There is Life After Abuse

I believe that you create your own destiny simply by the choices you make. When you are young and impressionable, being inconceivably intelligent is sometimes shadowed by your physical appearance. As a child, being overweight and acne prone clouded my success as head prefect, head of the debating team and winner of both English and Afrikaans speech contests. On the flipside, it created a lonely world consumed by low self-esteem and a dire need for love and attention – a clear cut recipe to drive me straight into the arms of my first abuser.

I started dating at the age of fifteen. He was two years older than me and would always walk me home from school. At the end of the trip he would hug me and bite me hard on my shoulder. Even though I felt pain, the overpowering thrill of being in a relationship silenced me. We dated for a long time despite his random relationships with other women in between. The cycle continued even after I fell pregnant out of wedlock. My dad asked me to not marry him – unfortunately I thought I knew better. I tried to convince my dad that I will make it work and that he would change, not realising that I was choosing to be a ‘fixer’. I married him although my parents were devastated with my choice. As if not having a honeymoon was bad enough, the very next day he slapped me for crying as I missed my parents. My first weekend of marriage was spent alone as he chose to spend the weekend away from me, and that eventually became the pattern.

He consumed alcohol every weekend and would beat me up just for asking his whereabouts. I recall the heartache when I found mobile numbers of women in his pockets; women who would tell me that they were dating him. All this time I was unemployed and highly pregnant. When I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl, my dad had to take responsibility for our medical bills as my abuser had to fund his lifestyle and couldn’t fit us in. I took my two-week old baby and went to my parent’s home after being assaulted by him again. A few days later he apologised, and I found myself back in his home. I allowed the vicious cycle to continue!

Six months later I got a job, but the beating didn’t stop; this time with accusations of me having affairs with other men. Why did I stay? Why did I allow the abuse? Because this was the new norm for me. I had come to accept it.

As clear as day, I remember the him coming home drunk again and whilst hurling accusations at me, he locked the door and hit me with his belt. As the buckle struck my eye, I could not see through the blood that flowed down my face. Thankfully, I was saved by his dad who broke down the door to get to me. My parents were informed, and they rushed me off to a doctor who, along with the treatment, advised me to put an end to the abuse. Sadly, his advice also fell on deaf ears. No sooner than my wounds had healed, there I was…back in “our” home.

I moved on from my job at the local pharmacy to a clothing retail store as a shop assistant. My personal struggles aside, I excelled at work and not more than six months later I was promoted to assistant manager. I continued to encounter the embarrassment of other women visiting me at the store, either to laugh at me or make it known that he was dating them.

I can’t explain why four years later, I was pregnant with my second child. How did I fall pregnant? Why was I being intimate with an abuser? I felt I had no choice. When he would come home and force himself on me, I lost myself, my self-worth, my self-esteem, all of me.

Whilst highly pregnant at work one day, a woman with short red hair walked in and boldly confronted me. Introducing herself as his girlfriend she told me that he had met her parents during the weekend. Strangely enough during the conversation I kept thinking how he never allowed me to colour or cut my hair.

In August of that year, I gave birth to my baby boy. As soon my son was born, my abuser fetched me from the hospital, hurriedly dropped me at home and then left to celebrate with his friends. Furious, I packed my bags and left until two days later when he apologised, and I had a reason to move back.

A few months later a few of my friends were going to a concert and invited me to join them. I called him to get his permission, but he said that if I went, I should not return home. I could have sworn it was the turning point in my life, but I didn’t know that there was more in store for me in my later years. I went to the concert and then to my parents that night. The next morning, I fetched my children, never to return.

Whilst many of the restraining orders I had against him fell away because I did not go to court to follow through, I courageously started the divorce proceedings and even had him arrested when he showed up at my workplace. Initially he contested the divorce but later asked, via his attorney, to withdraw all charges in exchange for him agreeing to the divorce. I agreed just to set myself free. He was granted supervised visitation for only two hours a week but never showed up for most of it. As for the financial responsibility for his children, he never took an interest there either.

If someone did not know what I was going through, they would have never guessed. I dressed up, smiled and always showed up.

A few months later I met a wonderful guy who was soft spoken, caring, loving and accepting of my children. He gave me everything that I needed and took me home to meet his family, however I could not be with him. Like an addict I was craving the abuse. Maybe because I did not take the time to heal or fix myself? Instead, I went out clubbing and did everything that I was not allowed to do whilst I was married.

Amidst a store revamp meeting, I was annoyed by an unapologetic and arrogant late comer whom I brushed off later, when he tried speaking me. He started noticeably appearing wherever I was, even away from the workplace, and my interest in him started growing. I started feeling drawn towards him despite me still being with the nicest guy I knew. He was so persistent and continued to send me the loveliest flowers and scrumptious lunches. A work colleague warned me about him but I insisted that whatever his shortfalls were, I would change him. Me, being a ‘fixer’.

I broke up with my nice guy to date a second abuser. We would go clubbing together and he would become possessive and blame me for every guy that would look at me. His behaviour frightened me. Like any other victim of abuse, I felt that I was doing something wrong. He even accused me of having a relationship with a senior manager at the office. Naturally so, we got into an argument and he beat me. And just like it had always been, his apology won me over. A few months later when he asked me to marry him, I said yes even though my dad instinctively did not approve of him. As always, I thought I knew better.

