narrative essay about abuse

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I Was Abused As A Child — Now I'm Writing My Own Story

It took me over 10 years to make these stories, MY stories, public. Image: Thinkstock.

[Content warnings: domestic abuse, child abuse and neglect, substance abuse, cutting]

Even today, years since I got out of my dangerous childhood home, I yearn for a freedom I may never truly have.

I am a writer. I write fiction often and have been dabbling in writing non-fiction. The real stuff. My real stuff.

And since I started publishing my story in essays, I’ve been frequently asked, “How can you just put that out there?” and “Are you worried about what your family will say?”

The oft-quoted mantra You’re never the only one on the Internet seems common and understood now. However, growing up in the pre-Internet age, it felt as if I was the only one living with an abusive, alcoholic father. The only one whose mother chose to remain curled into herself instead of protecting her child. The only one who flicked a bathroom light on and waited for the cockroaches to scatter before entering the room.

In those days, no one could hide behind an avatar or a screen.

If they were going to share their personal trauma, it was most likely going to be in person (or perhaps in a book or print magazine). Sharing like that can be scary and too real, so many people just didn’t do it.

Maybe the unknown was scarier than the known, but I mostly think my silence was due to shame.

My mother was and continues to be an incredibly generous person with a good heart. But under the thumb of my abusive father, she was relegated to futility, and essentially acted as an enabler. Drunk on many glasses of vodka, my father’s oh-Freddy-and-his-temper turned evil.

Vile abuse filled my days. I was neglected. I was barely washed, living with lice for what felt like years on end. Trips to the dentist were erratic. I recall going once as a child, and then had to insist I go when I was 17, having only then learned it was expected of parents to take care of their kids’ dental health. We lived in filth: cockroaches, dirty dishes, dirty mouths.

We also lived in silence.

My father’s weapon collection was used as a threat. Guns — often loaded — were pointed: sometimes at my head, sometimes at his own. More than once, I begged him to pull the trigger. On one occasion, a butcher knife was launched at me, just missing my toes.

The police and Child Protective Services were frequent visitors, though none of us ever admitted to anything. Maybe the unknown was scarier than the known, but I mostly think my silence was due to shame. I lived in shame and took the responsibility on my own shoulders.

So the answer is yes, I do worry. But, here’s the thing: I have benefited greatly from reading stories from others, the daring narratives of those who have histories similar to my own.

We feel more human when we hear that other humans relate to an experience we maybe thought was our very own private hell.

Are you by yourself in a bathroom, crying with a blade? My words are trying to find you. Your words have found me.

When I read Katrina Kittle’s novel, The Kindness of Strangers , I had this wild need to reach out to the author to tell her what an impact it had on me. Distilled down to its essence, the book is about a child who is a victim of sexual abuse. The child finds a “second home” that becomes his safe place. He survives. He thrives.

I understand that yearning to find a safe place outside of one’s home. And I understand that once you've survived abuse, something becomes lodged in you. It is and always will be part of who you are, when your abuser decides they want to write your story.

When I read essays and memoirs by those who have been abused, neglected, and/or bullied, I think, YES. Thank you, writer. I know what that feels like. And I feel less lonely. Less guilty. Less ashamed. Even today, years since I got out of my dangerous childhood home, I yearn for a freedom I may never truly have.

Apart from some high-school literary-wannabe ramblings, I started writing in my twenties. I found it to be a great way for me to get the parent-imposed rot out of me and onto paper. It helped, even if the words remained in ill-conceived journalistic-poem form on my hard drive.

But those words soon turned into fictitious versions of my abuse story.

It wasn’t until recently that I dared to use the word “I.”

And it wasn’t until even more recently that I decided to share my story. I couldn’t even discuss them until my abusive father died. It took me over 10 years to make these stories, my stories, public.

Once these essays were published, I heard from schoolteachers of mine who apologized that they didn’t do anything at the time or didn’t know. I heard from friends who said, “OH MY GOD, I had the same thing happen to me.” I heard from complete strangers who also said they related to my story, which might be the most incredible and meaningful of all — because I was also a reader who found a particular kind of therapy in delving into the stories of other abuse survivors.

People ask what my family would think.

Well, here's what I would say to my family, if they demanded an explanation: You made this dreadful story mine. You started writing it, but now I’m going to finish it — because it is mine.

I'm reclaiming the rights to it. I can tell the story. Do what I please with it. I own it. All of its decrepitude, debauchery, and encumbering, sad delirium. All of its hope, love, and choices. I choose to take it and push it out of me.

Can you understand? Are you by yourself in a bathroom crying with a blade? Are you hiding in the girls’ bathroom at school? Are you wasted at the bar at 3:00? My words are trying to find you. Your words have found me.

Secrets can make your insides rot. It is truly up to you if you want to share any part of your story. But it’s your story that was given to you. You own it. You can choose how to let it affect you.

Tell your story — even if it’s just to yourself.

It’s like a choose-your-own-adventure from here on in. You decide where to go.

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Narrating Trauma—From No Words to Your Words

Healing trauma involves transforming the unspeakable into a story you can tell..

Posted December 13, 2020

• What Is Trauma?
• Find a therapist to heal from trauma

“Trauma defies language; it resists being communicated.” ( Chris N van der Merwe & Pumla Gobodo-MadiKizela)

What is a Traumatic Event?

