Understand. And love.
We’re here. And we care.
“People experience different kinds of pain. There is death, failure, downfall and what not.
And then, there is love. No. Love is not really painful. It’s the best thing in the world. Probably, the only thing that really keeps us going. But, you know what’s really painful?
Being in love with someone who is abusive.
Exactly three years ago, I was in one such relationship. I met Zain (name changed), in my prep class. It wasn’t love at first sight. We met. We spoke. We became friends and eventually we fell in love. He then shifted to U.A.E. So ours, almost overnight became a long distance relationship. But, it didn’t really feel like it. We would FaceTime day and night. It was all rainbows, roses and sunshine. We were an ideal couple. People rooted for us. Facebook and Instagram would flood with our love for each other. It was a forever sort of thing.
Then, he got admission in India. I was so happy. Being here meant more time together, more seeing each other and most certainly better romance. But, as I would find out, it was far from that.
After a few months in college, his behaviour changed. He became overly possessive. Being a popular girl at school, I had a big social circle. This did not go down well with him and he asked me to stop hanging out with all my male friends. He asked me to stop talking to them. Soon after, he asked me to stop wearing clothes that showed any skin. And, more importantly, he asked me to stop hanging out with my male cousins because apparently I was too friendly with them.
I valued him. I did what he asked me to do.
I cut off ties with my male friends. I stopped hanging out with my cousins. Then, went the clothes that showed any skin. I did whatever I could to save what I had with him.
I was wrong.
With all this, he took control over my life. I stopped socializing. Even after this, he complained that I wasn’t giving him enough time. He said I wasn’t replying fast enough. I left everyone. I stopped going out. I lived my life according to him.
Then one day the unthinkable happened.
We were hanging out at a local cafe and he was checking my phone. He would do that every time he came to town. I didn’t even mind it anymore. Instead I ordered some cold coffee and some patisseries. I knew his financial condition so I never let him pay. When the order arrived I pushed the coffee towards him and caressed his hand.
“Who’s this guy? The one who commented on your photo?” he asked.
“That’s my classmate. It’s nothing really”, was my nervous reply.
“Oh really?” he yelled this time.
People started looking at us. I tried to calm him down. Instead he got up and emptied the cold coffee on my face. Everyone turned to us. I froze.
Quietly I wiped my face. He wouldn’t stop. He said, “You’re sleeping with him aren’t you? Is he fucking you better than me? I knew it. You whore. You’ll sleep with anyone just to get some likes on your Instagram and Facebook. Slut! You’re a slut.”
After his yelling got over, he left. I was alone in that cafe with a bunch of onlookers. I picked up my bag, paid and walked out of there with some cold coffee still in my hair.
So, I went home and I cried. Telling my parents would be of no use because they did not approve of him anyway. And leaving him wasn’t an option. I loved him too much to leave him. So I cried, till I finally fell asleep.
Next morning my phone was flooded with his miss calls and messages. He called me again and I picked up. He cried. He said sorry. He said he loved me. He said it will never happen again. But it did. A few days later he would call me names. This vicious cycle went on for a long time. Two years to be precise. I thought he’ll get better. I thought he’ll change. But, he didn’t. He would abuse me for little things. And lastly, he would blackmail me.
“You’re nothing without me.
You brought this upon yourself.
You don’t deserve me.
If you ever think about leaving me…
You’ll never get anyone as good as me.”
I was tired of hearing the same things again and again.
And then, one day I decided it was enough. What was the worst that could happen if I left him? Nothing could be as bad as this. But, leaving him was not easy. First, I told everything to my parents. They sought legal help.
After months of counselling, I was back to being a normal girl who had friends.
I never heard from him again. I wouldn’t say I don’t miss him. I do. But there is a difference between missing someone and wanting them back. It’s been a long time. But, the scars are still fresh. Not on my body, but my soul.
It was hard. I know I loved him. But, I loved myself more. Because if I won’t then who will?”
(A fellow blogger herself. Do check her out sometime.)