Walking Away

Walking Away

When she heard that I was profiling stories of elite women that have overcome abusive relationships on my blog, she had already written her story and was waiting for a platform to share it. for the past four weeks, I have had the privilege of hosting elite women on my blog to tell their stories of victory from abuse. As I edited this story, it personally spoke to me as a single woman. She articulately narrates the pressure that society mounts on single women.

At 27, the pressure to get married was hiking. My age mates and those much younger than me were slowly settling in marriages and here I was without a boyfriend. “If I had not wasted my university days, may be I would have found a serious man to marry, I would be settling by now like my age mates”, I thought to myself. I had dated this boy since I was a fresh girl till the end of the third year at university. Our relationship was just a big joke that wasted my 3 precious years and led to a terrible heart break.

I joined the university with partial excitement, I had missed my dream course but at least I was glad to be in university, I didn’t have a clear purpose for my life, and the devil was soon going to use this purposelessness to bring me down. I had studied from a single girls’ Christian school where Jesus was being preached day in and day out, I had gotten this relationship with Christ, but albeit not so strong a relationship. The bible would describe me as lukewarm, neither hot nor cold. Revelations 3:15-16, “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm- neither hot nor cold- I am about to spit you out of my mouth”.  Had I been pure cold, may be then I would have enjoyed the things that the world offers, (clubbing, dating rich married men, and “enjoying a life of the sort”), but poor me, I have missed out both on the worldly pleasures and the Godly blessings. Being lukewarm is not a place to be!

My first friend at the university was this beautiful, humble born again girl. From our interaction, I realised she had a boyfriend. From my former girls’ school, having a boyfriend was considered sinful; but here I was seeing this pretty girl with a boyfriend. “I would have a boyfriend and be like my friend”, I resolved. This wasn’t at all hard; I had 4 of my year mates pursuing me to be their girlfriend and 2 others off my campus. One of these pursuers went an extra mile, he was my friend, we attended the same class fellowship and he always came to my room to pick this other friend of mine (they were staying in the same hostel).

One day, he looked really perturbed; I had known him well to tell that he wasn’t fine. I asked him what the matter was to which he told me that he had just realised that his high school girlfriend (who went in a different university) had left him for another boy. I counselled him and told him that God would give him someone else, he had to let go, I didn’t know that by counselling him, I was scooping fire to my own laps. He soon started behaving funnily towards me. He inquired from my friend whether I had a boyfriend to which to the best of her knowledge, there was none. This gave him grounds to “launch his manifesto”.

One evening, they stormed my room with this friend of mine; the man in tears went on his knees, requesting me to be his girlfriend. He was sure he had ‘heard from God’ that I was the right one for him. I was confused and moved with compassion at the same time. I come from a tribe where kneeling is done only for God, seeing a man kneel for me was so strange. I told him I would pray about it and give him an answer. Every time I went to pray, I didn’t get any response from God. “How does God communicate?” I wondered. My friend, on the other hand, was also praying for us and she surely got no revelation. Just because I wanted to have a boyfriend, like my friend, I decided I would give it a try. The relationship was a huge joke. I felt absolutely nothing for this boy, I didn’t know how it felt to be in love. I thought I was abnormal, I can’t recall the number of times I tried to break off the relationship, every time I did, this boy would cry uncontrollably, and moved with compassion, I would reconsider my decision. Long story short, he soon ended the relationship but I felt bad  because I felt like I had wasted my three years.

By the fourth year, my friend was introducing her boyfriend to her mother; they would be wedding the following year. I attended her wedding; she was a beautiful bride on a beautiful rainy day. “If I had not wasted my years with that boy I would also be getting married soon”, the thought haunted me. I was at this time praying for a serious man to settle with. There is this particular one I was convinced was the one. He had all the qualities I would desire in a man; in addition, I had had several dreams about us together. I believed God still spoke in dreams since we see many examples in the bible that got to know God’s will through dreams (Joseph son of Israel, Joseph earthly father of Jesus, e.t.c). I prayed for him for two good years. No proposal came. I painfully gave up the struggle.

