Sherry story - Conclusion

After I left the monster, Upjohn, I had some peace of mind; life was still hard, I was penniless and squatting with someone in a one bedroom apartment but no longer was beating any part of my life. I found myself laughing more and sometimes breaking into songs. I knew that I was happy. I couldn’t believe that I had lived with domestic violence for as long as I did. My life could have easily ended in the hands of Upjohn. I couldn’t think of why I stayed on, his whole family hated me and never thought I was good enough for him; they called me fat and ugly and cursed. I still stayed. There’s a mystery around domestic violence, the victims often believe that they are beaten out of love and leaving is never an option. They keep believing that the beatings would stop some day. Looking back now, I was really stupid to have stayed with Upjohn all these years, nonetheless, I was happy that I made it out alive. 

A few weeks down the line, as I was still trying to figure out the next step, my happiness was cut short, one fateful Saturday morning, my boy got really sick, he was finding it difficult to breathe and so he was rushed to a nearby hospital. A couple of tests were run on him and it was discovered that he was suffering from an acute respiratory illness. The tests were carried out without a deposit and so the hospital insisted on getting the full money before commencing treatment. I did not have a dime on me. I had no job, no business, and I had nobody; we were basically living on charity. My host was going through financial difficulties as well and didn’t have any money to lend me. I thought of Upjohn’s family, but that was not an option. My family was equally not an option; they would probably not even have the money. I hit the streets of Lagos to beg for money. By the time I returned to the hospital, my child was dead. My baby boy died just because of sixteen thousand naira. I failed him. I should have noticed this respiratory problem a long time ago, but I was busy presenting myself as a punching bag. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. It’s been over one year but I still mourn him. The death of my son shattered me, and nearly destroyed my life but I had to move on. I had my daughter to take care of. It is tough but I am doing it.

Recently, my daughter woke me up from sleep and said she couldn't see anything. At first I thought it was a joke then I took her to the hospital and it took over three hours before she could see again. Doctors said it was glaucoma. Another illness? Will I ever know peace?

Sometimes, I just feel like ending it all. I have another sick child who needs urgent medical attention and I cannot afford the bills. I am still squatting and barely getting surviving with my daughter, now this? The doctor says she may need surgery but first some tests need to be run. I am telling my story today because I am fed up. If anything happens to my daughter I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Life sometimes deals us blows which leave us dizzy for a long time. I failed my parents; my father still doesn’t say a word to me and my mother cannot do anything about it.  I failed my children, I failed my society, I failed myself and I failed my God.

I decided to share my story to seek help for myself and my little girl. and also encourage any woman in a bad marriage to flee! If he raises his hands on you, he will do it again and again and again. Please flee! Do not raise kids with a man who abuses you. No one can convince me that all the abuse I suffered even in pregnancies do not have anything to do with my children’s illnesses. I’m looking up to God to turn my life around. If you have read my story, please say a word of prayer for me.

The End

Please contact me via amakanwosisi@yahoo.com if you want to assist Sherry