It was New Year’s Day when I decided to leave my husband. There is something significant about January 1st. It is a day filled with hope of new beginnings and fresh starts. It’s a time when we set resolutions, believing that our goals and dreams can become a reality.
On that day, I told my husband that I hadn’t seen my family for 1.5 years and they’d invited us to a post-Christmas celebration.
This would mean that our 5-year-old son would have to miss his martial art’s class. My husband was adamant about never allowing him to miss a class—he believed our son needed to be a ‘leader,’ an ‘achiever,’ and learn the value of ‘persistence’ and ‘accomplishment.’
“You can’t go,” my husband declared. “Our child will not miss his class.”
I tried to reason with him, explaining that it would be perfectly fine for our son to miss just one class. After all, he was only 5, and it was important for him to spend time with family.
“You don’t know what success looks like,” he shouted. “If everyone on the planet was like you, we would still be in the Stone Age. It is only because of visionaries like me that we have civilization, and our son will learn about success from someone who is successful – me!”
In my mind, I kept repeating, “Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries.” I was trying to stay calm and reassure myself. I had been reading books on how to handle verbal and emotional abuse and was doing my best to apply what I had learned.
“I won’t be spoken to like that,” I said firmly. “If you continue to insult me, I’ll have to end the conversation.” I felt a sense of pride that I had the courage to express a boundary, hoping it would ‘fix’ everything, just as the book told me it would.
He laughed at my attempt. “Is this part of your new progressive, liberal identity?” he mocked. “Is this what your therapist is telling you to do?”
“Fine,” he said. “He can miss the martial arts class and I will just explain to him that you don’t believe he can be good at martial arts.”
He left the room and went to our small child, saying: “Mummy doesn’t care about your martial arts. She doesn’t care if you are good or not and she doesn’t want to you to get better, so it’s up to you now.”
Looking at the pain on my son’s face and devastated that he would emotionally wound him to assert his control over me, I retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. I sat on the floor and I told myself, “Today is January 1st – a new year, and I refuse to deal with this s**t anymore. This is the day I reclaim my life, for myself and my son.”
By anonymous survivor
Featured image: New year, new life. Source: Kittiphan / Adobe Stock
