letter to my husband (reblog) in memory of a friend who was a victim and could not find a way out. RIP


Letters to my husband

Letter to my husband

Dear husband

I saw you yesterday and I know you saw me too, but you just passed me as if you hadn’t. I shouted your name really loud but you just kept walking as if I wasn’t there. Was my voice not loud enough and did you not see my smile?

Even when I walked into the house too, you behaved still with scorn. The way you looked at me and smirked your face made me cry. I could not show you though the tears in my eyes because then you could see the defeat I felt that very moment. Instead when I went to the bathroom I just laid in there and I cried. I cry a million times but I just never show you.

I don’t know where it all went wrong that you treat me worse than my own fears. I gave you the beauty of my youth and I gave you all my essence of being a woman. I gave birth to our 3 beautiful children but all I have now is scars that will never fade away.

I went to the doctor yesterday too and when he asked me about the bruises all over my body I just said I was clumsy and fell down the stairs, one time too many. You know every time you raise your hand at me, you take away a piece of my soul. I think I am just an empty shell of a person without a soul considering the number of times you have hit on me and pushed me against the wall. I see the specks of my blood on the wall when I am going up the staircase and no matter how much I wash the walls even with bleach the spots just don’t fade at all.

This house which we bought to call a home is a prison for me. No matter how much heating I put on its still cold for me. I shiver every time I walk through the door even in summer when it is hot outside. My heart pounds really hard, this was meant to be a safe place for me and you know my history.

You know how when I was a young girl that man who was meant to be my guardian abused me and my mama just looked on. You know I was hooked onto drugs and thrown into soliciting just to survive. You know the streets were rough on me. The ghetto corrupted me. You know my life almost ended when I cut my wrists one time too many and I lost so much blood out there on the streets before they found me. You know too how hard it was to have a child because of the abortion I had after the rape when I was 12. My husband you came and you promised me it was all going to be fine.

I got off the streets into this amazing building which was meant to be my security place and here you are today worse than anything I had never imagined.

Please my husband just don’t hit me anymore or raise your hand at me. I am at the point of losing my mind and I am afraid I might lift these tiny worn out hands and take you out. Please I beg you don’t let my children grow without their parents, because I know I will snap one day.

I hope you will read this letter after your dinner and reply me in the morning.

Your wife

 

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About redflamefire

Published Writer, Blogger and Sunday School Teacher. Aspiring to have a bestseller under my belt and set up a charity that will empower generations to realise their dreams and potential. I advocate for no violence and abuse in marriages.
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11 Responses to letter to my husband (reblog) in memory of a friend who was a victim and could not find a way out. RIP

  1. OMG! So sad and heart wrenching!
    Celeste

  2. loopyloo305 says:

    Tears of sorrow, thank you for the posting, hard as it is, we need reminding of those who don’t find freedom!

  3. RealGOoDCup says:

    Very sad but true.I know too many women who suffer through thisand too many that have paid a high price because of this kind of abuse. That’s not love. I don’t care what anyone make say.

  4. RealGOoDCup says:

    Reblogged this on Real GOoD Cup and commented:
    I know too many women who have suffered in this manner.

  5. marvaseaton says:

    Really sad to know that there are women out there still suffering from this kind of treatment.

  6. Powerful. Other than that, I’m speechless

  7. I actually did 6 months interning at a Women’s Center for those who suffered from or were ready to escape a domestic abuse. I read your words and saw each of them in so many faces that passed through that place while I was there. I’ve never forgotten all those looks and stories and never will. Thanks for posting this again. I read it the first time and can tell you right now it hasn’t lost any of it’s original impact. So glad you got out in time. And so sorry for your friend who didn’t.

  8. Jan Deelstra says:

    It’s a matter of self-esteem.
    With over ten years as a social worker at the Department of Human Services, one might think I became numb to this sort of tragic story. I have not. But I write. And I wish I had known this woman and could have taken her out of her story and shown her that she could re-write the script. She could have consciously defined her role as ‘courageous survivor and role model,’ instead of as a worn-out victim.
    The very thing she did not want was to leave her children motherless. And it is the one thing she could have prevented.
    The tragedy is her addiction to the drama. The greater tragedy is that she was not strong enough to simply leave, with her children: She could have gone to a safe house and never looked back!
    Having ‘saved’ many women, and having witnessed how many return to the abuse, all I can do is continue to write and publish and counsel. Some leave, and use that experience to launch them into productive callings. Others take their own lives and leave the mess on the children.
    If you know ANYONE in this situation or something similar, PLEASE send them to http://JanDeelstra.com or http://www.EscapingTheChrysalis.com
    If one person is saved, it is worth your time.
    It’s a matter of self-esteem.

  9. Pingback: Self-Esteem Day 11: Victim Stories: Stop the MADNESS of ABUSE « Jan Deelstra

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