DOES IT REALLY HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS?

anonymous

Eight o'clock in the morning, worn-out and sleepy, having worked a long, hard night in a nursing home for the elderly. I unlocked the front door of my house and was shocked; pictures and photos that had been hanging on the walls the previous evening now lay scattered on the floor. Cupboard doors and drawers lay open with their contents strewn about and chairs were turned upside down. My first thought was, we've been burgled! But no, surely my husband would have called me. Another thought; maybe something's wrong, perhaps he and the children have been harmed!  

Hurrying the stairs fearing the worst, a dark and threatening male figure brooded over me from the top. Instinctively I knew as I looked at his face, I had failed again, I had done something wrong or I had forgotten to do something, whatever, it would be my fault and I would pay the price!   The crime was misplacing the baby's dummy.  

The punishment, to begin with was a wrecked house, a torrent of verbal abuse, deprivation of yet another day's sleep and to really 'teach the bitch a lesson' perhaps a slap or a thump would be administered - whatever it took to get rid of his anger and aggression once again.

•      Now I'm too fat, too thin, ugly, thick, stupid, a bad mother, and a hopeless wife.

•     I feel sick but I'm not allowed to be or I'll spoil his fun.   I feel tired but I have to keep           awake or I'm a bore.

•      Oh no, I've voiced an opinion that doesn't agree with his. How foolish of me. I deserve      everything I get. This time it may be a few kicks, a bloody nose, a black eye,                         he might try and strangle me again or perhaps if I lucky the punishment will be less        threatening. Just depends on his mood.

I'm starting to struggle to hold down the two jobs I do to earn extra money after being criticized for not having a well-paid job like my sisters. I return home after working an evening shift and my keys won't go into the front or back door locks.   I'm shut out of my own home. What have I done to deserve this? I can't understand.  

This is a brief glimpse into a part of my life.

To the outside world we look like a perfect family. We go on holidays, have barbeques, birthday parties, picnics, all the usual family things. No one knows. No one suspects.   It's a well-hidden secret. Keep it within the family. Just keep on smiling and pretending I'm alright, smile and act as if I'm happy, smile and show how close a family we are, smile and keep up the charade .

But inside I'm dying, slowly having the very breath squeezed from me. Broke down in work the other day. I can't eat, have lost two stones in weight, gradually becoming incapable of performing the simplest tasks fearing the punishment for imperfection.

I can't hide it anymore.   It's taking over. It's getting out of control. The children are suffering. They have started to protect me. They are unhappy. They want to leave. He is losing restraint. The violence is escalating.   He used to cry and be sorry, promise it wouldn't happen again; he would say that he loved the children and me, we were all he had; that his life was nothing without us.   But now any remorse he once showed has long gone. My life is in grave danger. I love my children too much to leave them with him. We are frightened to stay but we're just as frightened to leave. But we must get away.

Some say it's just a matter of just walking out, leaving him, but it's not that simple. I've nowhere to go to with three children. I have no money. You see I tried once before and he promised to change and sought help .for a while, but it didn't last. Now he tells me I'm the one who needs help. He says I'm sick... Maybe he's right.

I'm a Christian but my husband isn't and I have always believed I had a religious duty to help him. I have always hoped that one day he would come to know true happiness in Jesus. That knowing Jesus would bring him peace and the violence would stop.   I have prayed, fasted, cried out to the Lord in desperation to save my husband, but it has made no difference.   I've always tried to be the best example of a Christian by showing love and forgiveness. I have continually yielded in submission and obedience, believing that this was my cross to bear, that Christ suffered for me and now I had to suffer for him. But I can't bear that cross any longer; it's getting too heavy!    I want to die. "If you're real God I need you to speak to me. I need to know you're here. I need you to help me".

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Then God spoke to me, but not in the way I had expected. He revealed my husband's abusive behaviour to a complete stranger, through a 'word of knowledge'. He showed me that this was not my cross to bear; that secrets are from Satan and that this abuse needed to be exposed for what it was; illegal, wrong, unacceptable and not to be tolerated.

We eventually escaped.   I realised I had to trust God in this, and God alone. He would comfort and guide and I would listen to him.   Not to church leaders or to well-meaning people who thought attending a seminar, or going to church or a prayer meeting would change my husband. Nor was I was to listen to my 'newly saved' estranged husband who appeared really sorry this time; he had 'repented' and had given his life to God. But now he was arguing that forgiveness means reconciliation, but he couldn't see that he was still abusing me by means of moral blackmail and manipulation - I'd had enough, it was over. I had forgiven him but I knew that God would never ask me to walk back into a loveless relationship.

These days I laugh more, and the children are happy. I look different and I feel better about myself - I'm free. Why is it that we have all moved on, except my ex-husband?

You can email the author; anon@faith4life.com or write to her at; Faith for Life, Enterprise House, Balloo Avenue, Bangor BT19 7QT