When there is a calm outside her window: when the world is asleep she can’t sleep because her mind is in turmoil with emotions and ideas. She has had a load that has stagnated in the chest as if it has become her very blood. Like most women of her age she is a strong and independent woman who cannot be easily subdued. Yet in her, in secret, her inner lady seethed at bitter words ringing in her ears, some said some merely heard demands.
She was once young; she used to have dreams, aspirations, and an affinity to the world. But then life happened. Love
came its way; she fell in love believing that love would address all the
issues. He was a s.o.b, but very suave and flattering and he told her
everything she wanted to hear. Subsequently, love evolved into something she
never dreamed of until it shook her self-esteem. The entire time
though, she kept wondering, why?
The abuse was thus both physical and psychological. Along
with all the injuries on her body in the form of cuts, there was the unremarked
psychological damage she surely received during the blitz. It was in him
finding fault in ways so minuscule they were barely conscious that it made her doubt herself and her worth, intelligence, and existence among
other things. It was how he always diminished what she wanted to say and assert.
The opinion was not valid on anything she wanted to discuss, big or small. Actually, it was all those small remarks that she tried to make only to be told in a harsh
tone that an opinion of a woman is worthless for example – they got
progressively worse each time, until this woman almost did not know herself in
the mirror.
She tried to find justifications for this action in
her head, thinking to herself that maybe she is too sensitive, or that one had
to be more tolerant on this one. Indeed, each time he slapped her, it was
because he was angry or worked up or simply disappointed Such thoughts went
around in her head like a record; a sharp contrast to the cheerful disposition
she used to have.
Nevertheless, with time, the silence seemed too unbearable with the passing of the
year for her. The assumption that one simply did not exist – did not count –
was tormenting. To escape from friends and some relatives who had not come to
terms that she had failed to live the perfect life, she would drag herself
backwards. It made her think that she was a prisoner of hope turning to
disappointment where she clung on slender threads of improvement which were
clearly lost in the mists of time.
This, she learned over time, two kids down the line, was not love. Love is not
meant to cage her. Nevertheless, issues to do with leaving, beginning afresh
and raising the children on her own (although she single-handedly provided
for their needs throughout this period) continued to plague her. And so she
began tactically, with a conversation with her childhood friend and with
friends in the strangers. She spoke, at first shakily, but she spoke
nevertheless.
This was not easy, any attempt made towards developing a forward movement was
counterfeited by discouragement, and intimidation, tempting her to return to the
hell she had come from because hell was familiar to her. However, she
continued, and every time she got the strength to deny instead of being
silenced and to be assertive when she was ordered to “get lost” or “you should
die”.
Her silence had been her coping strategy and it had to be her identity. In an
effort to right this wrong, she learned that there’s a part of her she didn’t
know and that there was no need to scream to be heard, that she didn’t need
people’s stamp of approval, that even if her voice was stifled once it was
stronger than she knew.
They were the overpowering figures in her life, but
they would now meet a formidable challenge. They could threaten her all they
wanted, but she would stand firm. It would be either a troubled period of power
struggle followed by an amicable split or more outside the box, a clean break.
Now, Books–a privilege that had been denied to this
warrior girl when she was starting to find her way in the world–were her first
victory. She stayed up in darkness reading, as an apricot lamp glowed gently,
breaking apart that sliver of anguish. With each turn of the page, she discovered new
worlds, understanding philosophies, cultures and scientific wonders that lit a
fire in her eyes. It transformed the young earl into a ravening beast of
knowledge, the thirst that could not be sated.
Now she lies awake at night with a sense of peace
knowing and finding her strength in her silence, knowing that she doesn’t need
to scream now. Her metamorphosis from a silenced figure
to a confident woman undoubtedly reshaped her interpersonal connections.
Years
later, she finds herself addressing a group, her voice steady and confident. A
stark contrast to the woman who once trembled at the mere thought of speaking
up. As she shares her story, she notices women, whose eyes mirrored the fear
she once knew. In that moment, she saw a reflection of herself and a purpose
solidified. Her journey, once a personal odyssey, became a mission to empower
others.
Author Bio
Shruti is a passionate language and personality development trainer who is an ardent advocate for women's empowerment through education. Through her blogs, Shruti shares powerful stories and anecdotes that address the challenges women face, combining her love for language with a mission to empower women through the written words.
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