Inevitable

My mum showed up at work today.

I knew it was going to happen… I knew what i had to do and I didnt blink for a second when I asked her to leave. 

I didnt blink when I saw her face change when she realised that she was never getting me back. 

I didnt blink when I opened the door for her to leave.

I didnt blink when I walked back to my desk.

And I knew it was going to happen…I knew i would question everything that happened (again) when I sat back at my desk.

Enough now.

No more…. never again. History will never repeat itself. Not now. Not ever.

Mind Games

In my opinion and personal experience, mind games are the worst kind of abuse to be inflicted on someone. It doesn’t show scars so no one can see the pain and words can be said in a way that can be twisted so the abuser can get away with the abuse.

There was an argument that happened yesterday between my parents and my husband and I. My parents want one of two things
1. For us to leave
2. More money

I am not sure which one it is but they did say (without me saying anything) “I haven’t asked you for more money” and when asked if they wanted us to leave they said “i cannot answer that question”

I’ll leave it to you to interpret that however you want.

Deniability if they get caught abusing me is what they wanted and that is what they will get.

The worst part about all of this, and the part that I cannot get over, is the fact that these are my parents.

My parents.

It’s quite heart breaking because I don’t know how to live without my parents.

I am almost 30 and I still long for my mothers hugs. The last time I got one, I was less than 10 years old. More than 20 years later and I am still hoping for that hug.

But in reality, all I will get is mind games.

One day when I die, I am planning to share this blog with my family. But I know that even then they would never admit that they did something wrong along the way, they will only blame it on me and say I’ve had a mental illness.

Deniability. That’s all my abusers ever want.

The whole truth and nothing but the truth

I have been trying to write the third part of my story for a long time now but the truth is I am not the type to sit down, think about it and then put it into words. Good or bad, emotions drive me so that’s exactly what I am going to do. Just let the emotions write the last part of my story.

The whole reason I started this blog is because I needed someone to hear my story and validate it, to say … “man oh man that’s tough!” Yea I know how it sounds like… like I was just looking for attention? But I was… I AM! And this is why…
Part 1 here
Part 2 here

A few months after my wedding, things in my parents house was getting unbearable. There was an argument that broke out between my parents and I and this was the first one we had had since my sister left the house. So it was BIG. In my moment of anger I asked my mum If she remembered the day I told her about my uncle. Mind you, we don’t talk about anything taboo in my family and in my question to her, I never specified which uncle or what day.

Mum says “Yea, I do. You were around 6. You were wearing your light pink dress, you were standing in the lounge and I was sitting in the dining room with your grandmother… you told me he touched you”

Continue reading The whole truth and nothing but the truth

Arranged Marriages

He saw a picture of me, saw my long black hair and my big pouty lips and my smile and probably said “Yes, that would make cute kids” or “Yes, I can see myself having sex with that” or “Yea she’s cute, she’ll do”

And then the wedding was done and gone, the marriage started and the baggage that came along with (what he thought to be a) cute face became more transparent…. and he couldn’t handle it.

He couldn’t handle the abused, bruised, stubborn, depressed girl and he regrets everything.

This is the truth.

 

Nothing

You know those movies that have this mother figure, that was never there for the kids. When she was there she was great but she was battling something else. So she runs away. One kid ends up hating the mother and the other kids ends up searching for the mother, only to be disappointed in the end.

I feel like I’m that mother.

I am trying so hard to be there for my kids. But it is becoming clear, more and more each day, that I am not right for them.

I think I have been using band aids all my life to try and fix what was broken. Honestly, I think my kids were a type of band aid for me to try and fix a broken marriage. I think they were that love that I had been craving all my life (Indian arranged marriage cliche anyone?) But kids only mimic what you do, and it’s kind of hard to keep up an appearance of love when you are not getting it yourself.

I keep thinking, if I run away, they are still too young, they will learn to live with it. It’s harder to watch them get hurt every time I have an episode, but then I think.. What if I want to come back someday… what happens then?

To be honest, I don’t know if what I am feeling is depression. I have never been officially diagnosed. I am too scared to be officially diagnosed, because if I do, then it’s just another excuse for family around me to tell me how insignificant I am.

I cannot, I CANNOT, see anything happy around me. Nothing. Not even my kids.I only see fake, made up happiness around me that was done to mask whatever bad deed that was done before. I don’t see love around me, I only see selfish people using the name of love to get what they want from others. I definitely don’t see peace, I don’t think any of us do. All I see is ignorance.

I have been here before, the last time, it took me months to ignore these thoughts and move on to whatever hope I had left. The last time this happened, I had a baby to mask the thoughts of death.

This time around, I have kids, who are hurt because of me and I am running out of time. I don’t have months to fix myself, Months means the kids would be hurting for all of those months. I cannot mask it either, because it is just going to come back stronger than it is now.

But I have no support to help me either. 

I don’t think I am going to make it this time. 

Daily Update

My dad sent me an email yesterday about how upset he was that I hadn’t wished him for his birthday. He said he’d rather die than live like this.

I was going to reply back to him and tell him If you felt that way just because someone hadn’t wished you. … can you imagine how one might feel for being called a liar for talking about their abuse. Should I kill myself then?

I didn’t. Not because I am the bigger person,  but because it will only fall on deaf ears.  They all only think about themselves.  So I simply hit delete. 

This decision is going to haunt me for awhile but I think I made the right choice.

The Whole truth and nothing but the truth (pt2)

I can’t talk about our first night. Because at no ones fault…   it was incredibly horrifying for me. My depression was the only thing to blame. To this day my husband has no idea about this. It will break him if he finds out. I cried myself to sleep that night. But I picked myself up again and I woke up the next day as if it was all okay.

A couple of days later I was at my in-law’s town. I would be meeting every single member of my husbands family here. Walking into my their house, felt like walking into one of those old ads that they show on TV. The mum with the apron in the kitchen making delicious food. Everyone smiling and laughing, the whole family together, joking around.

I wanted this life. I wanted the atmosphere,  I wanted the peace, I wanted to smile and I was in it and I loved it. My father in law would call me his daughter and my mother in law would tell me everyday how much she always wanted a daughter. She would take me out around her area and show me off. I never had to cook, i never had to clean. I was a princess.

Continue reading The Whole truth and nothing but the truth (pt2)

Daily update #3

It’s been a week since I walked away from my husband… and then decided to give it ONE MORE TRY.

Because that’s me…. try, try, try again!

I had to come into work this morning as I had realised I had forgotten to do something.

And my husband’s facebook status is “why is a booty call called a booty call?”

Yes, that’s how he talks to me – through facebook statuses that I have to decipher. So when I ask him about it, he denies it’s about me. This mental game…. I tell you!

Right now I fell like someone’s pierced a knife through my heart and left it there. My stomach just dropped when I read it.

Is that what he thinks of me?