My marital status does not define me! I welcome judgement for the decision that I made to leave a toxic marriage, what I dont appreciate is pity. In a conversation with my mum I made mention of not regretting the time that I dedicated to the marriage and though she agreed she said something to the effect of it being too many years to have suffered alone making the healing process that much harder. I dont think anybody that has never been in that situation can ever fully grasp what goes on in the mind of an abused individual and yes I missed throw back Thursday but in light of a conversation today I want to share a piece that I had written previously. Abuse A tribute to the all the ladies who have ever been abused. (Written from the perspective of an abused Muslim woman) The alarm buzzes, quickly I stretch my arm out to silence it. I slowly leave the bed so as to avoid disturbing the sleep of the man lying beside me. My husband, my security, my everything. I look at him and flashbacks of the night before make me cringe. I enter the bathroom to make ghusl and cleanse myself. As I leave the bathroom, the melodious sound of the Fajr Azaan can be heard in the distance. I perform my salaah and with tears in my eyes I beg my creator, Oh Allah hear the plea of this humble servant. Please let today be different from yesterday. With that, I paint on the smile that everyone is accustomed to. With nothing but love I prepare breakfast and pack a lunchbox for my husband. Petrified of his reaction, I whisper his name and urge him to wake up. He starts his day the same as every other, failing to perform his first salaah, pretending as though last night never happened. He attempts to charm me with sweet words of affection, words that I’ve come to detest. “Never show your oppressor your tears” a phrase that I would never forget, words that have stuck with me through the years. I wait patiently for him to leave so that I may feel my feelings and cry to my heart’s content. I spend the day playing, replaying over and over the events that unfolded the night before, looking, searching, yearning for answers. What had I done that made him angry this time? Was the house not clean enough? No that can’t be it, the house was spik and span. Had I cooked something that he did not like? No, I took time to prepare a meal that I knew he would enjoy. Was I dressed in a manner that he did not appreciate? No, I know that he loved how I looked in that dress. But, I did something wrong, something to cause his displeasure, why else would he have he have done what did? At this thought my hand unconsciously passes over my lip, busted yet again. Ashamed of myself for not being the wife he wanted, the wife he deserved. Today will be different I tell myself, today I will put my best foot forward and make my husband happy, happy to come home to me, happy to be mine. I will make him proud to have me as his wife. It is fleeting moment of hope, when in reality I know that today will be no different to yesterday, for yesterday was no different to the day before. This is my story, the reality of the life that I had lived for many years. As an abused woman I felt less than human. I hid my pain and walked around with a painted smile covering, pretending masking the inner turmoil that I was going through. I had had enough and walked away from this abusive relationship. Today I am a young vibrant single mother who has made a concerted effort to never again be put down by anyone. I hope that my story gives hope to ladies that find themselves in the same or similar situation. Love yourself enough to leave, for you will be better off alone than staying with someone who cannot see and appreciate your worth.
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 14:13:31 +0000
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