interlude.
The reason for this blog is not to cause harm or to bring shame to anyone. This is not to bring shame or embarrassment. But this is to release. Release those who have gone through similar tragedies and made similar mistakes as me, to release those who watched my mind deteriorate piece by piece with no idea how to help me. This is to also release those who have hurt me. It has taken me a long time to even admit that I have indeed been hurt. This is for you guys too. This is also for people who have loved ones who are going through mental health issues. It is not easy to see someone you love shatter in front of you. Last but not least, this release is for my broken heart and the part of my subconscious that will not allow me to show any sign of hurt or pain.
The thought that I must never show irritation or annoyance, that I must instead behave like a Stepford wife in order to be seen as desirable. This is to silence the thoughts that tell me "I must not display the endurance of pain but I must be in pain, in silence." This has been allowing those who have bruised me, to continue to go on with their lives peacefully, with no remorse, whilst I battle with depression, hiding under my bed, tormented and scarred by memories. Not anymore. I deserve this release because I worked for it, I fought for it and regardless of who does or does not believe it- this release is in fact mine.
My previous relationship was very public. You may have seen us on social media, at weddings, parties or restaurants. You are free to question why I stayed in the relationship for so long, you may question why I never called the police during the relationship or why I did not just leave. You may even question if this is even true. You are completely within your right to have these questions and/or comments- but I beseech you, please be very careful not to speak to negatively on this situation. I personally never thought I would go through something like this- yet here I am.
Instead, learn from this. Protect your sons and your daughters, brother and sisters, friends and peers. If you notice the signs, speak to them. You may be saving their lives.
On the 25th March, 2017, I tried to commit suicide.
Why did I do this? I was quite depressed. I questioned my use on this earth. I felt alone. No one seemed to understand what I was going through. I thought hell would have been better than my state of life. I was running out of my mind and nothing/no cone could catch me. I had lost all understanding of my identity and I decided it was time for me to go.
stats.
- There is one death by suicide every 2 hours
- Suicide is the leading cause of death for people aged 20- 34, with men being three times as likely to commit suicide compared to women
- It is the leading cause for men under 50
Now lets get straight into my story.
backstory.
December 2016,
I was about to enter the new year with the only man who had ever made it clear he wanted to marry me. I had met someone who was willing to have me as his wife, amongst all of my mess, someone genuinely wanted me.
So I put up with the abuse. I handled the controlling behaviour, the intimidation. The bruises. I stayed after being chucked around the living room. I held his hand after being screamed at and humiliated in the street. I wiped my tears and kissed him goodnight after being penetrated without consent. During one of the nights, I begged him to let my body rest but he refused. He found it exhilarating that I had a history of sexual abuse and frequently dealt with flashbacks. I did not have a choice. So I used my hands to try to push him off me, whilst he used his hands to cover my mouth and muffle my cry. I used my feet to try to shuffle away. He used his legs to hold me in place. It would happen on the floor. I remember the red rug. I hated that rug. It would burn me on my legs from trying to get away. But underneath the red rug was the cold grey floor. When I managed to wiggle my way to the corner of the room, I would reach the cold marble. From there- I had no where to wiggle to. I was boxed in because of the sofa. Oh how I missed that red rug! When he had finished he would normally use the loo. This gave me a couple a minute to gather my thoughts and check the state I was in.
"Okay Katt, you have about 60 seconds to get this done...Firstly, can you move your legs? Okay great. Can you close them? Are you bleeding? Is there anywhere that has a larger amount of pain compared to the rest of your body? How do your ribs feel? Hurry up and check... Okay now stop moving and roll on your side so he can think you are sleeping and hopefully you won't have to go through this agai-"
Nope. Too late. He had seen me move and was ready to take what he thought was his. I have no energy to fight anymore so its less work for him. By this time in the night, I would be silent. Tears would just fall off my face on to the cold marble. I really missed that rug.
I guess you're wondering why I put up with all of this? Because I was about to be a wife. Finally! All of my Nigerian aunties will have to stop putting pressure on me to marry. They might even be proud of me, because I am about to be claimed by a man. So I didn't just stay, I stayed and smiled because anything would be better than loneliness and deep down he must have loved me. That was what I told myself. The truth was I was not mentally okay. Lets call a spade a spade. I was not well.
