The pain of choosing my battles.

The past few months a lot happened. Most importantly i did not give up. Many times i wanted to end my life… it all did not matter any more. I would think about my child, my parents and my friends… but sometimes i did not care enough. No. That would be wrong to say. I did care and thats why i did not go through with it. I have too much pain.

16yrs of being in an abusive relationship with a narc… someone whom i loved deeply, someone who ripped me off of all my self worth and confidence. Someone whom i loved but then got raped by… someone whom i had a child with but he never wanted to be a parent..until now.

Now. When I’m gathering myself together, trying to stand up on my own feet. Now he wants to be a father. And my child id thrilled. He is only 5yrs old and loves his fathers attention. But the Narc is not interested in parenting. He wants to take the child away from me.

I don’t know what to do. I do not communicate with him in any manner even though we stay in the same house. He takes the child away for the whole day without telling me, disrupts his eating and sleeping pattern. The child is shown that there are no rules, no right or wrongs when with the father but i, the mother always forces him to eat the veggies, sleep on time, study and no tv post afternoon… how does basic parenting become so difficult? How can he not see whats wrong or right for the child? And obviously for the kid I’m  the villain now. He wants to be with his father all the time and i need  to then lure him to spend little time with me.

And this hurts. This hurts most of all. Iv dealt with the abandonment, the hurt and the pain. But this hurts the most.

Are you honestly Depressed?

When you are in India, mental health is scoffed at. Especially if you are a girl. And more so when you complain of a marital issues.

Come on! You are not depressed!! Find a job? Why don’t you pick a hobby?? Better still, have a baby! I cannot tell you how many times i heard this. And guess what, i followed the advice too! I picked up a job, but the Narc would not have me being financially independent. I picked up several hobbies and got obsessed. And finally there was a time after he beat me up for cutting my hair, that i gathered enough courage to run back to my parents house. Now you would imagine the patriachal head- my father would put his foot down and pull the plug. No. I was sent back with the advice of having a baby. After all a baby changes lives…

Months became years and i was stuck in this roller coaster. No, the baby changes nothing. And in India it makes sure that you are forever more stuck in a abusive relationship. I know because i still am…

And finally the time came when i could not take it any more. You see, a marriage with a narc is a lie. Parenting with one is a bigger battle. I finally after years of acute migraines, extreme acidity, binge eating, binge starving gave in to a nervous breakdown. I could not move. I lay in bed and stared at the walls. I contemplated taking my own life. I even tried. I cried non stop till my eyes would swell up and i could not open them in the mornings. Now the mothers would understand why it all happened in the night. Because the child would be asleep. Mornings i would have a smile pasted on my face. I was the only stable factor in the child’s life and i was not going to take it away from him.

But then how long can a human being live such two lives. I finally visited a therapist. Now i hope you remember, in Indian patriarchal system, such issues are a joke and invalid if you have a child. My therapist although confirmed that i was living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) but advised me to turn a blind eye and to pick a hobby to make myself happy… after all a single mom cannot fight it out in our society.

Everyone made my child sound like the biggest mistake i made in my life. The made him sound like the albastross around my neck.

Women in India still have a long way to go when it comes to equality. A long way because no matter how qualified, learned or miserable you are, your worth is always measured by your husband.  Fathers are supposed to protect. To be the wall between the child and the world.

As my world came breaking down, i now must come to terms that my father too because of his conditioning ceases to see the damage that has occurred in my life.

if in the end the abuse does not kill me, i know patriarchy will.

Now ask me, if i am really depressed…

Do Not Ignore

Do you know the feeling of goosebumps on your arm the moment a loving memory comes to mind or an old favorite song plays on the radio? The body knows. The feelings are not just emotional. They are manifested physically as well. 

Now. Have you felt suddenly nauseous? Your head spinning. A sudden migraine? A sudden feeling of Fight or Flight? But why? nah…. i must have it wrong?? After all i feel these emotions when my boyfriend calls, texts or meets me. This must be the rush that all poets write of and the singers sing about… Maybe my head is not spinning but I’m giddy with happiness… i don’t know any better after all I’m only 18. And he is the first boy i kissed and the first man who made love to me.

My best friend was the one who pointed out the obvious. You are scared of him. Scared? Me? Why would i? Sure i don’t tell him i smoke- he would not like it; I don’t talk to any boy- my boyfriend gets mad…and then he screams at me; i don’t go out with my set of friends, only him- or else would get mad…

This was a cycle. A pattern far too well known to me now. But in my teens all this felt like love, as concern. After all wasn’t a jealousy a sign of love? We would fight and i would cry. Begging him to forgive me. Sometime i did not know for what… sometimes because i pissed him off so much that he yelled the choicest of obscenities at me. It was after my begging and groveling at his feet to not leave me would he reward me with a present.

Soon enough in a matter of years i was a bundle of nerves. I would have migraines that would last a week. I could no longer digest food. I would throw up every time i ate. I would cry unconsolably at the slightest of an argument. I no longer wanted to hear what my family and friends would say. You see my family did not even know… at that time and in a patriarchal system, a boyfriend was a taboo. I could not talk to my family, i did not agree to what my best friends said. This man had looked my in my eyes, held my hand to his heart and swore that he loved me.

And then one winters day he told me he got married.

Love Bombing: A Brief History in Time


I was fifteen years old. Was about to turn 16 in a matter few months. I met him at a family friends house. He was nine years older to me. This was 16 years ago.

It started off as a typical Mills & Boons Story. Whirlwind romance, promises of forever, sneaking out to meet each other and what not. Only that he married a girl a few years later who he said was an ex of his and that he was being pressured to get married to. Five years later he divorces his then wife because he claims to be in love with me and cannot fathom to live without me. And soon after he divorces his then wife, we elope. Well get married by law without telling anyone. By this time i was 23 yrs old. a week into the marriage he whacked me. he slapped me hard across my face that my jaw hurt. i literally saw stars. just like he had promised to show me…only i thought he was being poetic. A year from that we officially in the eyes of public get married.

Now this wasn’t the only red flag. The flags were up to be seen a few months into the dating period. They were many and they were in plain sight. But i was too in ‘love’. My friends saw, my sister did too… they tried to save me… but you see the game the Narc has mastered is the role of the broken bad boy that needs fixing and that you are the only one that can save him. At 16, this was right out of a novel id love to read, a high school romance. Only it never did end like those stories did. Neither did he ever wanted to be saved.

Invictus by W.E Henley

After many years of suffering abuse. I said enough. This poem made me believe i could.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.