This is a new segment on my blog and we are so grateful that Mrs T.O has decided to share her story with us from time to time and I would be glad if you too can share your story with bride2mom by sending a mail to bride2mom@gmail.com so we can give domestic violence a voice. I saw that look again, the look in her eyes, it seemed like one I have become so familiar with and I wondered when this will ever stop, how long is long enough for her to take it as I sat there thinking his voice jolt me back to reality… You are an idiot. Big fool, nonsense, senseless thing… In all fairness, he was a good man but his mouth was his only poison, he can almost do anything for his family, my mother inclusive but when he gets angry or do I say his dose of madness then his inner beast is released… He kept on rendering abuses to her and I just sat there surprised that this is still going on but this time, unlike the time when I was a kid, when I would go to my room and cry my eyes out, this time was different, I knew I had to stand up to him but wasn’t sure I had the courage.
I felt this inner heat and loss of breathe, like if I did not talk to him immediately, I would pass out and before I could analyze what I had to say to him as analyzing is all we do before we tell dad how we feel, so he won’t get hurt…( yes, he easily gets hurt) I just said “how long? How long will this keep going on?” I was to show a bold face but I found myself trying not to look him in the eyes because I would feel pity for him… Growing up we always knew that my dad hated to hurt us or my mum but he does anyway and when he does it, he would feel so guilty and those periods we would be scared that he can harm himself, when he comes out of it, he would buy us gifts, take us out and apologise…. As I continued to look down, I tried to be strong but the tears gave way and I said (voice trembling) she is an adult, the time has come when she should be treated like one, whatever decisions she makes is her business not yours” I kept on trying to say more but all I could hear myself saying was ” every time, every time, can’t things change around here” I grew up in an abusive home.
Mrs T. O