A traumatic event is most often one that is threatening to the life or bodily integrity of self or a loved one. It may include combat, sexual and physical assault, death of a child, suicide of a loved one, accidents, being held hostage, imprisoned, or tortured, natural and man-made disasters, as well the diagnosis of a life-threatening illness.

The Nature of Traumatic Memory

In most cases, the memory of the traumatic event is not like our memory for ordinary events that can be told as a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end.

Traumatic memories are often choppy, disorganized, and non-sequential with little change over time. They are the imprints and shards of trauma that we need to transform.

Having been at ground zero on 9/11, a firefighter struggled with the feel and taste of dust in his mouth and the image of a woman’s head and hair partially buried in concrete.

A rape victim was perplexed in the ER when told she could call a family member. What would she say? She had no words for what had happened.

A victim of clergy trauma who had almost no memory of the details of his childhood abuse, became nauseous whenever he stepped into a church.

Why Are There Are No Words?

Neurobiological Impact

• In the acute or immediate aftermath of traumatic events, most people don’t have a coherent story of what has happened because they have been surviving.
• In face of danger, our human psychobiology takes over. The right hemisphere of our brain associated with survival behaviors and emotional expression is activated and the left verbal-linguistic part of our brain is suppressed.
• With Autonomic Nervous System hyperarousal , we experience increased heart rate and respiration, cold and pale skin, dilated pupils, and raised blood pressure. Our body has prepared us to respond with the survival reflexes of fight, flight, and freeze.
• Often misunderstood, the freezing response is instinctive to our survival. It is a form of dissociation, such that time slows down and there is a feeling of an altered reality with pain and fear frozen. For the prisoner, the rape victim, and the child victim—it is the escape when there is no escape.

Psychological Impact

Adding to the activation of human survival reflexes in the face of trauma, there are often psychological reasons that keep us from finding the words for what has happened.

Self-Protection

Months and even years after a traumatic event, people can become so terrified of re-experiencing the horror of a traumatic event that they will avoid any triggers of memory. Protecting themselves from pain with avoidance, they are unable to see in the triggered memory, the dream or flashback an opportunity to “make meaning”—to find the words, to begin to heal.

Protection of Others

Some never put words to the feelings, sensory images, or somatic glimpses of their traumatic experience because they try to protect others from what they have faced. Combat Vets fear contaminating their partners. Rape victims fear shaming their families. Children of the Holocaust experienced the intergenerational horror despite a code of silence.

Social/Interpersonal Impact

In the face of family or widespread disaster, many see so much pain that they overlook their entitlement to bear witness, to put words to their own traumatic experience.

“Who am I to speak ? L ook how others have suffered.”

Described as the “ forgotten bereaved ,” siblings who have lost a brother or sister to suicide rarely feel entitled to put words to their pain. Confused, guilty for not saving their sibling , adrift without parents who are lost in grief , they don’t want to add to the pain. They remain painfully silent.

Finding Your Words— Transforming Trauma

Establish Physical and Psychological Safety

• Safety is essential to remembering and transforming trauma. It can be secured differently for different people.
• For some, the passage of time allows enough psychological distance and life experience to respond to a trigger with less terror and more capacity to tell their story.
• For others, their mastery as an adult serves as the buffer for helplessness and allows them to re-connect with a traumatized self.

An adult finds a voice in a group of child abuse survivors and pieces together what was too much for a child to know.

After sixteen years of silence, a rape victim informs the world by publishing her story.

Utilize Positive Connections

Trauma theorist, Judith Herman tells us that, “The action of telling the story in the safety of a protected relationship can actually produce a change in abnormal processing of the traumatic memory.”

• Connection on both conscious and unconscious levels makes it easier to heal trauma. For some, human connection with friends, trusted relatives, or a partner can be the safe context for an unfolding story.
• Connection with a professional therapist from any number of models ( cognitive behavioral therapy , trauma-focused therapy, psychodynamic therapy, prolonged exposure, etc.) can be crucial in transforming trauma. Within a protected space with a trusted therapist who is there to listen, observe and contain what cannot yet be fully articulated, trauma can often be glimpsed in dreams , identified in patterns, and remembered in a different way.
• Healing in a group is a powerful use of connection. Groups of many types offer an opportunity for validation, bearing witness, altruistic giving, and containing the unspeakable aspects of trauma.
• Nothing is more powerful than to see members silently bear witness with their tears or hear someone say:

"Your story is my story — I blamed myself too.”

“You just said what I feel — I couldn’t say it.”

Working From the Body Out

Narrating trauma may start with your body. Given the psychobiology of human survival, what we often cannot say or remember is held within our body.

• Exercise, dance therapy, yoga, etc. serve in the reduction of trauma symptoms because they allow the movement we are wired to experience in face of danger and they re-set a positive connection to our personal experience of bodily sensations.
• Trauma experts like Peter Levine in his book, An Unspoken Voice , recommend that we work from “the bottom up” i.e., that we attend to the sensations, senses, images, postures, and behaviors associated with the aftermath of trauma to unlock the hidden unspoken traumatic story and release the healing potential.
• Creative Modalities Tell the Story

Art, music, writing, and drama draw upon many parts of our brain and in so doing offer expressions of trauma never encoded as words. They are conduits to the healing narrative.

