Breaking Free: 16 Years of Endurance

The end! For 16 years, he tormented me, and I endured…

But everything changed in the spring…

I could never have imagined that anything could shake the mire in which I had lived for a long 16 years.

I had long lost hope.

At 22, I married, convinced I had found the one, the only, with whom I would spend my life. Lena meant everything to me. She captivated me, pulling me in with some magical force. I was so blinded by her that even her quirks seemed charming.

For instance, her unsettling habit of flinging open the window in the dead of winter and yanking the duvet off me to wake me at dawn.

Or her favourite “joke” among friends, making me spin on the spot as if I were a model being critiqued before purchase.

She made decisions for me.

She chose where I would work.

Where we would go on holiday.

With which of my friends I could socialise, and who I should cut from my life.

And I let her do it.

Because I thought that was how it should be, that this was love.

I was blind.

I believed a child would change everything…
When our marriage began to crumble, I genuinely thought a child would save it.

I was mistaken.

Lena abandoned me in that fight.

She was indifferent to my fears, my worries, to the doctors telling us we had little chance.

She easily reconciled herself to the fact that she already had children from her first marriage, implying that perhaps we wouldn’t have any.

But for me, that was painful.

And for her, it was another opportunity to belittle me further.

She cast me as the one to blame for everything.

— You can’t give me a child!
— You can’t even cook; if I eat your food, I’ll soon have an ulcer!
— You’re no real man if you can’t handle something so trivial!

I felt worthless.

I tried to fight back. I searched for doctors, took tests, completed treatment courses.

But it was all in vain.

She broke me, and I tolerated it.
Over time, I surrendered.

I closed myself off, stopped communicating with others, distanced myself from everyone.

I became a shadow of my former self.

I no longer recognised that confident young man who once dreamed of family, happiness, and children.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw a pitiful person who was afraid to even speak out.

Whenever I tried to assert that I didn’t deserve constant humiliation, that I wanted respect, Lena laughed in my face:

— You? What are you even? You’re pathetic! You’re worse than a beggar off the street!

She knew I had nowhere to go.

She convinced everyone around me that I was worthless, weak, and useless.

And I began to believe it myself.

She told me that without her, I wouldn’t survive, that I had no chance of making it on my own.

And so I stayed.

But in March, everything turned upside down…
I had only one friend left – Sophie.

She had moved to work in Greece long ago but returned in spring; her husband had fallen seriously ill.

And then he passed away.

Sophie was left alone in her home. Her sons had long since moved abroad.

I began to visit her after work, sometimes staying the night.

At first, Lena didn’t like this, but soon she started causing scenes, and eventually, she resorted to threats.

— You’re not going there!
— I’ll drag you back by your hair!
— I’ll lock you up at home!
— I’ll file for divorce!

One evening, Sophie looked at me and said:

— God willing, she will file for divorce!

We exchanged glances, and suddenly I realised: here was my chance.

Sophie offered for me to stay with her when she returned to Greece.

If I didn’t have to pay rent, I could live off my salary.

I agreed.

I left. I chose myself.
Since then, I’ve been living in her flat.

I wake up in the morning, approach the window, look at our old house where I once lived with Lena, and quietly say:

— Good morning, Stan!

I look at my life and understand: I am free.

I am no longer afraid.

I’ve started smiling again.

I’ve learned to live once more.

I glance towards Lena’s house and mentally tell her:

“There is always a way out, love!”

I put on a clean shirt, step outside, and walk down the street, holding my head high.

Now, I cannot be broken.