Never Say Never

Oh, My God!!! How can this be happening?

Not again, dear Lord!

Why do the good die young???

I remember sitting morose, reading the highlights of the day, barely containing my shock. The sudden death of a celebrity was the current trend, with hundreds of comments pouring in across various media platforms.

I saw my fiancé clench his fists hard like he wanted to murder someone. His emotions were nothing compared to mine. I was livid, and the many ‘why’s’ with no answers seemed to overwhelm me. He could not believe that domestic abuse had claimed another life, especially one with a lot of potentials.

I thought long and hard about my life and how I couldn’t have been luckier to have found my haven. I had read horror stories of the physical abuse faced in relationships, but I could not relate – at least not from my romantic relationship. I could only empathize and renew my resolve to make a difference in the lives of abuse victims through a pet project I intended to start in no distant time.

Over the course of the weeks after her death, I had conversations with a few persons who reached out to exchange thoughts on the issue of abuse. A certain dialogue with Nancy still comes to my mind to this day.

“Babe, that is how it happened. My husband has been calling every day, begging. But the last time it happened, he swore to me that it will never happen again. I forgave, he did it again.”

As she said these words, I wondered what sort of man would hit his pregnant wife and tried to hide the disgust I felt at that moment.

“Hmmm, Nan, what do you want to do moving forward?” I asked.

There was a long pause at the other end of the line before she finally responded.

“I don’t know. He just never showed me this side when we were dating.”

I had no ready reply to that.

“Have you ever thought of what you would do if he ever raised his hands on you?” By “he”, she meant my fiancé.

While the question caught me off guard, I didn’t have to think before replying.

“He will never. I can stake my life on this. That’s how certain I am”

“Lola, are you sure? I mean sometimes…”

I did not let her finish before jumping to his defense. I wanted to assure her that there were stand-up guys who could never stoop to such low levels.

“Well, you don’t need to worry, I am a thousand percent sure. Kola feels the same way I do about stuff like this so there’s no doubt whatsoever in my mind”

“Then babe, I am genuinely happy for you that you will never have to deal with this. You are a lucky girl.”

I blushed at this point because I did feel lucky and the conversation moved on to other topics.

And so it was that nothing could have prepared me for the cruel burst of the fantasy bubble I was blissfully clung to. Lack of communication, blatant disrespect, broken promises, lack of remorse for hurtful actions, unanswered pleas for space, and an uncontrolled rage unlike ever before, all culminated at one moment, barely a few weeks after that conversation with Nancy.

In a second, it seemed that my world froze. His hands wrapped around my neck in a fit of rage, vigorously shaking me while screaming at me broke something. It felt surreal as my brain scrambled to accept the fact that this was happening.

For the first time in a very long time, he completely lost all my respect and became this person – this stranger who was a far cry from the person I had come to love. The one I swore would never lay his hands on me.

But Kolade did, and no planning in this world could have prepared me for that reality.

I relived that traumatic experience for a while, praying for some form of respite. On some days, the trauma came crashing down in full force like a paralyzing feeling of helplessness threatening to swallow me whole. On other days, it surfaced as flickers of terror that woke me up in the middle of the night. I would sit with my knees to my chest, hugging and rocking myself to sleep.

On the good days, it came with a numb feeling that saved me from the pain of having to deal with the new reality I was tossed into. Funny how life turns and the deepest scars that mar you come from the persons you trusted would protect your vulnerabilities!

If you were hoping for a happy ending for this story, this is not one of those. It is just a reminder that people change and no matter how much you love a person, there is no excuse for abuse. Love and fear should not co-exist together. Every action has a consequence and once your partner has crossed that (invisible red) line, it is hard to come back from it. More importantly, there is no guarantee that it will not be repeated.

I was ‘broke’, jobless, homeless, terrified, and alone in a strange land, but I found the strength to walk away two years ago.

You can too.

As farfetched as it seems, life will eventually make sense. You will find light in the midst of the darkness and meet people who will speed up your healing.

We have buried enough victims to last a lifetime. Don’t let the fear of starting over or the fear of the unknown keep you in a space where you no longer feel safe. Or add you to the list of people that we have to say RIP to.

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Love,

Diane.