I woke up early to prepare breakfast for my son. It was still 5:30 in the morning. My son had to go to school at 6:00 in the morning because our house was some distance from his school. He was in the 3rd Grade and he would commute to school taking two jeepney rides. His father had a car but he would not volunteer to bring his son to school.
My son got used to this daily routine. Sometimes, I would just cry in the early evenings when my son was still not home. I would just pray and pray that he would be led safely home by God. At one time, it was already nine o’clock in the evening and my 3rd Grade son was still not home. I called the school to check if my son was still somewhere around. The security guard just told me that no one was in school. The gates were closed. God must have seen me cry and God must have heard my son’s prayers. He came home safe at past nine o’clock in the evening. He had a difficult time getting a jeepney home and he slept at the second jeepney-ride home. God is a great God.
That morning after my son left, I was going to take care of my three children. But I was not lucky that day. I was trapped in the room and I was beaten from morning until almost seven in the evening. Yes, I was physically beaten the whole day. God is a great God. He gave me the strength to take all those beatings on my head, my body, my legs, my arms, and even my face. I begged to God in the silence of my heart that the beatings would stop.
God must have heard my prayer. At around seven o’clock, I stopped feeling the pain. I lost consciousness.
Afraid perhaps that I must be dead, the room where I was beaten was opened. My siblings rushed to the room to get me. They had to drag me down, they said. They brought me to the nearest hospital. My siblings said that the Doctors knew what happened to me just by looking at my body.
I regained my consciousness and the Doctors asked me what happened. I just cried and kept quiet. How could I speak up?
I was a battered wife.
Sadly, battered women would just choose to keep quiet. We have reasons. We are not afraid for ourselves. We have the right reasons to keep fighting and to be stronger. We prepare ourselves for the next beating until such time that the reason for our tears are realized.
That day, I just cried silently at the hospital. My pillow was wet with tears. I would not talk. I kept my pain to myself. I had the reason to fight. I stood up for the choice I made. I may have fallen but I found the right reasons. I love my children and they are the best reasons of my life.