January 2017,
As I crossed over into the new year, I started attending a new church. I did not really understand why- but I could feel God leading me there. Within the space of one month, I had decided I wanted to live a life of purity (no sex), so I told my partner. He wasn't exactly pleased but we were planning to wed in the summer so the wait wasn't going to really be that long. I started to enjoy this lifestyle of holiness, it wasn't easy- but I felt like I didn't have to live a lie anymore. I felt like I could love God with my whole heart, for the first time in my life, because my legs were closed! It felt so good, but the Mr was not feeling the same. His temperament became increasingly worse, his anger was growing out of control and my anxiety went through the roof.
Side note: Now that I look back, I feel like his growing anger was less about him being sexually frustrated and more about me taking back control over my body.
I started to see him less and less, until I decided to go on consecration (a time devoted to hearing what is is God wanted to say) and get actual clarity.
February 2017,
Valentines day. I am a hopeless romantic. I love flowers and teddy bears, I love giving gifts and writing essays in cards about how much I appreciate the man I am with. But this Valentines day was hell on earth. It was a day of public humiliation, being dragged in the street, trying not to cry and then dinner. I remember the weather. It rained so badly. He wouldn't let us go home because I had made him mad. I can't remember what I had done that day, but whatever it was- made him flip. He made us walk for hours in the rain. Sometimes he would walk off and tell me not to follow him, but I was in the middle of Hackney and I knew no one. So I would run after him and beg him not to leave me. I was powerless. And scared and weak and alone.
At dinner, I remember sitting at the table, at breaking point. I could feel my mind slipping away to a dark place. I remember drifting. As he spoke and told me why I was the worst girlfriend in the world, I looked above his head. I saw the bottles of wine. There were like a moonlight colour. They were stacked on shelves. I stared at them whilst he told me how useless I was since I no longer pleased him. Since I decided I did not want to have sex, my use had gone. I was barely there. My mind had gone. "At least I wasn't alone tho. He wants to marry me. I just need to hold on."
But I couldn't hold on. After much prayer- I decided to leave him. I decided to call all engagement/wedding plans off. I wanted out. I had decided. It was time for me to go. So I told him. Enough was enough. I needed to get out. It wasn't working. It's not you- it's me. I love you but this isn't for me anymore. Please don't hate me. I just can't stay.
That was when he began to lose his mind.
March 2017,
He began to call me constantly, questioning how long we were going to be apart for, what I had been up to, where I had been going, who I had been seeing, what I had been eating.
Side note: This was another example of him wanting to get his control back. It went from him letting me know where I could and could not go- to not knowing where I was and who I was with. It was truly torture for him.
As time went on, I began to make it more clear that we were not going to get back together. I assumed he would kick up a bit of a fuss, perhaps shout and scream, but I thought he would want his space eventually. But he didn't. He continued to call non stop, sometimes between 10- 20 times a day. I started to get weary. I could feel my mind slipping again.
He began to harass not only me, but my mum too. He would turn up at my house. I was barely eating and sleeping. My mind was circling the drain. I started to question if I was ever going to be free.
March 25th
I found myself on the edge. I had been thinking about the abuse I had gone through since childhood. The molestation, grooming, rapes, domestic violence. I was at my lowest. One evening he called. I answered. He could tell I wasn't feeling good so he began to ask questions. Eventually- I told him. I told him that I felt like life had been so tough on me and it wasn't fair. I was a victim and after all these years- those people were happy living their lives. I told him how upsetting it was to feel like I am nothing more than trash that needs to be disregarded. I became angry and confused. I cried. He listened. And then he spoke.
His response was very simple. It cut me like a knife. "Look at how many years it has been. You still aren't over it. You call yourself a Christian but you haven't forgiven them. You aren't a Christian and you are never going to get over your past. This is what you are. This is what you will always be." It cut like a knife. The words circled my brain until the last bits of my mind had slipped down the drain.
