I Was an Abused Woman

Most women never think that they would ever be put in a situation where their significant other would abuse them. The words come out, “It’ll never happen to me!” Yet, when it does happen, to whom do we turn? I realized I had many people to turn to, but I chose not to go to them. My silence hurt more than being physically wounded. I denied it all until the day my best friend witnessed it. That was the day that the silence was broken. I am a human being, not an animal. I couldn’t take the abuse. I didn’t deserve it; no one does.

I can admit it, I was afraid. Days would pass and my heart and conscience would not allow me to face my reasons for being afraid. I didn’t understand how I could first hand witness my mother being abused and allow it to happen to me. All my life I said to myself, “I will never let any man place his hands on me! And if he did I would leave him in an instant!” But that’s easier said than done. The worst part about my situation was that my mother always suspected it. It was like she knew every time it happened. I would break down and cry to myself, but I would never talk about it. It all started with his being jealous. He started to be controlling, and I let him. I would say to myself, “I should’ve done this; I should’ve done that.” The first thing that I should’ve done was put my foot down when I saw things going bad.

Sometimes I asked myself, “Why would I let this happen to me?” I was scared and “in love.” Well at least I thought I was, because I didn’t know what love was. What I learned was that I let people control and influence my life too easily. I was too shy to say what is on my mind. I slowly became stronger, because I was less afraid to speak my mind. That was my problem. I was afraid to talk—afraid of what people might think. What if they didn’t believe me? I didn’t want people to think I was lying or just wanting attention.