…Behind Closed Doors…

Have you been hit by  a man you loved and let it slide because well – he “love’s you”? I have

Have you told the man you love secrets about your life you have never told anyone only for him to bring them up when you err? – I have

Have you been so emotionally abused by a man seen as a saint by everyone that you know very well telling on him would lead to people doubting you? – I have

Have you woken up everyday asking yourself if you are worth anything and if at all you are then it must very little – I have.

Have you looked at yourself in the mirror and almost can’t recognize the person staring back at you? I have

Have you felt scared every time someone complimented you in front of your hubby? I have

I know someone out here can relate to one or two questions above. A lot of women go through lots of pain in the name of love. I can bet my life there is a woman TODAY who will not be able to hold on anymore and swallow twenty six too many pills “accidentally”.

Everyday lives behind closed doors are not what we see in these streets maybe their after effects. Most of the most sane looking women we know are bottling up so much.

• That woman lingering at the store staring too long at detergents might just be wondering what brand of bleach would be powerful enough to “take away” her pain.
• The lady at the queue – you know the one that seemed to allow everyone to check out despite being clearly good to go with her goods might just be buying time so that she doesn’t go home faster – where more beatings await her.
• That girl in the office who always seems to have walked into an open cupboard door, slipped in the bathroom, got stung by a bee in the eye might neither be having a string of bad luck nor is she clumsy as we would like to comfortably think.

We always want to believe the best in everyone especially if they come with a basket of charm to boot.

Most domestic abuses are done by people we would least expect. People we would like to be associated with and most of the time envy them.

Their victims; never stand a chance unless these abusers are caught in the act.

Let’s use my example; we were perfect.

My girlfriends thought I was the luckiest.

In him I saw a perfect father to our little girl.

Then little by little changes took place.

I ignored them

The first time he hit me, I was caught unawares. It all happened in a flash – I can barely remember anything, just the surprise of “what the hell just happened here?”.

He left the house and came back late at night, we made love like nothing had happened. Note that we didn’t discuss it at all. It’s like we had communicated silently.

After that came the emotional abuse. That must have been what drained me the most. I tried speaking up and putting a stop it, of course he would say “I’m sorry” or something close but he would be back at it after some days.

Some days we were fine, others it would be hell. I heard enough about my looks, how I associated with  people(read men), why I dressed in a certain way all in the negative light.

I cut myself off from ALL my friends – I  kid you not. I wanted to please him and was going to do that at the cost of my social life.

Emotional abuse – to me – is the worst form of abuse anyone can go through. You don’t have any proof to make people start “asking questions”. It’s all inside, you are reduced to a state of nothingness and if not helped can resort to harmful measures. People have gone bunkers after being told now and again and again and again that they are worthless. After some time you start believing what you are told and only see yourself through your abuser’s eyes. You become scared to speak out on any issue no matter how little.

I remember the day I decided to GO ON WITH LIFE.

We had had a bigger quarrel that had to involve our families to separate us. I remember seeing my mum and thinking I don’t ever want my little girl to be in this situation. I broke down – I had come to the end or so I thought.

I still remember his family telling me things like DO NOT BURN YOU BRIDGE – they couldn’t see any wrong on their son’s part. They had the nerve to tell me I will still want him back when things cool down.

They were right – in a sad way they were.

After packing my bags and settling back at my mum’s, I panicked. I had not though of what to do from that point. I had a little girl barely two years old and didn’t have any way to support myself. Sure my mum was going to take of us but I wanted to do my part too.

I remember calling my baby daddy one week afterwards and asking when he was coming for us. I reminded him how we had all agreed that I go to my mom’s till things calmed down. When in a panicked state of mind one week might as well be five months.

He casually told me he was thinking about it. An indirect way of saying, “I will come for you when I come, so don’t call me I will call you”.

Luckily I got me a casual job at a salon and since it was within the neighborhood I could go with my daughter. It was inconveniencing to my colleagues, clients and myself as well.

My daughter didn’t trust people, so I had to carry her every time she was awake which was a lot of time due to the nature of my workplace  she couldn’t get much sleep.

I basically did a eight to seven almost everyday. After closing, I would carry my tired sleeping baby and slowly walk home – which was fifteen minutes away. I was filled with thoughts of why me? Why this?. I lost a lot of weight within very few days.