While the internal pressure was mounting, the external pressure from my own mom was also there. This is the person who never wanted me to go in a mixed secondary school for my high school, for fear of me interacting with boys, but here she was pestering me about marriage. “This God doesn’t seem to understand the pressures that I am dealing with, I will do things my own way”, I decided. I would date which ever man that was ready for marriage. The first one I got wanted me in bed before knowing my second name, he wouldn’t marry someone he hadn’t “tasted” and he would only be ready in 3 years. I let him go. There was this senior bachelor, I didn’t like him because he drunk alcohol. My sample size was only of worldly men. There was one Christian that was really interested in me but I honestly didn’t like him. Then soon, I landed my self in hell.

As I was busy searching for Mr.Right, I was also searching for a good business having recently read a book “poor dad rich dad” a book that clearly explains that it is hard to become rich through earning salary alone. In the quest for riches, the thought of starting a business at the university where I was teaching came in my mind. I thought of a photocopying machine that I was sure would make me money. The only way I would secure a place for my business was by seeing the estates director.  “Who sent you to me?” He asked I told him that no one has sent me. When I met him, he was with his wife heading home, he turned to her and said that he was sure it was God who had led me to him, he had all along admired me, and if he was to be a young man again, he would pursue me for himself until he marries me, but now that it was impossible, he was going to ensure that his own son marries me. I laughed hard, but at the same time, I was confused. Who in this era would get a wife for his son? I thought that this was a joke. He told me that he would do anything for me on condition that I accepted to marry his son that I hadn’t met. I told two of my colleagues, one told me to ignore the deal, and another one told me to play politics, “Who tells you that son doesn’t have a girl friend already?, Just play smart, get a place for your business”. I accepted the offer of the place, if his son appeared, I would know how to handle the situation.

One day, as I was chatting with this mature lady (relative) who had accommodated me before I got a place of my own, our conversation led to her asking me whether I had a boyfriend. I told her about this strikingly handsome man who seemed too eager for the bed. I told her of a senior bachelor that I didn’t like and then somehow told her of the conversation that I had with the estates’ director, wanting me for his son. But as far as I was concerned, I didn’t have a boyfriend at the moment. She counselled me that in a girls’ life there are times suitors are many and after some time, they all disappear, she advised it wouldn’t be good to put off all men just like that. She requested to meet this other guy who seemed so eager, but then she said she would also investigate on my behalf this director’s son. She thought it was better for me to go in a known family than date a stranger. The next time we met, she didn’t want to hear about my stranger stories.

She had done her research and was assured that this director’s son was a “good guy”. I told her that this whole thing was his father’s idea, whether good or bad, he had his own tastes and preferences, to which she intercepted that no man in his proper mind would refuse a girl like me. I was slowly settling for shit. My other mature workmate who knew this boy so well told me that he was a “good boy”. He had been like an older brother to her son while at Ntare School and he also taught in her husband’s school during his senior 6 vacations. She told me how the husband was fond of him because finding a student far away from home committed to church was uncommon. Was God finally answering my prayers as regards a marriage partner? We soon met with this guy that would be my husband. There were no butterflies, no chemistry, and no nothing. We both had studied from the same university, but we had never crossed each other’s paths. A little inquiry from his classmates told me that he wasn’t a bad boy. “I will settle with this man”, I told myself; that would bring to an end all these internal and external pressures. His father took the lead in preparing for the wedding.

“I am in love”, I told one of my close confidants. she discouraged me because the guy was a Seventh-day Adventist. I would not let this man go because of mere religion. My friend’s pleas fellow on deaf ears. I didn’t give a damn about what she thought; I just wanted to get married!

