Richelle Ariyah2 months agoFor nearly 20 years, I’ve lived in constant fear due to my ex. Around the time I was pregnant with my second child, I started noticing signs of abuse toward my oldest. Prior to that, I missed the red flags aimed at me. The abuse has taken many forms: court battles, widespread smear campaigns, outlandish accusations, threats, invading my home, medical abuse, isolating me from friends, inconsistent child support, and even brainwashing my child. Physical and sexual abuse, neglect, and food-related issues, leading to eating disorders, followed. Even during times of calm, I stayed alert, expecting the next attack. I’ve spent years reading, learning how to handle manipulative people, practicing grey rock, understanding court procedures, and figuring out how to help my children, all while navigating legal issues with my oldest breaking the law. It’s been a silent, never-ending struggle. I’ve been isolated with only my parents truly understanding the situation. Recently, my now-adult oldest said they were “worried about me” for letting people “take advantage” of me. Their concern stemmed from my conflict-avoidant nature—my instinct to de-escalate and think before reacting. This approach, which I’ve honed over the years, has helped me and my kids survive. It’s hurtful that they see my cautiousness as a failure to defend them. I’ve always been afraid of not being enough as a mom or a woman. The past year or two have been a dark period of battling suicidal thoughts since both my kids distanced themselves from their father. The pain is deeper than I can express. At times, it feels like my own child has caused me more suffering than my ex. They’ve benefited from my coping mechanisms, but they’re angry because I didn’t react the way they thought I should. I’ve never felt safe in my own home. I don’t know what that would even feel like. It’s hard to change my instinctive way of handling situations, as it’s been my survival method for so long. I’m not sure what I’m looking for by sharing this. Maybe just to know that others are going through something similar. I feel so drained, and there are times I feel like quitting as a parent entirely. But I know that's not the right answer. The exhaustion has lasted for so long. Is there a chance I can rebuild my life one day? I won’t engage in further discussions if they involve criticism. I’ve already beat myself up enough. I’ve been in therapy for two decades, with my life largely revolving around helping my kids. I have every right to feel what I feel, even in private. Acknowledging the emotional toll my child has put me through has taken years of therapy. I hope my vulnerability can help others who might be facing similar situations. Sometimes, peeling back the layers of this experience means facing harsh criticism, but I’m willing to accept that. However, right now, I need to focus on moving forward. I can’t take any more rawness. 140
Richelle AriyahRichelle Ariyah