Yet I Lived Another Day

I remember everything that happened after that sting of the slap.

It rained heavily that night. I remember that distinctly. It was dark like charcoal burning up the skies. Standing on the ice-cold marble floor I could feel the sweat pouring through my hair, wondering how I got here.

As I looked into his eyes, I saw something I had never seen before, a hint of a smile. That one moment turned everything that I had built over so many years into ashes. We stood facing each other for the longest time with burning eyes until he backed off. I don’t remember exactly what I said or did, but I walked out of the house and closed the door behind me. Its only when I got wet did I realise I was wearing a thin kaftan and no shoes. As the rain poured over my head, I kept walking until I reached my sister’s house few blocks away. When she opened the door, she didn’t ask me a single question. She just took me to the bathroom, got me changed and then hugged me. No words were needed.

And then the circus began. The police complaint. The pressure. The midnight phone calls. The harassment. The threats. The emotional blackmail. It was a never-ending barrage of garbage that spilled from all corners trying to bury my soul.

I struggled with guilt. I felt isolated. I had dark thoughts about blood flowing through my veins and then spilling onto the floor.  I used to wonder how my body would feel once I would lose consciousness as I would sink into the deep end of the ocean. I dreamed about vanishing without a trace.

But I didn’t go back.

He was a formidable opponent with multiple Swiss bank accounts and political connections. I was a middle-class girl who had worked and lived alone since I was 18. He was looking to own. I was looking to grow. We were doomed from the start. 6 years of long-distance relationship and 11 months of marriage crumbled that night.

Of course, there had been signs. But one tends to see what one wants to see. His words always left wounds and scars. His family ensured I remained disconnected from my support system. They wanted to mould me into something that could easily be displayed when decorated with diamonds. I was no longer myself. I remember this one time I was sitting in a newly acquired Mercedes with tears in my eyes and looking at beggars on the street thinking how lucky they were to be free. When you don’t own your life, you perish.

Somewhere along the way, the line between the verbal and physical abuse started to blur. By the time I understood what had happened, years had passed, while my hands and heart remained empty.

I had quit everything that I had built to marry the prince who turned out to be a frog. My father had just passed away. My sister’s marriage and mental health were falling apart. My mom was coming to terms with this new reality, and I was too broke to worry about the future.

Yet I lived another day. How I don’t know, but I survived.

Eventually I got my freedom at a price. I had to let go of everything that I ever owned, not claim alimony, let go of my savings and walk away. It taught me a very important life lesson; Freedom is expensive but so worth it.

We both went our separate ways. My life trajectory went spiralling downwards until I hit rock bottom. Took me ten years to slowly rebuild everything one brick at a time. I eventually found the love of my life who did not drive a Mercedes or had a big bank balance. But he turned me into the woman that I am today. He taught me to trust again. He gave me wings to fly and introduced me to cats!

I hear my ex also got married and has a child.
We both moved on.

But when it’s pouring heavily and the sky is dark and I am alone, I wonder sometimes what my life would have been had I stayed. What if there was a door but there was no exit.

I shake my head.
Let that thought go.
Hug my cats.
And suddenly I am fine again.

#writewithosdotme