• Those writing about their trauma are often driven by a powerful voice that can write of things that can’t be said aloud. In Operation Homecoming by Andrew Carroll, the writings of thousands of troops and their families give voice to the insider’s experience of war.
• Many, such as the authors of Narrating the Healing , see value not only in writing one’s narrative but sharing it and reading the narratives of others as a way to experience the complexities of trauma at a distance—as a way to find the words for what was has been too painful to say.

The story that we cannot tell — haunts us but never helps us.

Suzanne B. Phillips, Psy.D., ABPP, a psychologist and host of “Psych Up Live” on International Talk Radio, formerly taught at Long Island University Post and is the author of three books including Healing Together for Couples.

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When Love is Brutal: Personal Narrative of Surviving Domestic Abuse

Swati Kamble

My reason for writing this narrative is that I want to face the demons. I want to make sense of the things that happened to me. But not just for me. I want people to know, especially the young girls and women who are conditioned to endure violence and who are silently fighting abuse. I want them to know that they are not alone in this fight. To the society that pretends it is a private matter, I want to say loud and clear that domestic abuse is real. It happens more frequently than we would like to believe. It happens across caste, class, religion and race. Education level of the abuser or  the abused doesn’t have  much impact on how badly you may be beaten up or how long you will stay in that relationship before you get out, if you are able to get out at all. The physical and mental trauma undoubtedly has a long-lasting impact. As survivors, we may feel weak and feeble. But we shouldn’t blame ourselves and should courageously voice out the injustice.

I want to also establish that as much impact the ever pervasive violence has on my life, it does not define me. The person that abused me is just one of the many faceless aggressors around the world who has the same violent, manipulative and guilt-tripping traits. Many educated young girls and women in our community fear and feel ashamed to come out as battered women. I want to plead to all those courageous women out there: don’t let your personal narratives be unheard, don’t be invisible, trapped in the statistics of domestic violence. Let the staggering figures have faces, speak out. Come forward with your stories in solidarity for those beautiful souls who are still struggling to make decisions. Don’t fight in silence.

Coming to my narrative, I have been in a relationship with a man I had known for many years. I respected him and placed my trust in him as a friend and a confidante. I was open to him about my life, my feelings, worries and doubts. However over the years, I started to realize that he used those pieces of my life to coerce me, humiliate me and to isolate me. I had always painted an image of him to be a socially conscientious and sensitive person believing in human rights and values. Every time he hit me, I would look at that instance of abuse as an exception, trying to uphold the image I had of him, until the exception became the norm.

One criticism or question to him, and I was sure to get hit. At times I struggled to ensure not to disappoint him. I began a race with myself to prove to him that I was becoming what he wanted me to be. Although the irrationality of beatings and justifications over the years became more and more clear, I simply kept feeding into his expectations to maintain the peace. Indeed there were times in those five years that I questioned him, but not truly. I agreed to his arguments. I believed that it was my fault to get beatings. I apologized to him for committing ‘mistakes’. Once, he hit me in broad daylight on a street full of people for boarding the general compartment of a train and not the ‘ladies compartment’. He said hitting me was a punishment, to ensure I would remember the next time. I was beaten black and blue with a belt for going on a school reunion picnic because boys also participated in this picnic. He said he didn’t trust any man other than my father and brothers for my safety. He said I was ignorant, that I didn’t know how the world works and therefore I needed his protection.

Growing up as a teenager at home, I didn’t follow a certain hour curfew. But in my mid-twenties, in that relationship, I felt enchained. I would cut short on family events and cancel going out. One angry phone call from him and I frantically left the turmeric ceremony of a friend. I swore to him that I didn’t dance in that ceremony. He said if I properly explained the reasons for attending these events, he would allow me to go. But to him, my explanations were never sufficient. He would say I didn’t have awareness of my body. He would hit me as a punishment so as to remind me to always wear a dupatta (scarf worn over clothes as additional covering for upper front body). At one time, I was hit for bringing ‘burnt’ chapati and ‘leftover gravy’ for him. He said, ‘This shows how much importance I have in your life. You are careless because you don’t value me.’ I was hit again because I became upset and wouldn’t eat.

I was hit in so many instances. Inside the house but also in public places, in Mumbai and during our stay in Europe, on a subway full of people, on bus stops, and while walking through busy streets. I wouldn’t understand why people didn’t question him or stop him. During my gender studies course in a prestigious European university, I was hit to the point where I had to go to the hospital. The side of my eye where he had punched was bleeding. My eye was blue and swollen for days and so was my body. I resumed classes after a week and made my presentation wearing sunglasses. I told my classmates I had fallen off an escalator. Last year when I told one of those classmates what the truth was, she said she wasn’t surprised. She didn’t want to confront me at that time and probe with too many questions, but she knew something wasn’t right. She said many other women in the class actually gossiped about it. It really surprised me that there was such a silence around domestic violence, even among these ‘feminists-to-be’. At that time I didn’t reach out for help. I feared several bad consequences, especially for him in a foreign land if I did so.

