Survived a Life That Tried to Break Me

Content Warning: This story discusses forced marriage, abuse, and psychological trauma.

I want to confess so that I can finally find peace.
I feel invisible. This feeling has haunted me since childhood. I have always felt like nothing, even though I grew up in a conservative family where they believed they were teaching me values and principles. In reality, being a girl meant oppression and control. What they called “discipline” was slowly destroying me from the inside.
This was the worst feeling I have ever experienced.
I wanted to escape my mother’s cruel hell by any means necessary. Yes, she was cruel and heartless. Her cruelty came from her fear of my father, but I understood this far too late. I never understood why she was so afraid or so excessively strict. I suffered in silence, blaming her because I never felt her affection.
The worst thing she did was marrying me off at a very young age. It was an injustice, an injustice to a teenage girl who knew nothing about marriage. I couldn’t refuse. I couldn’t even speak. My mother slapped me and threatened me until I accepted without saying a word.
Yes, I married a man much older than me , a man the same age as my father.
I could never love him. I could never be his wife. I was innocent, naïve, and unprepared, and he mocked me and treated me cruelly. I hate him deeply.

He never loved me ; he treated me like an object, like a toy he owned.
That was when I made the biggest mistake of my lifee : I cheated on him.
For the first time in my life, I felt the warmth of what I believed was real love .

For the first time, I felt like a woman. The man I cheated with loved me deeply, passionately, obsessively. He gave me everything I had been deprived of. But I couldn’t love him back.
I wasn’t seeking love , I was seeking revenge.
I wanted revenge on my husband, on my mother, on everyone who had crushed me.

I felt a surge of triumph, as if I had finally taken something back from the world that had stolen everything from me.
I wish I had never done it.
I regretted it deeply, and I have paid for it all my life. Yes, I felt remorse, but even now, after all these years, there is still a strange sense of victory inside me.

I don’t know why. My conscience torments me because I know I shouldn’t have done it, yet when I did, I immediately asked for a divorce. I could no longer bear to look at my husband’s repulsive face.
He abused me. He abandoned me without food. He left me alone with my suffering.
When I asked for a divorce, he increased my pain and refused. I nearly ended my life because of him—or maybe because of my mother who had abandoned me long before. I don’t know which hurt more.
What was my crime ?
Why didn’t she love me like my brothers ?
I was obedient. I prayed, I followed the rules.
Why was she so harsh with me?
I still don’t know.
When my mother learned that I wanted a divorce, her cruelty intensified. She rejected me completely .

She told the entire family to disown me if I divorced, and she made sure no one would help me. She closed every door in my face.
Psychologically, I was destroyed.
I returned to my miserable fate with that neglectful, rude, disgusting man. I returned broken, silent, obedient. I became severely ill and bedridden.

I nearly lost my mind. I began hallucinating, seeing people who weren’t there, hearing voices that didn’t exist.
I was on the edge of madness.
Until the day relief finally came, the day I decided to escape.
I fled to my aunt. She is harsh and distant, but she was still kinder than my mother. She told me that if I stayed, I would perish. She opened my eyes and guided me. With her help, we contacted my father, who was serving in the army.
He came and rescued me.
That is when my story truly began, worse than I could have imagined.
I lived with my father, and for a short time, my mental state improved. He cared for me. I felt safe. Loved. Protected. I believed I had escaped injustice.
Only days later, everything collapsed.
At four in the morning, I heard my door open. My father entered my room. He was drunk. I pretended to be asleep, frozen in fear. He approached slowly and lay down beside me.
My heart was pounding.
I kept telling myself:
“No. He won’t do this. He’s my father. He will stop.
He didn’t.
When I sensed the danger, I acted quickly. I pretended to cough and said I needed water. I took my shoes and phone and ran.
The street at dawn was merciless, but it was still kinder than my father.
I hid on a rooftop, shaking from cold and despair. I thought about ending everything. I had no home, no family, no protection.
That night, I didn’t end my life.
I ended my tragedy .
From that moment on, I chose strength. I chose survival. I worked, endured harassment, refused exploitation, and stood my ground. I made mistakes , but I refused to repeat them.
After many years of suffering, I divorced again, became independent, and built my own life. I faced endless obstacles, but I never gave up.
Today, I stand as a woman who was nearly destroyed, but never defeated.