Hello, my name is *** and I am an abuse survivor.
Imagine facing a room of strangers while delivering that line, the face of strangers unlocked the gates of confinement or apprehension to pour the heartbreaking truth.Talking about this topic is difficult. Documenting the events is more difficult and more painful.

Born in the 1970s in modern Singapore to chinese parents, a female child was not a blessing. Granted that wealthy Singapore is the envy of the surrounding impoverished nations, however that childbearing generation still harboured the traditions of chauvanism and subsvience. 3 days after birth, I was thrusted into the arms of my maternal grandmother while my parents embarked on a vacation to England. "Why worry about a daughter, afterall, she will be married off and will not carry the family name," said my grandmother's daughter.

Amidst the glitter of modern advancement, first class education, life in Singapore has one goal - to be one of the Joneses. How much wealth marks your elite social status, which Rolex should be displayed while haggling over a 10cent discrepency while grocery shopping. The Jones' child was enrolled in 3 extra-curricular activites, I had to take up 4, in addition to hours of chores at home. Mood swings heightened the chances of flesh meeting a garden hose, a rattan stick, the back of a hand, etc etc. Society did not intervene, because "abuse" was non-existent. Looking back, those years moulded my method of parenting. To parent, not patrol.

Fast forward to late ninetes, early 2000. A difference phase of life, parent and spouse in a different environment, yet abuse is tolerated, but this time in the form of spousal abuse. The person who one swore to "cherish and honour" began to "terrify and dishonour". My previous spouse was an abuser. I was in an abusive marriage. He had problems with responsibility, as well as an addiction to media games. Punches were thrown on my back as I ran cradling my 2 month old. I was told I deserved them because I showed more attention to my infant child than to an unemployed who was caught stealing games from his employer. The struggle to stay afloat became a mental challenge for me, as I was plagued with constant lies, deceit and discovery of mysterious bills and debts with nothing to show for. How did an unemployed attain more games and movies and gas in the car to roam all over the town? Each confrontation led to more punches and bruises, even in the presence of impressionable children. To maintain some normalcy, I paid debts, the bills were kept up and the false smiles were practised. More lies were tossed in all directions, eventually, enough to pay for a house. Life continues, still plagued with the normal deceit and scoundrel acts. More years of physical abuse continued with further intensity. 2 concussions and frightened cries from my children later, my strength to grew exponentially. The source of this accelerated growth emitted from the frightened eyes of my girls as they witnessed their mother choked against the wall then thrown to the floor, because of a minor flaw with breakfast. How can I tell my girls to walk tall if I cant do that myself. Who will care for them if the next punch is lethal? My ultimatum was simple: Leave quietly or leave in handcuffs. In his favour, the handcuffs were not called in.Life under this roof is more peaceful and less vulgar since his departure, according to the 8 year old tenant. My role as mother and future counselor will be invalid if I did not take a stand. For I cannot preach anything I did not practise.

The hardest part of living with abuse is telling it. After a while, the mental strength collapses, what is obviously wrong becomes reality. Lies fall behind a frosted shield disguised as the truth. I was wrong to care for my children, to put them first in priority. The blame falls on my shoulders for the debts from his credit cards used to purchase his games and movies. As with any oppression, one day the locals will rise from the dust. Too many punches, kicks and bruises triggered the smart chip. "You are smarter than this" message slowly but surely circulates in the cranium. Maximum integration of mental and emotional strength, the coalition of the entire system erupts, seeking the end to this nightmare. The human spirit is stubborn. Very stubborn, enough to break chains. Stubborn enough to break out of the cycle. Stubborn enough to say, "NO MORE! Leave quietly or leave in handcuffs! My children will not see their mother choked up against a wall and slammed onto the floor anymore!" Stubborn enough to stand tall when I am called names while I said "No more."

The hardest part was calling for help.
I dialed the number and asked for help. It was difficult. Then you hang up the phone and put on a brave face like nothing has happened, because the smart chip has been activated.