He would hit me more aggressively every time I cried for help. When I said I would tell our parents about how he treats me, he would say: ‘We hadn’t involved our parents when we took the decision to be together. We will solve our matters ourselves now too.’ Every time I said I wanted to end this relationship, he would reply: ‘You can’t take this decision on your own, alone’. When I said I would lodge a complaint against him he would say: ‘But you have hit me too, we are equals’, referring to the very few times I had hit him in defense. Or even: ‘In a patriarchal society like ours, my pride is wounded much more by getting hit by a woman.’ When I spoke of rights and equality, he would say: ‘Don’t get influenced by ‘personal is political’ of feminists. Don’t try to be a feminist because it will ruin you.’ He said: ‘Look around. Which feminist do you see with proper families? They have destroyed everything.’

He choked me, and pushed me against the wall. Punching me in the head, he had said it was my stubbornness that brought evil out of him. I would freeze, black out… My brain would literally stop working. I wouldn’t speak a thing and this made him angrier. He said ‘he beat me up but just enough to make me speak out.’ It sounded like a police interrogation tactic. He said to me once: ‘Now I understand why men kill their women in frustration.’

I have read about how cycles of abuse function. How there are patterns that every abuser follows. Yet I had to take my own time. The moment I finally broke the silence, over a year ago, talking to friends and family, it felt like a flood of words gushed out my mouth. I didn’t want to remain in silence anymore. The more I spoke, the more I understood how systematically the violence I endured was normalized. Until then I was ashamed, confused, in disbelief and denial that I was a victim of domestic violence.

How could I believe I was that victim? Coming from a humble background, a Dalit girl growing up in a slum of Mumbai. I had achieved things I hadn’t imagined for myself. My family and community respected me. My opinions mattered. People saw me as a confident, independent young woman. But precisely these facts became detrimental to my coming out. I feared all that I had achieved would be shattered if I came out as a victim of domestic violence. As though it was my failure. I thought of the disgrace it would bring upon my family. I feared he would come after me and he would create a big havoc in front of my family. After all he had said he would do so at many occasions.

There are endless stories of brutalities but the trend would always be the same. To have control over me and to discourage me from taking decisions of my own. Coming to Geneva on my own for PhD in September 2014, finally gave me mental space to understand and process things. For example, I would walk on the streets of Geneva and still feel his surveilling eyes watching me. This made me realize the omnipresent terror I was living with. For five years I thought it was going to be impossible to end this relationship. Even in Geneva where I was on my own, it took time for me to believe that I could actually end it. I finally gathered courage and did it. It wasn’t easy, I was guilt-tripped at every step. Even then he didn’t let me go and continued to manipulate me. He spoke of the morality and values I would be digressing from if I left him. He spoke of betrayal. He said I was betraying him without any other explanation and therefore was resorting to a narrative of abuse. He claimed he could explain every instance of abuse towards me, saying he did all of it out of utmost love and compassion for me. He insisted that I was focusing too much on the bad things and was conveniently forgetting all the good he did for me. He said by running away from him I am taking an easy way out, that if I truly loved him, I would stay on to bring positive change in the relationship.

When his manipulations to bring me back into his life didn’t show any results, he started asking for my forgiveness. He promised that he would change, like he had promised previously after every beating. I was asked why suddenly I took such a step. Had I met someone? Later he started with negotiations. He said if he were to accept my decision, I should accept the conditions that he made, by which I was to stay single all my life and not fall in love with anyone. I also was to see him change and he expected that we wouldn’t give up on the activities of the Dalit women’s rights organization we had started together.

It was plain mockery that during our relationship, in social forums we went together to speak as colleagues for Dalit women’s rights and in the private domain my rights were getting violated every day. We both led very contrasting lives. To the outer world I was a confident, outspoken young woman and he an introvert but equally diligent promoter of Dalit women’s rights. In my personal life I was oppressed and he was oppressing me. Who could have ever believed? For example, people were shocked to know he could do something like this to anyone. At the very same instance some told me to forget about it. Most of the people I spoke with gave well-meaning advice. They said you are out of it and that’s what matters. You have a better life ahead and he doesn’t deserve your attention. I saw that as much as people felt sad, shocked about partner abuse, they thought it to be normal. Something to be forgotten about and moved on.

A few common friends didn’t break their silence about this. They thought they couldn’t take sides and told me so. Some took upon task of moral policing. Many couldn’t understand why I didn’t leave earlier. Few asked me why now, after five years? What triggered this sudden decision? As if, by having stayed on for five years in that relationship, I had lost the legitimacy to question it and to finally come out of it. Some thought mine was a hasty decision, and I should think over it. Others made it an issue of pride that I didn’t reach out to them first. Some said he is their friend and they are concerned about the consequences the end of our relationship would have on him.

After the end of this abusive relationship, my life took a dramatic turn. A magical one even, if I may say so. I found an amazing connection with an old friend from Belgium who I could share my every thought with. A year later we decided to get married. As the news of my marriage with a ‘white man’ broke in December 2015, there were further waves of shock. Word went around that I betrayed a ‘good man from our community’ for a ‘white man from foreign land’. I was said to have gone for ‘a better option’. However, many people did reach out and congratulate me. I thank them for their support. I am now in an equal and respectful relationship full of love and trust. My partner, our friends and families on both the parts of the world (India and Belgium) have supported us wholeheartedly. Their support has been crucial for me to stand strong.

Towards the end of my narrative I want to address to the people who want to know why I didn’t leave in those five years. Although I don’t owe any explanation, I am stating the reasons that are commonly recognized in partner abuse. I would like this to help women in abusive relationships to understand the patterns of abuse they are facing.

