I choked as the pillow pressed lower. I struggled to breathe as I twitched and begged for air. My murder was underway. Did a stranger break into my house? No. Was it someone I knew? Yes, it was my husband. Perhaps sometimes the monster is not under the bed but the one sleeping next to us.
I was married to a raging lunatic husband who saw no harm in beating up his wife as he returned home drunk and reeking of alcohol. My worst mistake was entering a marriage with a family that supported their son’s misdeeds and evils while their twenty-year-old daughter-in-law sought their help and relief. With my near-death incident, I filed a suit against him, and we finally divorced in 2006. Meanwhile, I gave birth to a baby boy who was only three years old during our divorce.
While I thought my past was behind me, little did I know that this was only the beginning of my struggle. My ex-husband unexpectedly knocked on my door a few years after our divorce. He begged me to take him back and asserted his desire to be a good spouse and a responsible father.
In a rage, I threw a fit and told my father I would rather kill myself than marry him again.Soon after, my father experienced a paralytic attack, and the guilt that I was to blame for it began to take over. My friends had convinced me that my son would need financial support, and for his sake, I agreed to marry the monster.
It has been two months since our remarriage, when my husband unveiled his true colours again, and this time, things worsened to the extent that I attempted suicide. I felt worn out between struggling in the ICU and learning I was pregnant. While my husband accused me of infidelity and my older child began to replicate the ways of his father, my struggles increased.
It reached a saturation point. I left the house with my second child in my arms. I discovered I had to create a life for myself and him because my husband would not take on any parental responsibilities for our second child. To my dismay, my spouse married a different woman while we were still married. He cheated, he was abused, and his family saw everything but turned a blind eye.
I stopped passively responding to the circumstances and decided to break free from this menace. I focused more on my job as a film producer and began making money for myself and my child. As my first child blocked me out of his life and refused to call me his mother, I began developing a bond with my younger one, Sasmith.
I broke my cycle of abuse, but I believe many other women still put up with it for the benefit of their kids. But as I have learned from experience, you cannot care for your kids unless you feel secure. We, as women, are not Barbies to be smacked, dolled up, and thrown away.
Remember, dominating men never lose control; instead, they lash out in an effort to regain it.