I have a purpose and want to live - Aftermath of depression and Domestic Violence
Concerning the aftermath of depression and domestic violence, I know how powerful words can be and I hope that my words touch the lives of others.
“When we speak, we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed.”
This is My Story…
We are everywhere. You might notice us walking down the street with our head bowed down, eye contact is out of the question. Because behind a smile if you look close enough, you’ll see our pain. Our job is to hide it.
We are lucky if we survived and to have finally left alive. What many don’t understand is that our plight has broken us. Our history shattered our sense of being, our trust is gone, we are afraid to love again, and nonetheless, we do not like ourselves.
It was unimaginable. I have never felt such pain and cruelty; it was torture. I am more of imperfection than I was before I met him.
I feel the need to write an obituary for the person who fought for more than fourteen years to keep her family together and lost herself along the way to the man who she thought would love her. She was a mom, a daughter, a sister who gave her life to a man who she foolishly thought, at the least, that he cared.
My dreams faintly faded away. I no longer visualized what life would be like if only I would have believed in myself. This life was not worth living.
Being a family was a short-lived illusion. I merely wanted my children to grow up having their father in their life. By the grace of God, there was a different side of him in front of his children, and he ended up showing a caring side to him. I know that for a moment that this is what my children wanted and needed, that is to be loved by him.
The house we once shared concealed the truth. Lies, manipulation, control, sadness, anger, and confusion nestled in the crevices of our broken home.
I need to say that women in abusive relationships have such a strong obligation to fulfill the requirements of this one person who has now become her children’s father. Yet, while this person can be kind, he can be intrusive, violent, vulgar, and unfaithful, tear you apart emotionally, or leave you for dead. Maybe just maybe they had a rough upbringing; they grew up without love. Love is what we need. Love is for what we long.
On a lucky day, I’ll see a glimpse of people strolling by. What you don’t see is that when loneliness prevails, I seek confinement in these bedroom walls. I only want to sleep. Please try to understand that I am emotionally drained. I endured years of pain. Pain is that unspoken word that we try to hide, and then it turns to fear, anger, conceivably even frustration. Our bodies are ours, and our mind is something that we seek. We then become prisoners of our own mind and just like that, our purpose of living turns into pleading with our insecurities and fighting with our anger, this is what depression feels like. Coldness paralyzes our body, our soul aches…we are at your mercy.
I’ve slowly salvaged my strength after a year of depression. It was then that I relived the past through flashbacks and nightmares. The pain I tried to numb for many years surfaced, it had slowly trickled from time to time until I finally became its prey. I felt alone. I was one of many people who try to move on and keeps striving, when in reality we end up taking our own lives, or this turns out to be our début for our highest calling.
I’m real, and I’m alive. I’m not ok all of the time and who should be? Because we get caught up living up to someone else’s standards, what a woman should be and how we should look. I am a woman, a mom, and a survivor. What’s your sway?
When an abusive partner repeatedly says that they will kill you, you begin to believe it. I thank God every day for letting me be here, for tomorrow is never promised. This scene is my life, and I have a call to live and not just exist. I need to be happy. There’s no time to feel remorse, but I can’t help but think if only I could have a clean slate. In acceptance there’s tolerance, in forgiveness there’s peace.
There are so many stories about battered women and those constant questions of why they didn’t leave? Instead, please ask, how can I help you?
Please help raise awareness against domestic violence.