Living in an Abusive Household: A Journey Through Darkness
My name is Sara Gill, and I come from Pakistan. I'm not a psychologist or a professional writer; I'm simply a person who found solace in putting pen to paper. Writing has become my way of releasing the pain that has been buried inside me for so long. I grew up in an abusive household, and this is my story.
My father was not the man he appeared to be outside our home. While others saw a successful and charming individual, we knew him as someone entirely different. He was an abusive man, both emotionally and physically. He cheated on my mother multiple times and would often lash out at her when she confronted him. His anger was a terrifying thing, a force that filled our home with fear and dread.
My mother, a woman of quiet strength, stayed with him despite everything. In Pakistan, societal norms and cultural expectations often dictate that a woman must stay with her husband, no matter the circumstances. Divorce is seen as a failure, and women are encouraged to endure for the sake of their families. My mother also feared the idea of us having a stepmother, believing that it would only add to our suffering. She chose to endure the torment, hoping to shield us from further pain.
I can't pinpoint the exact moment it all began, but for as long as I can remember, my parents were always fighting. The sound of my father's car pulling into the driveway would send shivers down my spine. My siblings and I would retreat to our rooms, hiding from the storm that was sure to follow. We learned to be silent, to not draw attention to ourselves. The walls of our home, once a place of safety, became a prison of fear and despair.
As the eldest child, I took on responsibilities far beyond my years. I became my mother's confidante, her shoulder to cry on, and her emotional support. Our bond grew strong, forged in the fires of our shared suffering. I admired her resilience, her ability to endure so much pain for our sake. She was, and still is, the strongest woman I know.
The trauma of my childhood left deep scars. It affected my studies and made me a target for bullies at school. I was a quiet child, withdrawn and wary of others. In an abusive household, children often become people-pleasers, hoping that if they can just be perfect, they can somehow fix their broken family. I was no different. I believed that if I were the perfect daughter, my parents might stop fighting. I thought that if I could make them happy, our family might become normal. But that never happened. Instead, I lost my childhood, my teenage years, and even my early twenties to the chaos and pain that enveloped our home.
There were times when I thought about running away, escaping the nightmare that was my life. But I couldn't leave my mother behind. She had sacrificed so much for us, and the thought of abandoning her felt like a betrayal. She could have left and built a new life, but she chose to stay and protect us. I'll share more about her incredible strength another time.
For now, I want to emphasize the importance of having good parents. A loving and supportive family can make all the difference in a child's life. It can shape their future, their career, and their relationships. If you're a parent, especially a father, know that your actions have a profound impact on your child's well-being. And if you see a daughter or anyone else suffering in an abusive situation, please reach out to help them. Your support can be a lifeline.
As for me, I'm still healing from the trauma of my past. I'm working through PTSD, depression, and ADHD, and I'm getting the help I need. I'm trying to build a new life, a better life, where happiness is not just a distant dream. I want to give my mother the peace and joy she deserves, the things she sacrificed for us. She deserves to be happy, and I want to be the one to make that happen.
