Four years ago today was when I escaped my abusive marriage. How does it feel? Quite liberating. I still remember how it all happened and every time I think of it, I still feel the shivers running down my spine.
This was my third attempt to leave after two failed attempts so you can imagine how terrified I was of getting caught in the act. I didn’t want to do it alone and I am so grateful that I didn’t have to. For once, I had trustworthy people on my side, willing to go all the way to get me out of my situation. After a month of planning, I gave the little money that I had secretly hidden under my bed to my friends to buy me a one way ticket out of the country. It was the only way to leave because I didn’t have the liberty to just walk out. He would have found me and even worse found a way to get me back. My family wasn’t willing to fight this battle with me on my terms – they thought counselling and prayer was a better option. I knew better because I was married to this man for six long years. I knew his ways, his tactics, his lies but most of all I KNEW his abuse. And I wanted none of that anymore. I didn’t want to live only to wish I were dead. I didn’t want to cry out to God in the bathtub with the shower on everyday. I wanted to know what an appetite felt like again. I wanted to look better than pale and malnourished. I wanted to sleep well and eat well. I wanted to live again.
So even though everyone except a few were against me walking out on my marriage, I did it. Because I wanted to, I had to and I couldn’t live like that anymore. It was as good as being his prisoner/trophy wife. It was the worst. And so I got my ticket booked, got my important documents safe and gave a few things that I could to my friends to have packed for me. Most of my stuff I had to leave behind and some of those things were never returned out of sheer vengeance.
I am so grateful for the friends who helped me because without them I couldn’t have got out. I was too scared to even think of how to leave again. For years, my passport was under lock and key but the idea to try leaving again came about when I was asked to apply for a visit visa to the USA to attend a conference with his family. To my good fortune, my ex husband sent me without any supporting documents because of which the embassy asked to reapply for the visa. What I did was select a new date that was a month later even though there were appointments available earlier from that date. I bought my time. During this waiting period I just casually kept my documents including the passport with me and put on the best appearances I ever could to help keep my ex husband’s guard down and prepared myself for my escape.
As the days got nearer I couldn’t sleep or eat any better and on the day itself I feigned being unwell to avoid going to an early church service, formatted my laptop and slipped my passport into my underwear. I waited in shivers for him to pick me up from home and we rode together to the second church service. I could hardly think as we drove there but I tried to look normal, a bit sick off course. The most amazing part of that day was when an elderly couple walked in (people I had never seen or met before) and asked for the pastor. My ex husband took them into the church office next door to have a conversation. This was exactly at the time I had to leave. At first I panicked because I wondered where he was and didn’t want to bump into him on my way out but time was running and so I just casually walked out of the hall, told an usher I was going to the toilet and never returned.
I remember walking out of the church premises shaking, got into the car waiting for me (my friends were angels) with my ticket and they dropped me off to the airport. I remember gasping for my breath in the car, praying, just not knowing what to do in the frenzy. When I walked into the airport I tried to look for a familiar face but she wasn’t there so I just walked through immigration with a half empty back pack, always looking back to see if anyone was following me. I knew him to be the master mind of ‘finding out’. As soon as I got into the duty -free shopping area I scurried to find a calling booth and called my friend all the way in India. She helped gather myself together, told me I was strong and cried because I had to do this on my own. I couldn’t cry because I was in some kind of shock. I was petrified and kept wondering if this man would suddenly show up at the airport and drag me back to hell. To make matters worse my flight was delayed which was when my heart started racing. This time I thought, I’m done for. But God was and still is amazing because I did get on that flight and I flew off to a safer place. I did it. It happened.
All those years of praying and crying and asking God when finally paid off. God, as I thought, came through for me. It felt as if he parted the seas for me, made a way and didn’t let my enemies chase me. Off course once my ex husband found out I was missing he started sending me awful texts, walked into the ladies bathroom, probably threw a tantrum and then went back home to find out that my passport was gone which meant so was I.
He attempted to go to the police and got help from his friends to find out details of where I flew of to. I knew he’d do all of that. But here’s what makes me smile, even with all the information he retrieved he couldn’t touch me. The police wouldn’t help him because I, an adult left of my own accord. He tried to call people he knew to find out where I could be but no one had answers. Eventually I knew I had to come forth to officially divorce him but I needed a little time to gather my support to be able to fight this man.
Can I say how lucky I was to get picked up by a non profit organisation that my friends got in touch with on my behalf, taken to a safe place to sleep the night and the very next day I had my lawyer in place, emails going out to authorities with a statement of my leaving and my neighbourhood police station informed in case of possible threat.
So here’s to God and amazing friends or rather angels who helped me beyond belief. Here’s to freedom, to the impossible and to a ‘life’ after abuse. This brings me to say if you are in an abusive marriage right now and want to leave, you should. There is nothing more important than getting yourself away from a dangerous situation. So gather your support, plan a safe exit, keep up appearance while you’re doing it and when the time is right just leave. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a penny in your pocket or if you can’t carry your clothes with you. At this point having your important documents is all that matters and the rest will work itself out somehow, someway. I remember how I was willing to choose poverty over abuse but for the amount of cruelty we suffer, we are paid back graciously. Have faith. Take the leap. You will be okay.
Memoirs of a survivor 