From Victim to Martyrdom

The child, the daughter in me loved him so deeply; he was the anchor, the pillar of our living. The woman in me hurts so deeply, how can this man I loved so deeply be the beast of a man to a woman of such love, my mother. The woman in me once asked her, why did you stay?

Mom : I loved him…I did it for you kids

Me: Was he like that all the time?

Mom: Is that all you remember of him?

Me: The little girl remembers the playful dad, who was there to cheer us on at all our swimming events, hockey games, public speaking events and track events, but I also remember the sounds of your crying and things falling or knocking over behind your closed door. The young adult remembers your broken arm, your swollen face and the maids, our helpers, who would leave pregnant . I also remember a helpless man when you had your stroke, a man who had lost his will, when you were ill. I remember a man who would not leave my bedside when I would have a seizure…I pause a little….How could he become that mom, yet he seemed to love us? How could he swear that no man could hurt his family, yet he did the hurting?

Mom: (Puts her knits down)..Don’t you ever talk about your father like that, he loved all of you, let his soul rest in peace

Me: (In my head – but did he love you? , he surely had a funny way of showing it) I’m sorry mom, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, I know he loved us.

Mom: You are now married with children, you’ll see…(she pauses a little)…as long as I am alive..no daughter of mine will go through the same thing I went through…Your husbands will answer to me..

Me: (I chuckle)..I know mom

This now is the woman I have grown to know. She has a lot of fight in her and would Move Mountains for her children even her dead husband. I grew up thinking she was weak and allowed herself to be broken, she was everything wrong to woman kind, yet all this time, the problem was not her, it was him, he was the broken one, he needed help. She became a martyr in her own marriage; she thought she could save him. The scars of the abuse still linger in her but no longer define the woman she is, the mother in her; perhaps, but definitely not the woman….If she had a chance of a do over, would she change her story? I wonder?

A lot of the times victims of violence change their labels from victim to martyr and if lucky to survivor.