05 Oct Domestic Violence does not leave you the same

Never say never. How true this is! You never think something can happen to you until it does. Never in my wildest dream did I think I would be part of the domestic violence statistic. How? Why? But it happened. I was beaten with a walking stick as a 30-year-old married woman. Not with my husband but my late father-in-law. What level of domestic violence is that? When asked why by my husband during the numerous times he had tried to previously hit me, he said he was “teaching me manners.” Yeah, all the years spent with my parents and grandparents did not bear any manners and so he had a higher sway to ‘show me the right way’ with violence and abuse as an adult. I wonder how that worked out on his part, on my side, it only intensified the loathe.

Yes, it was not a secret, I loathed the man. I struggled to respect him as my husband’s father and as an elder. How do you as a person respect and love someone who goes out of his way to demean and attack you at every opportunity he gets? How are you supposed to lovingly cook for such a person because “it is your responsibility”? My primary love language is acts of service, it killed me every time I had to cook because he had to be served from my kitchen. I grew to hate cooking for my family because of him. Yet his children continually demanded that I had to because I was the last born’s wife and culturally, that is my duty. How do you force a person to care for someone they hate yet no blood relation binds them? Do people realize that is how some people get poisoned? Because that thought did cross my mind.

I have used the term loathe and hate, what I felt for him was much stronger than that. My stay in that homestead left me with accumulated trauma and PTSD. I cleaned out mine and my children’s trace and left. I told my husband and my family that we will not get back there, whether alive or dead. We are not to be buried there either. I know for a fact I will not rest in peace. So, no, my daughters and I will not go back. Matters inheritance, my daughter(s) can be given in monetary value placed in a trust if they wish, but not given a piece or any piece of that land. We got out, we will stay out. As for my girls’ relatives, they rejected them, 2 years now without any contact regarding their well-being. My babies are probably better off without any contact from them as is. God is the ultimate provider and will provide another family who will accept and love them. Who said family is only by and through blood ties?

If only wishes were horses, beggars would surely ride on them. I wish when one walked away from dysfunction one didn’t have to carry the stamp with them. These experiences sadly get branded on our being, our soul, and our heart and mind. I struggle a lot with the feeling of being unsafe, of always watching my back to see if someone is progressing towards me. I do not sit in a public space with my back against a door, window, or opening. I watch for exits whenever I walk into a room. I size people up and always stay vigilant. I do not drop my guard in keeping an eye on my daughters’ whereabouts. I am never at full ease. I compulsively had to lock my house doors as my father-in-law would walk into my house and cause a scene if any door was ajar. I consistently shut my windows because he once removed my kitchen knife from the utensil rack and nearly stabbed his step son with it.

I was dealing with my husband’s alcohol addiction and the aftermath of its destruction while also dealing with my late father-in-law’s shenanigans. YET! It was said that I was the problem. That I provoked them to act the way they did. That the blame was fully on my door. That I pushed my husband to relapse and spend his time and family provision in a bar. That I deserved the beating because I clearly provoked my late father-in-law by delaying his lunch.  I did all that. My. How powerful I was! Enough to manipulate two grown men to act in a way that negatively affected me and still kept at it. How powerful and how stupid of me. Why wasn’t I learning these lessons I was supposed to?  Why did I intentionally cause myself that much pain and heartache? Why, pray tell, did I continually cause them to reign havoc on my mental health?  Why did I push them till I had to ‘forcefully’ leave my ‘lair’? Why?! So much bull excrement.

I remember the first time someone banged on my door in my new place after leaving my matrimonial home. I couldn’t get out of bed to go and see who it was. I was rooted in place, palms sweating, my heartbeat palpitating to a deafening crescendo. I was scared stiff. It was just the girls and I in the house. That was when I knew I was marked, I was never going to be the same. I now have triggers. It took over a year for me to be comfortable leaving my front door or my kitchen window open. I still locked the metal flap from outside with a padlock during that period. Day and night. Raised voices or fights send me to a dark space. I can’t stand it. I don’t trust people, I am especially wary of men. This is partly why I have not dated nor been in another committed relationship. It has been safer and more peaceful being on my own.

As a woman, if you have a partner who respects you, upholds his fidelity to you, provides for you, loves you, and protects you from all harm including his family, I thank God with you. I pray for that. I pray my daughters and every girl/woman get that as well. On the other side, it has definitely been more thorn than rose.