Читать книгу Life with the black demon - Sandra Pasic - Страница 6

To write a story about one’s life is hard for everyone, I think. It is especially hard for someone who has had a kind of life or a portion of that life that they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy. Especially when you know that because of your truth and pain, you will immediately run into resistance, disapproval, misunderstanding, condemnation, gossip and everything else that comes with an unpleasant story. Nevertheless, I have decided to write a story about my life. For my own sake, for truth, God, and all those who were or will be in similar life situations. Let this be a lesson to everyone.

This is my story. Sad, painful, difficult, unpleasant, odd, truthful, but my own nonetheless.

I want to dedicate this book primarily to children who were or will be victims of domestic abuse, especially by their fathers, but also abused in general. I have to share my pain. Let everyone, and especially children of the world learn the lesson of this story. Let no one go through what I experienced and let no one feel the “bite of the black demon,” the bite of pain and suffering of life. Let this confession be a lesson for every child who has experienced and who is still experiencing the bites of their loved ones.

Such pain, such feeling, trust me, no human can endure. Yes, I know, my own family will criticise me, condemn me, because it is shameful to reveal such “stuff.” No one understands the kind of wounds I carry inside of me. No one knows what kind of life I’ve had. Life wasn’t easy for me. I didn’t have any support. My loved ones turned their backs on me. I grew up with no support or firm embrace which I craved my whole life. Understanding and support was what I lacked the most.

I look back at the past. Life, like a black demon, wasn’t easy for me. The burden I was carrying blocked my view and hearing… I couldn’t hear nor see anything around me, including the people or what was happening. Sometimes, when I thought about myself, I thought that if I opened up, I could overcome “the black demon.” I hoped I would have the support of my loved ones, or at least that they would feel sorry for me and my fate.

I fell, got up, knelt, fell again and got up again. It’s a fight. Even today. I’m still fighting. I live with my struggle; I go through this pain with a broken heart and a doleful look.

I ask myself: where is this strength and power coming from?

After everything, the story which has been told and shared, I can say that the misery which lay at the bottom of my heart has come to an end. I’m not ashamed anymore. What’s more, I am proud. I spoke out. Let no one be ashamed or have second thoughts about speaking openly and loudly about the pain which is concealed by shame, and barricaded by inhibition.

We should not keep quiet; we should not seal our mouths, barring them to speak up. We should speak. We should share our pain. There is always somebody in the world who will listen.

I waited and carried the pain that was killing me. I did not have the courage or strength to fight the “black demon.” I thought it was my end and that I was doomed to fail, to sacrifice myself.

That was all I thought about because I didn’t know there were professionals who could help me. Thank God, I found those people at a clinic in Germany. Doctors and experts helped me to finally open up and start my recovery. They advised me to let everything out. I listened to them and gathered my strength and started writing my life story. The very decision to start writing helped me immensely.

I got rid of the burden, got rid of the pain, the suffering, and now I walk with my head held high. I am not afraid. I am now a brave woman and a strong, respected mother and wife.

I want to say to all the victims of abuse: don’t be silent, don’t hide everything inside of you, don’t wait for a better tomorrow, open your mouths and raise your voices now.

No one deserves to be abused, to be punished by violence. Let everyone know that only the voice of justice and reason prevails. Like every other victim, I will too, after all,

be condemned by those who are silent and covered by “a blanket of shame”, but also by those who are not worthy of understanding.

Everyone deserves to live, love and be loved. Everyone wants me to think and pay attention to them, even though I’ve been doing just that all these years. Trust me when I say I can’t do that anymore, I have to think of myself from now on.

All these years I have never thought about myself, because if I had, this story would have seen the light of day a long time ago. I constantly thought about what everyone else would say. People talk even when everything is wonderful, let alone when they can enjoy someone else’s misery. My growing up means realising that humans are the only monsters in this world. There are exceptions, of course.

I never thought about this, but I realised that my father had the number 666 in his date of birth. The Bible says that the number 666 is the number of the “BEAST” or the antichrist or the devil.

I declare with certainty that my father bore a stamp with the name of the beast on it.

As I reached this part of my story, I realised that the title of my book “Life with the Black Demon” with three sixes always coincided with my life.

The black demon, in reality, is my depression, fear, pain, suffering, nightmare, sadness, despair and everything else I had experienced over the years.

And after the story is told, they condemn me. And now, just as before, they condemn me, make fun of me, say it’s not true, that I did it for the benefits, etc. I know it’s all true. And that’s why I will look in the distance with a smile on my face. I want to be content. Everyone deserves happiness, including me, with honour and with my head high. After everything I’ve been through, I want to sail the waves of life!

And no matter what, I am ready to forgive, embrace and to wish the guilty ones to rest in peace, because it is human to forgive. It won’t be my burden anymore...