I didn’t leave because firstly I couldn’t believe I was being abused. I have been an educated and empowered woman, vocal about  marginalized women’s rights. How could this have happened to me? Moreover, the common belief is that domestic abuse would happen to illiterate and dis-empowered women, perpetrated by alcoholic men. Him being a human rights activist, he didn’t fit the profile of a domestic abuser. We both didn’t fit the profiles of the abused and the abuser. I say people, it’s a myth! Domestic abusers do not have a specific profile. I plead women to not feel ashamed because you have been abused. Domestic violence does not define who you are as a person.

I didn’t leave because I tried to find rationality in his reasoning. I started to think that since he couldn’t get angry at me for no reason, maybe I was doing something wrong that made him angry. Gradually I was conditioned to blame myself in this relationship. I thought I could make things better and that time would strengthen trust in the relationship. Research shows that most domestic abusers face aggressive disorder and their anger doesn’t always have rational reasoning. Domestic abusers use systematic strategies for coercion and manipulation. Believing that it’s your fault will further drag you into a cycle of abuse.

I didn’t leave because I believed I could help him. Many a times, he said he needed me to make him a better person. That only I could help him. I started reading articles on living with a temperamental person. My plea to women is ,to not to try save somebody by endangering your own life. Don’t wait for him to change. Because while there are chances he may change, he probably needs an external expert to help. You as a victim of abuse should first seek distance from the abusive relationship for your own safety.

I didn’t leave because I kept raising the threshold to be reached before leaving. First, I told him I would leave him if he abused and humiliated me publically. But when that happened, I started saying I will leave you if you hit me in front of our family members. And when that happened too, I again created a much higher threshold. I said to him, “in the future, if we get married and start a family, I will leave you the day you abuse me in front our kids.” Once he told me after hitting me in front his sister: ‘Now that you brought out an evil side of me in front my sister, I will no longer have any inhibitions to hit you in front of anybody anymore.’ He said, ‘you have just created the worst outcome for yourself.’ I beg all women to have a zero tolerance for any form of abuse. Do not let your respect and dignity be compromised at any cost.

I didn’t leave because I didn’t know how to. Without realizing it, I was imposing rules on myself to keep the peace, to make him happy. This also led to my withdrawal from friends and family. Isolation made it more difficult for me to get an objective explanation of the situation. Dear courageous women, do not close yourself down. Reach out to family and friends. Consider their opinions. Importantly, take your own decisions. We have to live life and learn through it. We all may feel vulnerable. I feel so vulnerable at times and it surprises me even now to think how much of an impact violence has on me. I considered myself ta strong person, and now my vulnerability too has become part of my strength.

Before I conclude, I want to address the people who know the person that abused me. After reading this, some of you might get angry and maybe even distance yourself from him. I feel it may not serve as a solution. There are too many cases of domestic abuse to only blame and punish one person. We have to reflect as a society on how we are dealing with issues of violence. There is naming and shaming of the victims/survivors of domestic abuse. Every time a woman decides to walk out of a bad relationship, her chastity is questioned. Speak out against domestic violence. Support those who speak out against the domestic violence happening to them. There should also be awareness and openness in society to recognize anger and aggression as a psychological disorder. People with anger and aggressive disorder should seek help. Along with children, women are the primary victims of the aggressive disorder of their partners.

I have come to the end of my narrative here. You might think why I am writing about something so personal to me. I have stated the reasons in the beginning of this text. In conclusion, I want to reinforce them. I want to build solidarity with the survivors of domestic violence and to get the discussion going. As we teach our young girls and women lessons of empowerment, we must also equip our whole society, especially men, to be emancipated and to embrace gender equality in its truest sense. Equality, not as a value ‘out there’, but as a habit integrated in our day to day life. Society should nurture its young girls and women to think independently. Rather than emphasizing the virtue of sacrifice, they should be empowered to put themselves first. They should be taught that assertion for their rights is important and normal. Society should, at the same time understand that it is normal for women in an abusive relationship, to be vulnerable and feel at their weakest. Young girls and women should in fact know that it is only when we are able to care for ourselves and value ourselves, that we find our true selves and the strength within, to accept who we are. Jai Bhim!

Swati Kamble is a Dalit women’s rights activist, presently doing a PhD in Socio-economics at the University of Geneva on caste and gender inequalities in policy processes in India. 

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36 comments.

I am soo soo proud of you swati…it takes courage for one to stand up for oneself….i like n respect you even more

Really proud of you. I also there in the process of change. Thank you for writing this really helped me a lot.Now I am seeing u at the place where i was expected from you. all the best for future life journey.

Respect.. And a hug 🙂

Brilliant presentation by a confident woman whose confidence was shattered in marriage and now recovered. Women do take a lot of time to come out of hostile conjugal relations. Her experience is no exception. Better late than never in arriving at truth. The truth of the matter is that every man or woman must live the life of dignity and worthiness. It must ultimately be a self-empowered life, without which human beings will lead a sub-human life. I liked the narrative flow immensely. I am going to post this page in my facebook line. Thanks for sharing all your emotions and reasoning too. What I liked the most is the way you conducted yourself with a sense of dignity in expressing these thoughts. A certain cool and unruffled presentation. Thank you very much.

It’s Shocking dear, I respect you and your courage and decision

beautifully honest. You are a winner.

