Do I write with anger? Or do I write with joy?
I say anger because I allowed him hurt me so bad, and for so many years.
I say joy because I finally had the guts to stand up to him and walk away.
I guess I will write with a mixture of both.
I’ll tell you what will happen after you are done reading this piece, if you are a woman, you will shed a tear, and hate men for about 15mins, slowly the hate will turn to relief, relief in the sense that you are not going through what you just read about, and relief will now give way to gratitude, gratitude to the present man in your life for being so sweet and kind and never laying a finger on you, and that’s where the problem lies, why should you be grateful to anyone for not abusing you, when they don’t have the right to abuse you in the first place.
I come from a very wonderful family, I was never abused, I was never molested, I was never made to feel useless in anyway, My ex-husband had a relatively wonderful family, so can someone tell me why he did all the things he did to me?
I’ll answer that question, he did all those things because he could, and every time he did it, I was grateful it wasn’t worse, and I found ways of justifying it, I would say to myself “maybe I shouldn’t have spoken back the way I did” or “I should have micro waved it a bit” or why did I mix 2 different shades of black in the washing machine”.
No matter how flimsy or stupid the excuses where, I always consoled myself in them, at some point I felt he’d just hit me to see how hard a blow he could throw, I would take the beatings, I would take the insults and I would take the rape, yes the rape, and I would be grateful it wasn’t worse than it was. At some point I wore so much make up, it was hard to tell where the makeup stopped and my face started, I would spend so much time making up my face, because it was literarily blue and black.
I am very sure you have heard these stories before, he beat me, he yelled at me, he raped me etc, well he did all those things, but the twist here was that my ex was sick, he beat me so he could get turned on, yes you read it right, my pain was his aphrodisiac, with every blow, you could see him develop an erection, and on days he drew blood, it was like a pay rise for him.
I went through this for 6 years and 2 children, it hurt while I was conceiving my children, and it hurt while I was giving birth to them.
I was his wife and he used me to achieve his sick sexual desires, he would pick on the smallest things just so he could get angry, beat me up and rape me, yes I call it rape because I was never a willing participant, he would hog tie me, and violate me, he forced me to have anal sex, and till this day I have rectal trauma.
One day I just had enough, while he was flying into one of his fits, I picked up a knife and while he was trying to hit me, I swung the knife and slashed his wrist, he stopped in horror, I dropped the knife, went upstairs, picked up my kids, packed a small bag, and walked back into the kitchen, I looked him dead in the eye and told him I was leaving and he should not dare try to stop me, I went home to my mother and told her everything, she immediately called a lawyer and I filed for divorce, he didn’t argue or object, and he never fought for custody of the kids, I guess he was too stunned by my reaction that night, which goes to show how true this African proverb goes “if you keep pushing a goat to the wall, some day it will bite you”.
Well this is my short story, I took all his guff for so long, and one day I realized I was better off without this, so I walked away.
I walked away.
Interview By Arome Ameh (The Priest)