The Girl So Meek
I was born in a well-off family. My parents were always busy with work and did not have ample time to watch over me. I lived in a large joint family where the internal family terms were not good.
I was the youngest of my family. I was always directed to do things. There was nothing I could do on my own. After a few days, when it started becoming difficult to bind up the family issues, we shifted to another city, leaving behind the family and the business. My father had to start over with his business, and he faced a lot of struggles. That was a very tough time for all of us. We faced humiliation and lack of money, and on some days we went without food. We moved to a different place when things did not work out well.
As far back as I can remember, I have been a quiet, nervous kid. I wasn’t allowed to visit my relatives’ house. I was introduced to the family when I was 16 for the first time. When I went, I met my uncle, whom I did not recognize, as many years had gone by since I last met him. I made frequent visits to his house, as he showered me with chocolates and used to pay attention to my painting skills. I was quite innocent and wasn’t aware of his intentions, but things started getting uncomfortable with him.
Over time, he started to give me extended hugs and kisses on my forehead. As things continued, I told him I wasn’t comfortable with what he was doing. He didn’t listen and instead ramped things up and pushed me on the floor. I somehow escaped from him back and ran back to my apartment. I was so afraid to talk about it with anyone. Being unable to talk to anybody about what happened was making me feel really depressed.
A year and a half later, we moved away from the area, and by that time my father started another business and we were back to a stable life. But the memories of my uncle’s abuses started haunting me. I always thought about what might have happened if I had not been able to escape from there. I dug a deep hole inside me and decided not to share this incident with anyone.
A year later, I met my boyfriend, who entered my life with happiness and love. He gave me all the love and attention I had craved for years from my parents. After two years of our relationship, I decided to share my story with him. I’m a person who is scared of disappointing people, and of being disliked. The irony is, it’s hard to be well-liked when you’re too scared to talk to someone. And the one I was going to talk to was the person I would never want to disappoint. But I had to tell him.
Somehow, I gathered enough strength to speak up about all the abuses I faced in those two years. After listening to everything that had happened to me, he found the reason for my anxiety attacks. His love and support helped me get out of the hole I had dug for myself. He has proven that, come what may, he’ll always be there for me. A few days ago, I introduced him to my mum—and she likes him, as well.
My story was something I never thought of disclosing to anyone, but I encourage other victims of abuse to talk to someone, however bad it seems or however trapped you feel. Someone will be able to help you. You will see the change in you, and will grow more inspired and strong because of your past.
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