Swati, first of all congratulations, on being able to marshal all that you went through and then having the courage to put that in words here. Congratulations also, for having the strength and tenacity to not let this break you down. What you went through was horrifying, and I am truly sorry that you had to experience that. Every so often I will find instances of domestic abuse wherein it was known to the families and friends, and no one did anything to question or empower the victim, all because it was considered a “private matter”. This has the power to stun me beyond words, every damn time. Some things are so wrong, that you know it in your bones. And if you stood by and kept silent, then you are equally responsible. So for those who watched you get abused and maintained their silence, that’s on them, not you. I understand why it took you so long to break your silence and get out of that situation. Abuse of that kind shuts down your brain in a way, and it takes years to admit, even to yourself about the gross crime that is being committed against you. And if you are an empowered woman, for all appearances, then it is downright impossible to accept that such a thing might happen to you. You don’t owe anyone an apology or an explanation for why it took you so long to break your silence. It’s your life, and if people didn’t think it was their business to question what was happening to you before, they certainly have no damn business asking you why you speak now and not then. Kudos to you for being brave enough to fall in love again. Really. May you always blaze your way forward.

I salute you.. Stand strong and I wish you happiness in your new relationship. Best wishes and lost of love from Pakistan!!

Thank you for sharing your experience with us all. I m proud of your courage and decision. I would love to meet you if we can. I’ll be coming next week to London. Love, Rina

Very grateful to you Swati for putting into words and breathing life to a necessary aspect that most of us might think but seldom vocalize or humanize our understanding on. I hope you are able to exhale after sharing this and I hope all the affirmations are strengthening and embracing you with love and sister support. As you know, there are mostly two ways in which a Dalit woman’s truth is portrayed by others beyond her in the social spaces. Either she is vilified or her pain is dramatically storified for academic and non profit consumption. I wish you strength to breathe past the vilification. I caution you against capitalistic predators who sell stories of Dalit women’s trauma and pain on institutional stages, aided by Brahmin – savarna, white and other mindless accomplices. Be aware my sister, be aware. I salute you for standing in your truth, culture, power and integrity.You have absolutely broadened understanding of personal and collective accountability around domestic violence by sharing your truth in all its nuanced complexity. Your loving and living approach is inspiring. Jai Bhim !

Dear Swati, Thanks for sharing you experience..as you mentioned it is very difficult for a woman /girl to get realize and accept the reality of violence and to accept that she is a ‘victim’. It needs courage…you give this courage to women through sharing of your story… Congratulations to you to get out from that life..salute to your courage…and yes..congratulations!!! to both of you for your new life…..!!! love you yaar….

Hats off to you madam… May you succeed in all that you want

Thank you for helping us understand better. Hundreds of years of socialization has so deeply embeded violence in us men, it will take a large,strong and militant movement to up root the violence and rid ourselves of it. Thank you Dear I. Take care. In solidarity. Sebbi

can i please have your email id. plzz

Certainly Richa! my email ID is [email protected]

Great,u fought a demon to free yourself.remaining silent for 5 years is torturing yourself.

In our society each and every female were abused.But they didn’t speak and tolerate every things.When educated partners, do these type of behaviour it’s very shocking.We must have to start some campaign, or as a mother we are not giving proper education to both our mail/female child.As you are so educated,I think you should start some work to change society and its orthodox thinking. Most important thing is educate women,so she can understand low,and give good education and humanity lessons to there family’s.lf you’ll start any movement I’ll surely support you.And please involves who has supported to you.looking forward and support you.

You are beautiful, strong and truly inspirational person. Hope that a little lamp may shine for those in the dark trying their way out. Every precisely written.

Swati, power to you. And to all those suffering in silence and agony. And it’s never too late to speak about injustice. Jai bhim!

A very touching narrative. I salute your strength in sharing your personal story. It is only by people like you standing up and sharing that others in the same position will have the the courage to follow. I am so sorry for all the pain you have been through. There is no excuse in a relationship for one person hitting another, absolutely none. Hopefully you have seen the worst, and life will be much more loving and peaceful henceforth. Thank you and with you the best

Thank you so much for sharing.

More power to you, Swati. Congratulations on writing so strongly and clearly about such a traumatic period of your life. I’m sure it will help many others who find themselves in similar situations. All the best for the rest of your life!

Thanks swati for sharing your experience….Very Very congratulations to you for raising your voice against violence….because as you mentioned it is really very difficult for any women or girl to understand and accept it that she is a victim of such kind of violence….Thanks to give courage…And many many congratulations for your new Life…….Love you!!!!!

i really like u r decision. these all experience actually gave me strength to think about my life what i am doing in my life and what i should do in future. thank u Swati

Manisha dear I am happy this narrative has given you strength. Take care of yourself. And please write to me if you feel like: [email protected]

Thank you all! for all your loving and encouraging messages . As a friend very aptly stated we have to work towards healing through conversations. This solidarity has built my courage even more.

Swati you have courage to share this with masses..well done! Thanks for sharing it will definitely help others.

Thanks to share your struggle to fight with your self…and you come out of it with a great courage..well done.Thanks for sharing to give more strength to other friends..

