Alone in the world

Marital violence is, to my point of view, one of the worst thing to live through for

The person, usually a woman, who is the victim of it.

So, in this text, I will address myself to women, especially to my deceased mother,

A woman beaten for about twenty years or so, I do not remember,

The first time was too much anyway.

Some images come frequently to my mind,

Coming out of my heart like unbearable vomit.

I remember my mother crying for hours, for entire days.

I see her doubled up with pain and begging my father to stop beating her.

Those images I saw as a child of four or five years of age, made me

A person different from others.

 I was not like other children, not at all.  And neither were my three sisters and

My two brothers.

I see myself playing in the streets or in the alleys of Montreal

As a child with a broken heart.  I could play with my friends but my

Heart was always at home, with my mother who cried

Every morning when I left for school.  Very often, I would refuse to go away

Because my father was not home yet from work.

When he was not in at suppertime, we were scared my sisters, my brothers and me.

We knew then that he was drinking and we kept looking at our worried mother.

She would hurry up to give us our baths and she would tell us:

 Please be good when he comes back.

Without reasons, my father could break everything in the house and

Still without reasons, he could be the gentlest person,

Even drunk.

Then my mother would do her best to keep him this way.

Sometimes, we would go to bed happy.  A short lived happiness, when my

Father did not give us a hard time, and those moments were rare

And far apart.

We were six children sharing a bedroom of height by ten feet,

Six of us in two beds and the only clothes we had were giving to us

By the Sisters of the congregation of St-Nom-de-Jésus-Marie.

I remember the nights, when hiding behind the door or under one of the beds,

I heard my father hitting and swearing at our mother till our cries

And tears would make him stop

It was horrible for me and my siblings

Today, when I think about that, I tremble and I fell disgusted.

Life is not easy.

Never easy and all of us carry wounds in our hearts that will never heal.

Often, these wounds are hidden deeply, but when they come to the surface,

They hurt as they did then.

Each time that I see marital violence on tv, the web or somewhere else,

It all comes back.

Sometimes my memories are so painful that I want to scream,

For no apparent reason.

I am lost in my souvenirs and I still wonder

The Why, like I did as a child.

Those marks were left on my soul.  My  “ME” was broken when I was

Very young and I do not think I will ever be healed from that.

I do not think my marriage is worst than others, we had our

Hard times my wife and I, but we got through them, without violence

Because I will never condone any kind of violence done to women.

We gave our children, a son and a daughter, a good education and

Sylvie and I are proud of them.

I will end this brief story of part of my life with a warm thought for

All those women victim of marital violence.

These women often feel alone in the world, caught in the solitude

Of these tragedies.  Talk about it!!!

Do not hide this pain in you heart, talk about it to your friends and your relatives….

Do not hide your bruises and your sorrow, let your true self come out.

In every beaten mother or woman, there is a treasure hidden by God,

A trunk full of kindness and sensibility.

 No matter what happens, there is the capacity to love her children unconditionally.

The beauty of a woman is not seen through her clothes, her jewels, nor

Through her hairstyle or the make-up she wears.

But it is through her eyes, I think.

The eyes, the door of the heart…. Where we see the reflection of the soul,

And where all beauty is.

It is through this door that the tears leave

 Their traces in the form of sorrow.

Through there also that happiness leaves wrinkles of love.

It is through the eyes that you can see the burden shouldered

By a woman who is the victim of marital violence.

Ladies never let anybody denigrate you, you are all

Marvels of life.  Do not stop in front of a lying mirror.

Do not listen to its lies because beauty and youth are in your eyes,

In your glance and in your heart.

Life is worth living without a violent partner who will break your “hopes”

And your children’s “hopes”.

Leave.  Get away from restrains and heartaches.  Ask for help and you

Will never be alone in the world like my mother was.

True friends will come to you when others leave.

Take charge of your life and of the lives of your children.

You have earned the right to be happy because

You are a marvellous person.

            André Julien

2002