She wasn’t the only one that discouraged me, there was this female doctor who warned me that I was bound to be cheated on if I went ahead and married this guy. At the climax of it all, my friend gave me this movie “WHY DID I GET MARRIED”. In this movie, there was this particular lady who wasn’t loved at all by her husband. He would bring in girls in their matrimonial home, right under her nose. When she had had it all, she divorced the guy, the guy married his mistress and they later had issues. Luckily enough, this other unlovable woman got a loving man who married her and made her forget her former problems. My friend hoped by watching this movie, I would change my mind about this WORST decision, but I didn’t; Ooh I did change my mind a number of times, a month after our engagement, I was sure that I wanted to break off the engagement, I was convinced that my fiancée was marrying me to honour his father’s choice but not because he loved me, I let him know what I was planning,  he came and assured me that irrespective of the fact that his father saw me first, he had grown to love me. One week before the traditional kuhingira, there were all these ‘red flags’ (his dependence on his father to make all decisions, some funny family dynamics, e.t.c). I cried uncontrollably, I called this lady who had acted as our “go between”, I told her that I wanted to end “this whole thing”, and she was like, “don’t be stupid, how do you end the relationship when it is only one week to the wedding?” Then on my wedding day, I felt this strong urge not to say the vows, deep inside, I felt I was doing the wrong thing, I am generally the smiling type, but smiling was hard to come by that day. I thought of saying “No, I don’t”, instead of “Yes, I Do”, but then there were all these people from my village, and the thought of making the news headlines the following day, may be weeks or months and years (BRIDE DENOUNCES GROOM ON WEDDING DAY) crossed my mind, it would be weird, what would all these people think of me? Especially the ones from my village? I surely would be the talk of the village. Oh, how I wish I had done it that day. It would have saved me all the heartache I have had to endure all these years. The news would be in archives by now, and I would either be living happily single rather than endure the hell I have been through. I have had to share my teenage house maids as my co-wives and a bunch of many other nasty things that I would equate to what was taking place in Sodom and Gomorrah.

When I was supposed to be celebrating 8 years marriage anniversary, I was instead filing for divorce. Actually, for the 8 years of marriage, we had spent 6 years miles away from each other, and in those 6 years, my ex-husband used  “to change women like pants”. I had been more or less single, though married on paper. But what took me all this long to make the decision to quit? When I am well conversant with what Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 7: 15, “but if the unbeliever leaves, let him do so. A believing man or woman is not bound in such circumstances; God has called us to live in peace”, It took me longer because I didn’t want to suffer the shame that I thought accompanies being divorced, it is a social disgrace.  And also I kept hoping after hope that if I stayed maybe he would change and we build a home together. My friends who were concerned about my failing marriage gave me this Christian literature that would teach me how to become a Godly wife, but no amount of trying could change this guy.  Then after realizing that he was never going to change, I was advised to pretend and stay around until I snatch back the money that I had invested in the awful marriage. Like Lot’s wife, I kept looking back, I didn’t like what I was doing, but I told my self, if only I could get my money back, then I could quit for good. The final straw was when I read his Facebook and WhatsApp messages he shared with his mistress discussing our sex life, it was too much for me that I couldn’t take it anymore. If the divorce meant that I lose all the things I had invested, then be it, at least I would regain my esteem with time.

I would choose to live single for the rest of my life than be in the kind of marriage I have been through. It is surprising that I would end up with a man that treats me like crap as if I was the worst of the worst. There is a saying that “experience is the best teacher only for the fools”. I have been a fool, but you don’t have to go through what I have gone through to learn a lesson.

I am free and forgiven but the consequences of a wrong choice do remain; taking care of the children as a single mother and the constant worry of whether their father’s immorality will catch up with them when they become grown up men.

To the single girls and boys, my advice to you is not settling for less than what God has promised. Husbands are instructed to love their wives just as Christ loved the church. How did Christ love the church? To the point of death! Yes, that’s God’s standard, that this man should lay his life for you. If he’s not treating you right, with respect and love before he marries you, he’s not going to all of a sudden change after marriage. But the truth is that no man or woman can love the other like this unless they know the Lord, for God is love and is the only source of love. Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is [a]born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love. 1John 4:7. Religion or going to church and trying to be/do good doesn’t cut it but fully trusting in Christ’s finished work on the cross and having a relationship with Him. My husband too was and still is religious; goes to church on Saturday and even led a Bible study (what a joke!). So don’t be deceived by external things like this but rather look for a changed heart which will be manifested in character. A person who knows Christ has a changed life that is different from the ways of the world. Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.2 Corinthians 5:17, so anyone who claims to be in Christ yet stays the same, behaves the same etc is a liar. But a life that has been transformed is characterized by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Galatians 5:22.

someone said to me, “When you marry the right person, there is nothing like it! And when you marry the wrong person, there is nothing like it!” Another person said, “There are worse things in life than not being married, like marrying the wrong person.”


Side Note: Are you an overcomer of an abusive relationship and would like to share your story? Please share  to encourage those that are stuck in these toxic relationships. Get in touch with me at nyapru@gmail.com I would like to tell your story.


I have never healed

I have never healed

I met her at a meeting in Nairobi in 2015, she is bubbly, we stayed in touch through Facebook. When I called out to elite women to share their stories of victory against abuse, she inboxed me admitting that she was not sure whether she had really overcome, I told her to share anyway. She had written something about her experience but never had the guts to share it really and all I needed to do was to review.

