They say that broken glass can’t be mended. They are right.
I got married at a very early age – to the guy I loved, and my parents liked. He was everything that I had ever wanted. A perfect friend, someone who could make me smile, and who had vowed to keep me happy forever. He was everyone’s best friend, a kind mentor and a gem of a person. I was not surprised when I told myself that I have fallen in love with him.
No sooner were we married than what seemed to be a happily ever after story, turned into a mish mash of strange emotions, which I haven’t been able to make sense of till date.
It all started a few months after our much celebrated wedding. As far as I can remember, the issue was not worth such a big fuss. But he thought otherwise. And as it happens usually, he apologized later – with flowers and gifts. I couldn’t resist his charms. Not because of the presents, but because I was hopelessly and foolishly in love. May be, I still am. I just have become more resistant towards expressing feelings.
Unfortunately it wasn’t the last time he would hit me. With my increasing protests and our decreasing compatibility, things took a rather ugly turn with me deciding to leave him and going off to another city for work. Of course, it wasn’t looked upon kindly by him or his parents. But he promised to control his aggressive behavior and convinced me to come back. I believed his promises and assurances. The abuse did decrease in both frequency and intensity and I was happy that he had finally understood the importance of respect in marriage. During that tough phase, my friends were around and perhaps that gave me a lot of strength and patience to go on. Though I didn’t confide much in them, yet the mere thought that people who love you are around and support unconditionally is assuring enough. Another thing which I did was to confide in my in-laws. It was not to turn them against him or get sympathy. Rather it was because I loved them and knew that they cared for me too. And I wanted to keep them aware of my side of the story and not get carried away by his lies.
It has been years now and he hasn’t dared to hit me. But something within me has broken. The trust, respect and admiration I had for my husband is no more. I do love him and can’t think of staying away from him. But the past does cast its shadow at times and I find my spirit broken and confidence lost. But all is not bad. We are working on these issues and have come a long way from the turbulent times. But there are wounds to be healed and cracks to be repaired. I believe that the aftermath of abuse is as traumatic as the abuse itself. And like broken glass, the moments lost can’t be mended.