With baby in my arms and safely “hidden” from prying eyes, those fifteen minutes walks became the only time I let the pain out. I could cry silently and let tears just roll freely. By the time I was home I had “let out” enough to get me through the next twenty four hours.

I remember this one time I let out a loud cry and startled some guy walking in front of me. I then pretended to have knocked my toe on a stone. He offered to have a look at it but I wouldn’t let him. In fact I am very sure I brushed him off rudely.

As I turned the last bend to my mum’s I would dry my eyes and explain my red eyes to being tired.

My family were amazed at how well I was handling everything. Never breaking down – I was a superwoman of sorts.

My crying subsided with time though the pain didn’t. It hang around in the air – taunting me. Daring me to let go.

Eleven months passed and he called me; HE HAD FINALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT and wanted to come for his family. Naturally I would have expected him to apologize but he didn’t. He just wanted his family – see how people can be so caring? tsk tsk – I know, I know.

I will not lie I was excited about it.  My mum – naturally – was only going to host “the in-laws”  if it was okay with me.

I remember them coming to my mum’s and acting like I had left three days earlier to prepare for this day. Everyone was going on about how the past should be left in the past. How mistakes happen and everyone being not perfect.

I had no problem with that, I understood all that.

My issue lay in the fact that agreeing to assume nothing had happened without even an official apology was like giving an okay to be hit me again if he ever felt like.

I decided at that point not to go back, but let the festivities go on.

I didn’t care how it would look. I didn’t care that people would be disappointed at me wasting their time. Others would be more concerned at how much money they had used in preparation. I was to leave with him on that day at the end of the celebrations.

I promised to go the following week. My excuse – I had to pack. That night I told my mum I was not going back to him. She didn’t argue with me, she didn’t ask why. All she wanted to know is if  am sure.

I was.

I had reconnected with a lot of my friends and my self esteem was back up again. So the thought of going back to someone who had almost two years to think things through  and couldn’t come up with an apology, maybe – just maybe two lines of explanations just to clear things up wasn’t adding up in my line of thinking.

I knew I wanted him to take care of our little girl but not me. I had decided to take care of me.

Everyday when things are tough at work I have to remember the alternative and  chose to tough it out.

It has been about four years and counting since then. Everyday I feel my strength crawling back.

I took me back and vowed to never let me go again.

It took me about eighteen months to try out a relationship and  noticed that it and others after that didn’t last two months or more. I had major trust issues. I couldn’t open up to people.

In crowds I am okay, alone I feel secure,  in a relationship I feel trapped, suffocated.

I recently got into a relationship with an amazing guy. My insecurity is still there. If he ever ups n leave I wont blame him but at least he gets me and knows I have a long way to go before I trust him and people in general completely.

He has helped me appreciate myself more. I can laugh at how my thighs wiggle when not in the safety of a pair of jeans. I don’t mind my pouch of a stomach anymore, He thinks that it is fantastic I didn’t try to get rid of my pregnancy after effects. He doesn’t freak out at the sight of the scar that was left by my cs operation – even if it means no bikini bathing suits for me. He thinks I argue out almost every point till I win – he lets me have my way anyway. Somebody say #winning.

This is not to say he doesn’t have flaws, he does but the fact that he doesn’t torture me about mine makes his almost non-existent .

His love has made me able to talk about things I had kept behind closed doors and pretended not to have the keys. Now I can open those doors and  let all the occupants out.

I talk about it with friends and they go something along the lines of, “REALLY?? YOU B?”.

I understand their disbelief. I for a long time learnt to keep it all under wraps.

But I have realized that I feel better after talking about it all, not for the sympathy looks I get but for being able to let out emotions.

At times talking about it makes me laugh, yet other times I can feel the teardrops linger at times even rolling down freely. Others its just a mixture of both. The same story – different emotions.

I don’t regret BURNING THAT BRIDGE, I am not curious to know what might have happened if I had not.

I will completely heal from it all one day. I am not rushing the process – I will not rush the process.

I REMEMBER ME – it doesn’t matter where I go, what I’m told, now you know I REMEMBER ME – Jennifer Hudson.

  – HIGH FIVE TO THE FUTURE.

Thanks for stopping by.

call me B….