Fresh at the university, I met James in March 2011 through my cousin Denis. I was a virgin that knew neither trust nor love.

My trust was leaning on the fact that Denis and I were close.  I held onto the old adage that “Show me your friends and I will tell you who you are” besides my physical eye, I could not see beyond the man that I was attracted to and that he was 29 and eight years my senior didn’t matter.

He visited me in Nakuru on a number of weekends but never ever suggested anything like sex or even romance. My trust increased. He told me that he wanted me to finish school and we would take the relationship to another level. He was simply perfect. We went out on a couple of dates- a few drinks here and there but never did we share a bed.

One day, during his visits he drunk a little too much and an argument ensued. He slapped me. He apologised profusely and even cried for forgiveness. I was in love so I forgave but I never forgot. I had started seeing skin deep. That was in August of the same year. In September, he slapped me again over a simple argument but still, I forgave him.

In December 2011, I went to my rural home in Kisii for my grandfather’s funeral. We agreed to meet because that was his home, where he lived in his house alone. We met at a local club and he had his few drinks before we departed. As we left the club, I was quite sober but he was tipsy. We got into the car and his driver was supposed to drop me home then drop him. He instructed the driver to take us to his house first then later I would be dropped. I tried to resist but his driver could only take his instruction.

We went.

The alarm in my mind went off when his driver left. He (James) locked the gate and all the doors and kept the key. From the time we arrived at about 7.30pm at 9.05pm, there was an uneasy silence. My phone didn’t have credit. We did not say a word to each other. (I will never forget this) at 9.06pm, I asked him to drop me home instead of us sitting quiet and staring in the air. For heaven’s sake, it was my grand father’s funeral.

I didn’t know that my question was fuel on flames. He gripped my head, pulled my hair and pressed my head to the floor. He stepped on my head thrice and hit me with a big stick. I have no idea where that stick came from.

I felt like I was bleeding from every part of my body. I cried and screamed but no one could hear me. It was the only house in the compound. He began to wipe my blood. At around 11 pm, he told me that it was time to sleep. He showed me the bedroom –  I slept on the bed and him on the floor. This time, he was not sorry.

I kept crying. After over two hours, he suddenly stood up from the mattress he was sleeping on. He came towards the bed, he tied my hands to the bed and he raped me. This is stamped in my memory. I will never forget this day. I pinched myself to see if I wasn’t having a bad dream that I could somehow wake up from.

Morning came, he forced me into the bathroom to clear any evidence from the rape then told me to leave his house. I took a cab to attend my grand father’s funeral. I was embarrassed. After the funeral, I stayed indoors. I don’t know where he is, I don’t really want to know.

To cover up my hurt, I started to attend the gender meetings at campus, the leaders would tell give us messages to take to victims, I never opened up because I didn’t want to be the girl that wears the scarlet letter on her forehead. I started hard and graduated. I am a working woman woman but my trust was robbed. That dark day is engrained in my memory.

This is the first time in 6 years speaking out about this ordeal. I have never healed – I have never talked to anyone about this. It kills me every day. But I have dedicated my time to helping others heal and along the way I hope I can find my own healing.

Back then I did not know anything or any legal action.  I would take but today am empowered and I encourage other women to not keep quiet about such issues But what is love again?


Coming out on the other side

Coming out on the other side

Photo Credit: BigStock

My friend texted me after she had read the “Happily Never After” story that I featured on this blog last week. She asked whether I was only writing about Ugandans that had overcome abusive relationships and I told her that if I got an opportunity to interview those outside Uganda, I would definitely take it on. She told me that she had written her story it was on her computer but she hand not shared it on any of her  platforms. Being the brilliant person she is, I knew that she would tell the story more than I ever could. Here is her story of overcoming from an abusive relationship.

Sometimes when you want something so badly, when you get it, you want to hold on to it forever. That was the case with me and what I thought then was my soul mate. In my second year at the university, 21-year-old me, in the process of exiting a relationship with one of those boys your mother says never to date, I met him. He was funny, broody at times, confident, and as far as looks go by, not bad. In my mind, he was a major upgrade from my soon to be ex. He was a friend’s friend; a team player and we soon became inseparable.

