Breaking Free

By the 17th of April 2020, just 3 weeks after the lockdown was announced in South Africa, more than 120 000 victims called the national helpline for abused women and children. Reading these statistics made me realise that I still had my local police station on speed dial.

It was about 6 years ago when I found myself in the middle of what became a really toxic relationship. I was a child of God, but oh, I was so broken. For most of my life, I endured the pain of mental and emotional abuse from my father. This led me to making many decisions out of brokenness. I didn’t know the extent of my hurt until I found myself in this relationship - unable to leave and when I made the decision to leave on multiple occasions, I would return in a matter of days or weeks.

After a few months of knowing this person and believing that I was so deeply in love that I would die without him, we had an argument and he threw a glass broken. I was so confused. I remembered the sound and the image of all the broken glasses, plates and mirrors from my childhood. It felt normal to me, and even though a little voice said “No, this is not normal”, I chose not to listen to it, because of what was normal to me. A few weeks later, that broken glass turned into a bite mark in my arm. Not just any bite mark, I had teeth marks and a scar on my arm for months. I remember the numbness that overcame my body, and then suddenly I felt the sting. I kept quiet. I lost my voice. I felt shattered. But I stayed.

It wasn’t much later that I got married to the very person who was hurting me. Security was what I wanted and needed and I thought I’d find this in marriage. By the time I got married, I had a broken thumb and some other scars along with some broken and torn clothing. This now became my new normal. The tension would begin, an argument would spark, my fear would rise and I would try and run to anywhere or anything where I felt safe - a toilet, a room, the yard. Once or twice I made it out safe, but there were times when all I wanted to do was die. About 3 months after I got married I had left and gone to a safe house. My mom took photos of the marks and bruises all over my body and I looked like a total wreck. I think bite marks were a hit in that year. About two weeks later after being promised that I would be looked after, I went back to my abuser. I really thought things were changing and then it began - the controlling, the manipulation, the abuse. One night I was kicked so hard, I couldn’t sit for a few days without flinching. There are just too many moments to recall, but what made me stay was the hope of things getting better and being promised things that never came true. I was also made to feel that it was my own fault that I got hurt. I was told that you don’t just get up and leave - you fix what is broken. So I stayed.

A year or so later, I got the news of my mother who had a sudden heart attack and passed away. She lived 47 beautiful years on this earth. It sank in when I saw her lifeless body laying in front of me. At the time I was pregnant so I couldn’t grieve the way I wanted to. The suicidal thought that entered only lasted a second because of the little life growing inside of me. A few months after my mother’s death I heard the ugliest things about my mother’s death by my abuser. On top of not really grieving, I dealt with the ugliest words being said about the person who I felt most safe with.

The abuse continued on and off for years. There were some really good times but most of the time I felt that I was in a cage of hell and I wanted to take my daughter and get out. I felt stuck. I had lost all of my friends, I became the weird abused girl who can’t leave her abuser, I couldn’t speak out in fear that the person on the other side would hear it more than anyone else. I started finding out about the women, the drugs, the lies and the closer I got to God, the stronger I became. I was pregnant with baby number two and I felt lost, I couldn’t understand God’s purpose for all of this. On the day I gave birth I showed up at the hospital alone. I was preparing to give birth on my own. I remember the moment that precious little baby entered this world - as she cried, I shed tears and suddenly a strength like no other came upon me. My recovery time in the hospital was miraculous. I was walking and doing things, I was making my own bed by day 3 after my cesarean. I got home to a mess and for the last time my abuser layed hands on me. I was done. My daughters will not grow up seeing their mother being abused and beaten, being broken down and made to feel like nothing. It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I had two reasons and later on, I became the reason.

The way God showed up after that was amazing. I experienced and encountered His Grace in so many forms, it was miracle after miracle. My life after that was not easy at all, but I was able to start finding myself and my true identity in Christ. I was able to walk in the freedom to which God has called me to. I was able to be a woman. My journey of healing was a rough one, but through counselling and lots and lots of prayer, I am able to stand victorious. I am able to pray for my abuser freely, because by His Grace I have been set free and I believe the same for all of those who harbour deep hurt within their hearts. I dealt with pain that led all the way back to my childhood, things I could only remember as I spoke through what had happened to me. God by the precious Holy Spirit truly made a way for me to be where I am today.

To every woman who feels stuck, know that there is a better tomorrow. You do not deserve to be broken down. Not mentally, emotionally, physically or financially.

You are a Daughter of the Most High God and He loves you. He chose you when He sent His Son Jesus Christ to die on the cross for you.

You are worthy of someone who will love and treat you like the princess you are.

You are worthy of things only fit for a princess. You are the daughter of a King.

By:- Teneale Williams