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I'm a teen domestic abuse survivor at the hands of my father. He is violent to both my mother and me, and I don't feel safe at home.
I’m a teen domestic abuse survivor at the hands of my father. He is violent to both my mother and me, and I don’t feel safe at home.
Trigger warning Domestic abuse, mental torture, mental illness and suicidal tendencies, and may be triggering to survivors.
I’m going to share something that has been happening to me for a long time. I’m not safe at home. Publishing this on social media is going to make my existence even more troubled and unsafe. But I’m taking up the courage to call out my abuser.
I’ve been a victim of domestic violence since last year. The culprit is none other than my biological father. I’ve had to seek psychiatric care. I’d been diagnosed with PTSD with a combination of depression and anxiety when I first saw my doctor.
My grades hit an all-time low. But since my mom found a good doctor and made me undergo treatment by selling her jewelry, I managed to pass my 12th boards. Now he’s mentally torturing me by going around telling people that my grades are poor and that I didn’t pass my entrances because I am not a good student. My dear teachers and classmates would know what is true and what is not in this regard.
When my mother tried to tell him about mental health, he replied by saying that she’s the one who sent me into depression and that if I kill myself he’ll kill her before she can reveal anything.
The first time when I went to the doctor was when I was slapped and kicked and beaten up, when I tried to protect my mother from the same. Those who are close to me know that I’m very religious compared to others belonging to my generation. He tried to throw away the religious idols and pictures which I had so lovingly established in a small altar in my room, straight into the waste bin. He toppled the altar over and broke it.
All this happened before the eyes of my biological paternal grandparents. They didn’t try to stop him, rather they seemed to enjoy our plight.
I was scared and scarred. I wanted to get established financially ASAP so that I could move out with my mother. I sacrificed my lifelong dream of pursuing medicine to join hotel management which would ensure what I needed. It was on counseling by my well-wishers that I could get back to studying for medical school.
On the night after Cyclone Amphan, again I was attacked over simple things like me wanting to sleep in a different room from the usual during the cyclone caused power cut, and for complaining about how there was no water supply and I wasn’t feeling well because of periods.
He hit me again. After that I just stated that I don’t feel safe here. It was then that he tried to choke me in the dark. I somehow managed to set myself free.
My mother may have accepted all these because we’re financially dependent on him. He boasts of having connections with police officers and politicians and even goons and hitmen, by which his underlying message is that nobody can do anything to him.
I’m falling apart. I’ve tried and tried and tried to focus on my studies only by forgiving and forgetting. But I just can’t seem to accept these incidents. Nobody is going to save us. I’m probably putting us in more danger. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But if anything ever happens to me or my mom, at least the world will know who’s to blame.
Image source: by Sofia Garza on Pexels
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