He told me he had slapped a girl once before when he was at varsity. He said that he really hadn’t meant to but she had pushed him and he apologized. I believed people could change and of course, I would never let that happen to me. I fell in love. I had found the one person I could be completely honest with.

Funny thing is that I didn’t see this as a warning coming from the horse’s mouth, I never heeded the warning, eyes wide open I found myself in a relationship with an abuser. It started with the comments meant to break down my confidence “what good will come out of that degree you are studying” I took it as a joke. “Look at her, that one can be very stupid sometimes” but I thought he was just teasing.

This extended to the flat out denial, when it suited him, that were not together. All these things said in front of close friends, and It didn’t occur to me that he was trying to publicly shame me. I did not think it was said in a way to hurt me-he loved me, surely we were just joking. Things escalated from emotional tormenting to physical abuse.

The first time I remember quite vividly. A few hours before my best friend’s birthday celebrations, I found myself pinned on my bed, rationalizing with a man who had just spat on me not to land the fist hovering over my eye he still needed to go to work and I had to make it to my friend’s birthday. This was over a cell phone I had dropped by mistake. That was the culmination of the violence and I realized the person I was with. The apology came with lines of I did not deserve to be treated like that, and I thought it would never happen again.

People ask you why you never left the first time? Why did you allow yourself to stay? It’s not like you were married or he owned the house you were staying in. For two and a half years. I had wanted it to work so badly because he got me – I was literally dangerously in love. Sometimes we have to let our guard down and be vulnerable with people, but we choose the wrong people. Every time I took him back, it meant I lost a little bit of myself.

Over two years, I negotiated situations and avoided triggers, I learnt to read this man to avoid the punches. I felt like it was my fault that on a night out he couldn’t find me so he choked me for leaving him at the club. This was on my birthday. He had missed my birthday dinner, then showed up drunk to the dancing afterwards. He found me waiting for him as he had called to say he was on his way. I remember the necklace I was wearing being ripped off my neck. When people pulled him away from me, I ran to the nearest cab and went home.

I fought back. I had taken him back after a long separation which included a move to a different country. In his reconciliation visit, a blow meant for me landed on my friend. I felt more rage that he had attacked her and went after him. Suffice to say, I came out worse. I fell and got kicked in the face. It took a couple of guys who I am forever grateful to intervene and pull him off me.

When my friend begged me to go to the police station, I did not report him but instead the police took me home. I was always making excuses to make sure he did not have to be held accountable.

My friend once said after I took him back, “We are going to bury you after he does something to you.” Now that was the literal rock bottom. I was 23 and I was devastated that the man I loved would not change. I thought that I could save him from his own issues. It took a long time for me to comprehend the fact I did not do anything to provoke him.

With time, prayer, friends, determination to become the first graduate in my family and saw me through. I am a believer in God and at my lowest he saved me.

Some will ask why did he not intervene in the middle of it all? How do you save someone who refuses to take your hand? We all need one friend that holds us accountable.

I had the opportunity to figure things out myself, something I never thought I would be able to do. I have not lived in the same country as my abuser in the last years so I could forget him. The thing with coming out alive is sometimes the elements come together and work in your favour where you never have to be in the same space or breathe the same air with a man who made you question your worth.

In the end, the biggest lesson I have learnt is that there is no type cast for who gets abused. A man or woman uncomfortable in their own skin will seek some form of power over another. For the man who abused me, he chose to vent his demons on me. I am able to share my story not seeking self-pity but to help who ever needs to hear it. Thankfully my pain made me strong and gave me the determination to rise against the odds.


Happily Never After

Happily Never After

 For some Ugandan women, the case of happily ever after is a tale that has remained in the story books and Telemundos. Violet watched as the man she fell in love with became a monster, hoping against hope that he would change. I listened intently as Violet narrated her story to me.

“Ours was love at first sight, he was the storybook tall, dark, and handsome or at least that is what I thought. It was two years after graduation.  Long story short, we got married. A few months later, I was pregnant. He was responsible and I had no doubt that he loved me.  When the child was born, I noticed that he started staying out late with his friends.  I brought up the issue and he instead brought his friends home every day of the week – they ate all the food in the house. This became an issue.

When I finally got a salaried job, he stopped buying food or anything for the house.