So I agreed with him. I put the phone on my bed. I walked to my medicine cupboard, silently. I took 4 boxes out. They were different colours. I closed the draw back. I went back over to my bed. I sat down. I plucked pill after pill out of the packets, I did not say a word. Tears ran down my face. Silent tears. I was finished. I had nothing left to fight with. Throughout my whole life I have had to fight child molesters, paedophiles, groomers, rapists, physical abusers, racists, sexists, family members, university boys, peers, strangers, church members and boyfriends. Everyone of them tried to take something from me. I was always losing. I have had to combat hating my image, my body and what I had grown into. I had to deal with other people and their insecurities. I have had to fight homelessness, mental health issues, my destroyed childhood, addictions to all things sex and alcohol. I had to combat not being wanted as a child, as a teenager and an adult. I had to fight for a stable mind after the termination of my son. My baby boy. And I had nothing left to fight with. Like I said, I was finished. I was so tired. All I could do was swallow.
So I swallowed pill after pill. I apologised to God and expressed in my heart that I could take no more. I continued to swallow. "I am never going to be okay. It has been years and I am still so broken." It wasn't long till I had passed out. Like I said, I was finished and it was time for me to go. Surely death was better than this.
March 26th
I woke up in the morning. The sun hit my eyelids. I struggled to open them. I could barely move but I was alive. Quick check..
"Okay can you move your legs? Can you sit up? Can you speak? Are you alive? I think you're alive."
And I was alive. As I came around to my senses I sat up in bed. I cried. I laughed. I cried some more. I grabbed my arms. They were cold. I grabbed my hair. I ran my fingers through my curls. I felt my skin, I pinched and pulled my skin and I cried. I should have been dead. It made no sense. My stomach felt terrible. It felt like I had swallowed stone. The headache started to come but I continued to laugh and cry. I rolled around in my bed. I looked delirious. I laughed from the pit of my stone-heavy belly with tears rolling down my face. My tears rolled off my face on to my flowery bed sheets. It was so surreal. The sun was shinning through my window, bright like a summers morning when I was back in primary school during the 6 weeks holidays. The day seemed so bright. One of those bright days that stop you from laying in bed because you feel like you're wasting it. I cried so hard. I was so grateful for life. I felt like God had been fighting for me. I felt like the Creator of the universe took care of me when I gave up. For the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn't on my own. I had someone in my corner. Someone had my back. Someone covered me when I was exposed. Someone took care of me. Me! Someone protected me. But it wasn't just anyone- it was the King of all Kings. I had my Heavenly Father and all of heaven by my side. So guess what that means...it means that I win :)
I can't explain it very well- but March 26th felt like the first day of the rest of my life. I got ready and I went to my church. And I made sure I was going to live it for King Jesus. I completely removed my ex out of my life. He no longer has any access to me. I got mental help and I started to speak to my loved ones about the state of my mind. It hasn't even been a year yet but I trusted God for full restoration and He really did it for me. I am so grateful for my life because on March 25th 2017, I had asked for death.
There is something missing from this story. Something that may completely confuse you. I wasn't going to mention this- but I think I should.
A week before I tried to commit suicide- I was in my church and my Apostle told me what I was called to do on this earth. I had already known most of it- but it was confirmed. Satan got scared. March 25th was the last chance he had to get rid of me. I thank GOD everyday that it did not work.
victory.
So I would like to declare how awesome my God is. He has saved my life on numerous occasions and I can’t express how much He means to me. King Jesus loved me so much that He died for me. And I am so thankful. I genuinely deserved death but He gave me everlasting life. I no longer fight with my past. It didn't win and it never will. By the grace of JESUS- it never will.
That relationship nearly killed me. The abuse nearly killed me. The cycles of sexual trauma I experienced from the age of 8 to 24 nearly killed me. I genuinely never thought I would be okay. But I am. I sometimes get flashbacks of the abuse I endured, I can sometimes see the red rug on the marble floor, but I am okay. I can sometimes get flashbacks if I am in Hackney or I may have a moment of fear if I think I see him in the street, but I am okay. I am far away from him and I am safe in the arms of my Creator. The love of my life and the lifter of my head.
If you are battling with suicidal thoughts, speak to someone. Get the help and support you need. If your relationship is abusive, whether that be emotionally, sexually, physically.. whatever the case, get support and get out. You are worth so much more than that. You were worth dying for. So get out of that mess and live! If you are dealing with flashbacks from a painful past- speak about it. We all deserve complete healing, that includes you.
This is my final blog (for now) so thank you so much for being on this journey with me.
Please remember that you are loved beyond belief and you were worth dying for. Romans 5:8 But God demonstrates His own love towards us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Thank you for reading and GOD bless!
No comments:
Post a Comment