Story of Domestic Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Religion, Self-Hatred, and hope of healing (TW)20 years ago, I was a strong and independent 17-year-old. Insecure, but I never allowed anyone to dictate my identity or compromise my values. At 22, I married a man whom I believed loved me for who I was. However, as time passed, I began to change, losing myself in an attempt to meet his expectations. I constantly felt inadequate, whether it was about my appearance, faith, or intimacy. I tried everything to be desirable, to feel loved and accepted. For years, I masked my true self behind jokes, obsessive workouts, and conforming to my husband's preferences, even if it made me uncomfortable. I underwent surgery after breastfeeding my children, hoping to meet his standards, but it still wasn't enough. I faced various distressing experiences behind closed doors that left me silently crying in the bathroom. There was exposure to pornography, the introduction of explicit materials and activities I refused to engage in despite his persistence, which only intensified my feelings of inadequacy. I questioned why I wasn't good enough or simply enough. Eleven years of marriage passed, and I became a mere shell of my former self, pretending every day. I resented myself for not being what my husband desired, as he turned to videos during our intimate moments to find excitement. Meanwhile, we portrayed the perfect couple to friends, family, and on social media. However, I later discovered that he had shown private and nude photos of me to business associates, further reinforcing the idea that I was just an object to him. I felt like a receptacle, devoid of value. Unbeknownst to me, my own home was filled with hidden cameras, monitoring my every move for over a year before I became aware. Then, someone came into my life who saw through the facade, who saw the person I had lost sight of, even though I couldn't see her myself. Over the course of a year, this person became my safe haven, my home, my best friend. I resigned myself to spending the rest of my life in a publicly perfect marriage while secretly loving someone else because I never believed in giving up or breaking promises. But eventually, I did break those promises, and it shattered a significant part of me. However, it also liberated the person I had lost. For a few years after the devastating collapse of my marriage, I was broken, filled with self-hatred, and utterly lost. Not only was I not enough for my husband, but my friends and even my own family thought the worst of me. Sitting in my pastor's office after my husband requested an emergency meeting, I felt their pity and condemnation. No one bothered to ask if my husband had any wrongdoing in this situation. I was solely labeled as the sinner. In my darkest moments, contemplating suicide seemed like the only solution, as I believed my children deserved better. I felt utterly alone. Most of my closest friends, who knew nothing of what I had endured, abandoned me, except for a handful who saw through the facade and recognized the mistreatment before I could acknowledge it myself. But then, I found strength in the women who became my friends, helping me rebuild a foundation of the person I once was, even though they didn't know the pre-marriage version of me. I wasn't the villain everyone made me out to be. I began to understand that while my survival tactics were flawed, it wasn't entirely my fault. Even if no one ever knew the extent of my ex-husband's actions, I wasn't the antagonist in my own story. I was simply doing my best and stumbled along the way. The person who caught me, who encouraged me to rediscover myself before we could pursue a relationship, stood unwaveringly by my side. Over months and years, he never made me feel inadequate for needing time to heal, just as he healed his own wounds. My faith in Jesus's love reminded me that we are all sinners. And although I may still face judgment for my actions from those who are unaware of the full story, it's okay. Grace saved me. Love saved me. I transformed from a broken, abused (yes, abused) woman, mother, friend, daughter, and sister. My ex-husband isn't a bad person; he was lost and insecure, battling his own medical issues and demons. I hope that someday he can recognize the pain he caused and find it in his heart to forgive me for not standing up and revealing the truth before it was too late, before I hurt him. As much as I am grateful for escaping that relationship, for becoming a better mother to my children, for rediscovering myself, I still regret compromising my values. Nevertheless, I learned that sometimes hitting rock bottom allows us to start anew. I am no longer the picture-perfect wife I projected on social media or to my friends. I am real, flawed, and human. But I am loved and forgiven regardless of what others may believe. To my ex-husband, who wishes for punishment that fits my perceived crime, I wish you peace and the ability to be your true self, free from pretenses and the fear of societal judgment. Because ultimately, all of us deserve the freedom to be the person God created us to be.
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