Thanks for sharing your story with rest of the world Swati….I can relate to it a lot as I was in a mentally abusive relationship myself…in my case physical abuse didn’t happen because I didn’t take it but mental abuse was done everyday….but I was not taking it because I was trying to justify him but for my parents as I didn’t want to cause any problem for them as they fulfilled my wish to marry that stupid person against rest of the family…so I was trying keep this marriage alive but I acknowledged the problem from the very first month of my marriage…but later after several years everything was open in front of my whole family that I am living a lie..my marriage was not what it looked from outside….once my family realised that they supported me..they are still supporting me in my decision…always remember things happen for a reason….what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger….there are many women out there who don’t even know that they are victim of mental abuse….I wish we could help them somehow…Indian culture is like that we can’t blame the guys…I am glad that you were smart enough not to marry another jackass from there…

Love and respect.

Salute to a courageous woman.

Proud of you……. Hats Off to You dear !!

Dear Swati, Your narration has given strength to you as well as to so many victims of such kind of violence.All have to work towards it- have to sensitize not only women but also men -“How to respect Women”. If they think that women is a weaker sex, that is an artificial creation, not an edict of God. Again, all should know the legal provisions and constitutional provisions for women and punishments of the offenders for crimes committed on women. For protection of women there is Domestic Violence Act,2005 which has not been able to respond to growing menace of crimes committed on women because the punishment is not exemplary so as to create its impact in the society. Thanks a lot for your posting.

Dear Swati, I find your article so revealing of the abuser’s mentality and I feel it will help other victims to see the signs sooner than they would otherwise. Here are some telltale signs I think all girls should look out for: Whether they are physical or mental abusers, they first establish an image of being “good” themselves. They sell the image very successfully before the victim realizes that it is more a built image than a genuine one. This subtly makes the victim feel morally inferior and therefore doubt their own judgment. The more decent the victim, the longer it takes for them to realize that the abuser is really in the wrong; they try to be generous and want to be sure that the abuser is really bad, that they are not being hasty and biased in their own judgment. And this partly because of the image they successfully project to others as this guy did to you and probably others. The victim then starts wondering if all these people who think well of the abuser could be wrong and further doubt their own judgment. And the silence around of those who think they cannot interfere in the private affairs of a family or a couple also reinforces these doubts. These abusers mouth all the right views and “exploit” the deep rooted prejudices of the society in their favour. They also tend to plead and apologise when they feel they are losing their victim/ that the victim is breaking free, to win them back and try to play the guilt card like this guy who kept saying he depended on you to make him better. So much so every time he misbehaves, the victim thinks they have failed the abuser instead of the other way around.

Your article made me think. If feel: 1. In a way and ironically, the abuser runs true to type. And we would see it straightaway if only we trusted our instincts instead of allowing our “sophisticated” education reason away these signs. Very subtly we also fall prey to the brainwashing that society subjects us to- ideas like it happens only in old fashioned families, it happens only among the poor etc etc. lesson 1: Trust your instincts; do not let anyone or even education suppress your instincts. 2.Another factor that will help a victim identify the problem early and break away from an abusive relationship could be a questioning mind that does not accept conventional concepts of right and wrong, of what is acceptable and what unacceptable etc…

Let all mothers raise our girls to trust their instincts and not tolerate even the faintest whiff of domination. this will help them protect themselves from abuse.

Proud of you Dear …. enjoy each moment of your life 🙂 Thanks for sharing it

Proud & Hats Off to You dear !!

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Home — Essay Samples — Law, Crime & Punishment — Child Abuse — Child Abuse: Forms, Causes, Consequences, Prevention

Child Abuse: Forms, Causes, Consequences, Prevention

• Categories: Child Abuse Depression

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Words: 784 |

Published: Jan 31, 2024

Words: 784 | Pages: 2 | 4 min read

References:

• U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. (2018). Child Maltreatment 2018. Retrieved from https://www.acf.hhs.gov/cb/research-data-technology/statistics-research/child-maltreatment
• Stith, S. M., Liu, T., Davies, L. C., Boykin, E. L., Alder, M. C., Harris, J. M., ... & Dees, J. E. M. (2009). Risk factors in child maltreatment: A meta-analytic review of the literature. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 14(1), 13-29.
• Wekerle, C., & Wall, A. M. (2003). The impact of childhood maltreatment on adolescent school performance: A multilevel model. Child Abuse & Neglect, 27(5), 155-171.

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I Used to Judge Women in Abusive Relationships — Until I Became One

When your self esteem is chipped away and you're terrified of being alone, you may not even realize it's abuse.

He threw the car into park, and turned to face me with a look of pure rage. His fist connected with the left side of my jaw, the right side of my head hit the passenger-side window, and I heard a loud crack .

He wasn't finished, though. He grabbed my hair and pinched my arm, bruising it instantly, and then he reached over and squeezed my throat. I somehow croaked out, "You loved me once!" and he let go, disgust on his face. It was after midnight, and I got out of the car, numb and overwhelmingly ashamed, and walked a mile back to my friend's house as he squealed the tires and raced away from me.

Two days later, I drove myself to an urgent care facility when I couldn't move my neck.

"How did you sustain the injury?" the young doctor asked me.

"I was at a Super Bowl party and playing on the floor with some kids, and one of them jumped on my neck," I lied. It was the first of many lies I would tell about my relationship. The thought of telling the truth was humiliating. Plus, I thought, It's my fault anyway .

The doctor glanced at the fading finger imprints around my throat and the angry green and black bruises on my arm. I could feel his gaze on me as he wrote a prescription for a painkiller and muscle relaxers.