I agreed to marry in his Muslim tradition and even change my name for him. On the night before the wedding we got into a huge fight and losing all hope, I overdosed. I was taken in for treatment and did not dare disclose my actions to anyone. I remember my wedding night celebrated by him and his family drunk in the hotel room. Once married, we stayed with his parents for a while and then moved in with my parents to live with my children. He beat me up at work once more which left blood pouring down my face again. I could not tell anyone what had really happened, and it still bothers me to have lied to my family about it. A year later I was pregnant with his child. Three months into my pregnancy, he resigned from his job which left me as the breadwinner. After having my baby, I was forced to return to work so that I could provide for us. He continued being an alcoholic which I dared not question, to avoid being beaten. If I had to go on a business trip, he would pack my bags to be certain of what I would be wearing when I was not with him. At one point, I had even told him that I had cheated on him, hoping that he would leave me – he did not. Instead there was more beating! As I quietly agreed to his every demand to avoid an argument or being embarrassed in public, I slowly started losing my individuality. I tried to focus on the good the rare occasions when we went on holidays or the times I received flowers at work after he had beat me. I managed to cope for six years and by then I had moved on to a new a career at another company. Yet again, I excelled. Through these wonderful achievements, my personal life remained a disaster. I became so accepting of it that I could even show up at with the biggest smile, motivated and drove my team to give off their best after just being beaten up at home. When I was promoted a few years later, we relocated to Johannesburg and he started his own business. Our luck seemed to have been changing until long hours turned into overnight business meetings. Out of my salary, I had to help pay his suppliers. It was only a matter of time before I learned of his drug and gambling habits which eventually cost us our homes in Durban and Johannesburg, the vehicles that we had, our home appliances, jewellery, mobile phones, cash and ultimately his source of income. He was unemployed for the next 8 years and it was then that I was truly grateful to have had a job! As strong as I wanted to be, I was slowly losing it, mentally and physically. All my suppressed emotions were coming to the surface and I realised that all the time I was supressing these feelings, I was only damaging myself.

One Sunday morning when he was about to hit me, I defended myself and punched him in the face. I became an emotional wreck. I later tried to commit suicide more than once and went back and forth to my parents several times. I forgot what it was to be real. I watched my children change. They lost their smiles. I thought that I was being a good mother by keeping a family not knowing that I was destroying my children. My sons grew up trying to protect me. My daughter had to clean me up after I was beaten. If I had known then what I know now, I would have chosen to be a single and happy parent, raising happy and fulfilled children.

The true turning point for me was when I spoke at a Woman’s shelter in December 2021. Whilst standing there, I told myself that I could not be a hypocrite. I called up my dad and told him that I was ready to quit the relationship. Having a good support structure is by far the most important and I was fortunate to have had my parents standing by my side through every struggle. I was awakened to the reality that they were living the trauma with me. In February 2022 after I had moved in permanently with my parents, my divorce was granted. I hosted my first talk on GBV in March 2022, sharing my own story to empower and uplift women. The cycle of abuse becomes an addiction. Just as nobody wants to be abused or stay in an abusive relationship, nobody will understand why we do it unless they have been through it. I really did try to leave, more than once!

At the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was on the verge of becoming unemployed and I knew instantly that I had to think on my feet to survive. With no funding and just the strength and independence that I had gained, I started my own home-based business, Aladia’s Kitchen. I cooked a meal with some chicken I had in my freezer and advertised it on the neighbourhood social media groups. Selling out on that day was my blessing and my ladder to more orders, more business and bigger menus, with each day funding the next. It took lots of hard work, dedication, commitment, passion, self-motivation and self-belief.

There was undoubtedly a gap in the market for authentic Durban flavour and had I not seized the opportunity at that very time, I would not be beaming with pride watching my business grow. In just two months I was able to move into my first business premises in Strubens Valley. I moved every appliance, pot, pan and spoon from my home to the business. To this day, we have no pots at home but it’s okay, we are building a brand. Our struggles are real. We are operating with home appliances, have no uniform and sometimes need to choose what to purchase. But we do not compromise on quality giving us the ability to sell out and not carry over.

I carried through my love for cooking and all that I did at home. I learnt to take chances and figure it out as we went along. If you do not ask – the answer is always no. For thirteen months I did all the cooking until I employed my first chef in March 2021. On the 13 January 2021 we branched out to Aladia’s Kitchen Fourways. There was no need for financial aid as the business paid for itself and created employment. Aladia’s Kitchen won Joburg’s Best Samoosa with the radio station 94.7 in September 2021. I received a Global award as an Entrepreneur of the year Finalist in Dubai and I was featured on ENCA for being part of a solution in creating employment at a time when people were losing jobs. My story was featured on many platforms and I am proud to share my journey and use it to inspire others.

I survived GBV in every form. I had hit rock bottom, but I used that as a spring to get myself up. I used my struggles as my strength to help anyone that needed me. Twenty-eight years later, I chose me. I choose to share my story and be a voice that will bring about change. My journey of healing is not easy, but it is so worth it. This time around I am working on me. I have some bad days, binge eat and get emotional, but I have more good days reading, colouring, finding affirmations that work for me and going to the gym. Rather go through the struggle of healing to find the real you instead of struggling to survive the abuse and stay alive. I realised that staying in contact with your abuser draws you back to him because it is what you can relate to. To heal you need to stop all contact.

An abuser will not change if you care more or love him more or give him more financially. You are not a fixer and cannot change anyone. You are not accountable for anyone but yourself. Do not be so reliant on a man that you feel forced to stay in an abusive relationship. Be independent so that you can walk away. When you see the signs – leave!

There is life after abuse. I have found my true purpose and you can too. Speak your truth. Do not fear being judged. It is not never your fault. I shared my story on Facebook, ‘Making her story”. I started a Campaign called ‘Each One Help One: This is my platform to reach out to help those around me with the focus being GBV. I am committed to sharing my story on various platforms to empower women and for abusers to know that it is not okay. My goal is to open a shelter for abused women, a place of healing and training to empower women so that they can step out ready to take on the world.

Start with what you have, where you are, right now.

A Woman with a Voice is By Definition a Strong Woman. Be that Woman.