August 18.

I remember this day. He wrote to me that he would throw my poor mother to the garbage. For that was where she  belonged. He claimed my mother stole food. Of course, this hurt me to the core. He hurt me deeply that I was not going to ever forgive him for that. This woman went through hell to bring me up. To make me a woman I am today. She is kind, polite, strong, incredibly powerful woman who taught me to love everyone no matter who they are or where they come from. Of course, like any other relationship, my mother and I disagree about some issues, as she is coming to terms with modernity. Most of our lives were spent in rural area, being poor was no new news. 
Back to my husband, well, I couldn’t believe it had reached that point. He had always said inhumane things and I let him say those things. How am I different from him by not raising my voice? I sat down, I listen, I watched him tear every shred of love and affection I had for him.

He blamed me for being in his situation. He blamed me for not respecting him. He constantly reminded me that he was the provider and had been supporting us for all those years. He destroyed every respect I had for him. 

What more respect could I possibly have for a once beautiful soul, caring about others seeking to be self destructive and a victim? He yelled at me for not being there for him when he needed me most. Even when I was so far from him, I still was scared. Scared of his hurtful words. Of his abusive words. Once he was such a gentle soul. I still wonder what drastically changed.

He would say, life is not fair. I would say, “I know it isn’t. People will stab you in the backmeeting. People will fail on their promises. People will take advantage of you, for your goodness. What you do is get up and fight. Don’t give up, don’t repay evil with evil”. I told him that. I told him to fight, legally. I told him to save for future. To invest. He did not believe in that. He constantly loved throwing parties and wasting money. Only to hit him later, that there is really nothing to save, when he really should have.

He knew I was right. He hated that I was right. He despised it when I was the parent seeking best for both of us. He hated that I could know something that he did not. He hated my calmness. He despised my vision for the future. That I could somehow, be better than when we met. He constantly told me I would be nothing if he did not take me out of my village. 

Somehow, I still do care for him. Love? I don’t know. Maybe deep inside, I still do keep good memories. If I could for a glimpse, see that warm side of him, if I could go back five years ago, then maybe things would be different.

For now, I stay away, probably will stay alone for a while. I am not ready for another form of emotional abuse. I hope one day to meet someone that deserves my love. I will take slow but steady steps to heal. Heal my hurt, heal my soul. 

Yet, I worry for the other girl he is supposedly seeing. Well, the one who broke us up. She is under the same abusive cycle. She is taking it and will be charmed by his good charms, that he loves her. He will manipulate her into thinking he is, and will be, the only man in the world who can ever love her. He will adore her but also send her very evil messages. He will accuse her of incredibly false things. He has already done all these, while still loving me deeply. He made her cry, made her wish she did not deserve him. I wish she knew. I wanted to meet her, to tell her, to share with her. She was in love with him. She wants me out. She hates that he has me. She hates that I am the wife. I guess I would never really hate another persons wife or girlfriend, no matter how much in love I woukd be with the man. I cannot see myself hating. Even now, when I recall the hurtful words, I would never hate. Oh, and she also had enough and supposedly slapped him. I never raised my hand on him nor did he raise his hand on me. But his words, were hurtful as a sword.

I thought that maybe one day he will learn to work on his insecurities. That one day he will have the warrior spirit. That one day he will appreciate the love he receives. And one day, he will stop being the victim. 

Giving up is not a language I understand. But on my marriage, yes, I did give up. Maybe something made me realise I am something special, that I deserve better? Well, my eyes opened. I really do deserve better and so do all the other women all over the world! I won’t shut up. 


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