As I walked up a flight of stairs to the roof of an abandoned building, i felt my feet no longer able to carry the weight of my body or perhaps my thoughts. I opened the door to the roof and walked out to see a clear sky. The cool breeze felt like a soft touch against my cheeks, it swayed my hair back lifting my soul a little, but it was short lived. The trail of thoughts took over again. Everything seemed gray, even from this height. Soon I found myself sitting on the ledge of the wall, with my legs dangling in the air. I felt empty. I took a deep breath and looked at the world around me.
I could hear the people, some of them going to work that they loved, while some dragged themselves out of the bed to get to the place they loathed. Work, a place where I was humiliated, bullied. Where my creativity was questioned, my ideas were never appreciated. A place where people believed that being a woman meant I owed them something; the sexist environment at my work place suffocated my existence and my freedom to prosper. I had to get out of that place. I could see children going to school, their parents dropping them off with a goodbye kiss. Parents, I wonder what it’s like having one. I looked at my arm as I grazed my fingers through the scars that were given to me as a departing present from all the foster homes I was sent to since I was a child. It’s funny how people pretend to be these pious beings that won’t hurt you and promise to take care of you, only to reveal their true colors once they leave you alone with them. Even though they expected me to call them “mom” and “dad”, never once in my life I met someone who was actually worth those titles. They always found a way to make me feel as if I was an outsider, making me remember that I was not their actual child and I didn’t deserve all what they were giving me; which was honestly just food, two times a day. I could see couples outside coffee houses or park benches, their fingers intertwined, their cheeks blushing. “Til death do us part” are some words that actually work for some people, but in my case it was not true. My husband, a sweet man, vowed to be true to me in health or in sickness, then why isn’t he here next to me, telling me that everything’s going to be okay. A tear rolls down my cheek as I try to remember the past I shared with him, the memories of waking up next to him, with his arms around me, how we used to get coffee from the same cafes were I see couple holding each other, how we used to go for a walk and sit on the bench where now sat an elderly couple, we thought we’d grow old together just like them. But one unfortunate event in our life tore us apart; one miscarriage. It’s always easier to blame someone for the situation and move on with your life not realizing what the other person might be going through.
I look up at the sky, my vision blurry, by heart racing; I wanted answers. “Why me?” I whimpered. I never asked to be brought in this world, what did I do to deserve all this pain. I’ve been abused, lied to and scarred, both physically and emotionally. If everything in this world is predestined, then all what I had been through, was God’s plan too. Maybe me being here was part of the plan too, maybe what I feel, my thoughts, my emotion were planned out too. “This is how it was supposed to end” I thought to myself. I stood up, ready to embrace the future with open arms, I took a step forward. “Goodbye world”.
A lot of people find themselves at crossroads when it comes to making decision about staying in an abusive relationship or give up on their lives because a choice to seek help is not available. Pukaar is an organization that provides counseling related to relationship issues. The opportunity to talk to and share your issues with our amazing team of psychologists is available, don’t let go of it. Because living in pain is not a solution.
Written by: Izza Raza