Trapped and lonely

My name is Sunita.* I come from a poor family. I have no parents. Loneliness is indeed a living term I got acquainted to at a very young age. I was somehow far from imagining how my life would take an even more bitter turn on the day I got wed to Sandheep.*

I have indeed been feeling very alone all the way through, ever since we got married. Let me share my nightmare.  

My husband never told me the truth about his addiction. It is only when the situation got out of control, after he ran out of money, that this bombshell took me in complete surprise and the agony began.   Many things started to make sense as the blur of trust faded away. I could now make sense of what was happening around me. I could understand how and why our belongings would dwindle every now and then.  

From then on, I gathered all my strength. I understood that I had to be strong for my two children. His need for drugs increased from day to day as and consumed our love, life and finance amongst others.  

God knows how I tried everything I could possibly think of to help him out. First I sent him to the psychiatric hospital and where he attended the inpatient rehabilitation programme. Then he started an outpatient treatment with the hospital. However, as soon as he is out, the first thing he goes looking for is drugs.  

Whenever the situation runs out of control, he becomes violent. In these cases, I have no other choice than to leave the house and run away with my children. Not later than yesterday, my son came to my rescue while I was getting beaten. He seized a harpoon and tried to harm him. Fortunately, although it did pierce his T-Shirt, he was not hurt. He could have been badly injured. He could have died.  

How can I leave this man when I have no other place to go?   I managed to build us a small shelter made of iron sheet, on my own, and I cannot leave this place.  

Fortunately, I was able to get a job at a woman’s place where I take care of the household chores. But who do you think would leave her house in the hands of someone who is sharing her life with a drug addict, who on top of that contracted HIV/AIDS? Here is my secret.  

All I want is this big weight lifted off my shoulders but I have no other choice than to be patient as I hope for a better day to dawn soon.

*Not their real names. Davinah Sholay writes from Mauritius. This story is part of the “IÀ Stories series produced by the GL Opinion and Commentary Service for the Sixteen Days of Activism on Gender Violence.