When a Woman Becomes a slave in her own house

I was in an emotionally abusive relationship. I was married to my husband for five years. When we first met he told me he fell in love with me at first sight and that he wanted to know as much about me as possible. He was five years older than me and I believed in him.

I was really attracted to him at first and we quickly became friends. He would pop by my office day in and day out. He was always there for me, helping me solve any problems if I could not solve them myself. He made me feel that life without him was impossible, and so I became very dependent on him.

The first few months of our relationship were very romantic. His family was wealthier than mine, and so he spoiled me rotten with all kinds of gifts, expensive ones for that matter. He took me out on dates to fancy restaurants and bought me clothes from elegant shops. I believed in him because he appeared to care so much about me.

After a short relationship, which was indeed perfect, I married my husband in a white wedding. The first six months were fine with a few warning signs of abuse. To name but a few these were: his temper, getting angry easily and quickly and using vulgar and impolite language. However, I did not pay much attention to those signs and ignored them. I did everything for him in order to make him happy and satisfied.

After six months, things got worse. I never did anything right in my husband’s eyes. He would lose his temper over things that I considered to be small, such as missing his call for a valid reason, or breaking a glass, or oversleeping. He complained about the food I cooked, the clothes I wore, my hair, my body, those kinds of things.

Please do not forget I was not from a wealthy family, so I had to help my family as well. The love of my life would insult me and my family about how poor we were. When we first met he had told me he loved me and had lied to me, telling me that he would support me and my family in whatever way possible.

I cried every day and felt depressed and crazy, throwing things around the house after he said annoying things to me. I would get angry and move out to my family or friends, sometimes feeling that I cannot take it any more. Once I had moved out, he would come crawling to me begging for my forgiveness. He would be in tears sometimes, oh my God, what an act! I loved the man, so I would buy his story and move back to our house. This happened a couple of times and my family and friends tried to tell me never to allow this man do this to me, but I did not listen.

The saddest and most hurtful moments of my life are the three miscarriages I had and I was told by doctors that they were caused by too much stress. I knew the doctors were telling the truth because I knew the situation in my house. However, I always thought things would change for the best, which really never happened. I was a slave in my own house but I think I was clouded by denial.

After five years I told myself that I could not take it any more. I moved out, for good. It was not easy. It took me tons of courage to do so. Thank God it is finally over and I have filed for divorce. I am getting over him now, even though I always regret my stupidity and blindness in wasting my valuable time by always going back to him when he begged for forgiveness. He kept repeating the same things over and over again but I failed to see that.

I believe with the support of my family and friends, I am really a survivor even though I now have problem believing in men, but I hope that too will pass.

This story is part of the “I” Stories series produced by the Gender Links encouraging the view that speaking out can set you free.

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