"You have a severe sprain," he told me. "You're lucky you didn't break it."

Later that week, I was in a golf cart with a colleague at a client event, wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a collar. I reached over to grab a water bottle, and the bruises on my upper arm were exposed.

My colleague took my hand and looked me in the eye. "Please don't tell me it's like that, Kristin," he said quietly. I looked away.

A Slippery Slope

It didn't start like this when I met my live-in boyfriend six years earlier. At first, he was loving and sweet and attentive. I was already in love with him by the first time he called me a worthless piece of s*** in an alcohol-infused fury; I was in shock. I thought about leaving him that night, but I was frozen with indecision. I loved him, after all. And my mind had started to believe what he said about me.

The next morning, he was sober again and rushed to apologize, holding me in his arms while I cried. The cycle began.

.css-107b7z2{font-family:MajestiBanner,MajestiBanner-weightbold-roboto,MajestiBanner-weightbold-local,Georgia,Times,Serif;font-size:1.625rem;font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:0.03rem;line-height:1.2;margin:0rem;}@media(max-width: 64rem){.css-107b7z2{font-size:2.5rem;line-height:1;}}@media(min-width: 48rem){.css-107b7z2{font-size:2.8125rem;line-height:1;}}@media(min-width: 64rem){.css-107b7z2{font-size:3.125rem;line-height:1;}}.css-107b7z2 b,.css-107b7z2 strong{font-family:inherit;font-weight:bold;}.css-107b7z2 em,.css-107b7z2 i{font-style:italic;font-family:inherit;} Over the course of several years, I had learned to see myself through his eyes: unattractive, unlovable, and stupid.

The first time he kicked me, I was walking down the stairs to our apartment, and he told me it was my fault. I "pushed his buttons" and made him do it. Soon, I started taking all the blame for his rages, walking on eggshells every moment we were together.

Over the course of several years, I had learned to see myself through his eyes: unattractive, unlovable, and stupid. I believed him when he told me that he was the best I would ever find and that I was not sexy or desirable. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself that he was talking about himself — not about me.

I thought I knew all about abusive relationships before I found myself in the middle of one. I thought I was too smart to get involved with someone who would hurt me physically and mentally. I thought I knew what to look for and that it would be so obvious that I needed to walk away. I thought I didn't fit into the "stereotypical" mold of what a domestic violence survivor looks like. I'm sure that once upon a time, I looked down on women who were in abusive relationships and found them weak.

Breaking the Silence

In the end, I didn't walk away from him. And I didn't tell my closest friends and family for years about what happened — most of them not until after he left me to move in with another woman four years into our marriage. Now, I tell my story without (most of) the shame; I believe it's important to share it to show others that someone can come through this and survive. And perhaps thrive. Maybe it will help someone you know. Maybe it will help you . I tell the story to help my nieces, my friends, my colleagues, myself.

People are often baffled by how beautiful, intelligent women fall in love with (and even marry) abusers. The truth is that it happens very gradually. It begins with a sarcastic putdown, and is followed up quickly by an apology. It may escalate to a kick or a slap, with more apologies and promises that it will never happen again. By the time I realized that I was in a bad relationship, I had invested so much of myself and my self-esteem had been chipped away so drastically, I was terrified to be alone.

You may know someone who has been abused, and you can't understand why she doesn't leave. She may be afraid that no one else will love her. Perhaps she has kids and doesn't know how to provide for them on her own. He may have threatened to kill her. She may be so ashamed that no one knows the extent of the abuse and suffers in silence. He may be someone powerful or well-liked in the community, and she is afraid no one would believe her.

This post is part of a Good Housekeeping series of stories about domestic violence and abuse . If you or someone you know is at risk, reach the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 . If you are in danger, call 911. More information and resources are available at the National Resource Center on Domestic Violence or the National Online Resource Center for Violence Against Women .

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Narrative Essays

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When writing a narrative essay, one might think of it as telling a story. These essays are often anecdotal, experiential, and personal—allowing students to express themselves in a creative and, quite often, moving ways.

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• If written as a story, the essay should include all the parts of a story.

This means that you must include an introduction, plot, characters, setting, climax, and conclusion.

• When would a narrative essay not be written as a story?

A good example of this is when an instructor asks a student to write a book report. Obviously, this would not necessarily follow the pattern of a story and would focus on providing an informative narrative for the reader.

• The essay should have a purpose.

Make a point! Think of this as the thesis of your story. If there is no point to what you are narrating, why narrate it at all?

• The essay should be written from a clear point of view.

It is quite common for narrative essays to be written from the standpoint of the author; however, this is not the sole perspective to be considered. Creativity in narrative essays oftentimes manifests itself in the form of authorial perspective.

• Use clear and concise language throughout the essay.

Much like the descriptive essay, narrative essays are effective when the language is carefully, particularly, and artfully chosen. Use specific language to evoke specific emotions and senses in the reader.

• The use of the first person pronoun ‘I’ is welcomed.

Do not abuse this guideline! Though it is welcomed it is not necessary—nor should it be overused for lack of clearer diction.

• As always, be organized!

Have a clear introduction that sets the tone for the remainder of the essay. Do not leave the reader guessing about the purpose of your narrative. Remember, you are in control of the essay, so guide it where you desire (just make sure your audience can follow your lead).

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