We were arguing one day I don’t remember about what when he slapped me, I slapped him back. He kicked me, pulled my hair and hit me with every object his hands could touch. He was like a rabid dog. I thought that it was a one off, but later, it became routine. In the morning, he would apologise and tell me that he did it because of the alcohol and that he would never do it again. I clung to every word that he said.

I was tired of neighbours’ peeking eyes that pried the nightly scuffles. I secured a salary loan from the bank, bought a piece of land and started to build a house. We moved into the house in an isolated place outside town.

I wanted to stay married because I didn’t want my friends and relatives to know that I was fighting with my man. For a few years, we had been the perfect couple.  When my boy was three, the fighting intensified. At 3:00 am, he would return home drunk, and chase all of us away from home – My kids, my maid and  we would spend the rest of the night in the bush.

I thought enough was enough. I called my father to mediate. My husband told my father to take me away with him. My father asked me to go back home with him. I refused. I was hoping that he (my husband) would change. He was a different person when he wasn’t drunk. It is like they were two people. I clung onto the good sober person that I had fallen in love with. I turned my eyes to church to pray for him. I prayed for peace for my in the family, I prayed for peace to grease my heart. The peace for my heart was an illusion. I dragged him to church, they prayed for him I didn’t see the results for months until he got saved. We savoured some peace.

Those few months when he ‘got saved’, I decided to have another child. I was six months pregnant when he started to drink again. He started beating me, he would strangle me, urinate on the bed, and sometimes even shit on the bed.  Yes, you heard right a grown man defecating on our marital bed. I would be expected to wash up the mess in the morning.  I cannot count the times he said that he hated me.

I thought that he would change. Often, I went to work with a black eye. At work, it was an open secret that I was being battered. Where was I supposed to go?  I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere not even at my parents’ home. I was scared of the gossip of the villagers. I was stuck. I decided to stay. I felt like no one would truly understand my predicament.

The day I gave birth to our second son, my husband didn’t show up at the hospital. He texted me saying that there was no food at home. He had been fired from his job because of alcohol.

One day, I was coming from fieldwork on a dirt path that leads to my home, I saw two people wiggling in the grass, I requested the company driver that was dropping me home to switch on the full headlights. The driver turned on the headlights. I quickly asked him to switch them back to normal, because I noticed that it was my husband on top of a woman – a village drunk. We all knew her in that village as that woman who got drunk every day. I was speechless but my mind was racing. That was the last straw. I got home, bade the company driver goodbye. My mind went blank. I sunk into the couch.  Checked on the kids. I paced. I couldn’t sleep. I was losing my head. About three hours later, he knocked at the door. I refused to open. I told him to sleep outside. He banged the door as if he would break it with his bare hands. I placed the kids and the maid in one room. There was silence- a calm like one before a storm. My mind was telling me that he would kill me. I tiptoed and unbolted the door and I run back locking myself in the room with the kids. A few minutes later, he fell inside the house when he came  back to bang the door with force.  He snarled and yelled, threatening to kill us if he lay his hands on us. This was the last straw.

When he fell asleep, I packed my stuff. I waiting for dawn and I left never to look back. Leaving everything behind, I had lost my job already. I had nothing left to fight for.  I had saved up some money, I started a business. I didn’t have time for a pity party. Driven by the determination to work hard for my children, I moved on.

When I left him,  I started to talk about the abuse. I didn’t care who listened to my story, I told it to everybody like a broken record. It is only when I started to speak out that I realised that silence was the key to the handcuffs. When I broke the silence that had held me captive, my friends started to counsel me, my family received me and accepted me. By God’s grace, I started to heal. I am still healing. It has been five years since I started the healing journey.

The consequences of his actions live with us. One of my boys the other day was diagnosed with severe anxiety and has had sleeping disorders since he was three.

At first, he (my ex) would call promising to send school fees for the kids, I would wait for the school fees in vain. I stopped waiting for him when I realised that his empty promises were one of the ways to keep himself relevant in our lives.

I have moved on since. My business is doing very well and I can take care of myself and my children. He is just a past chapter in my life.  I love my boys, I will work to the very last drop of my sweat to give them a good future. To the women that are stuck in abusive marriages, there will always be signs, leave the relationship when the signs begin because changing a grown up is hard.”


Side Note: Are you an overcomer of an abusive relationship and would like to share your story? Please share  to encourage those that are stuck in these toxic relationships. Get in touch with me at nyapru@gmail.com I would like to tell your story.