How is it when your home is not a safe place for you?

That’s the question has been in my head lately. I assume that it is must be so terrible.

Sometimes I heard on the news or a gossip about someone, a woman got hit by her husband. Whenever I heard that, I felt so angry. I was angry about how we, human, could treat others so badly like that. I was angry about why women always stayed silent, took all the bad things their husbands put on them. I was angry about the way others people around them couldn’t stop the abuse when it happened. Uh, I felt angry about the whole things. And one day I heard about men being bitten by their wives, I was totally surprised. After that, I knew that anyone would be the victim of family violence – If that’s the word for what I am writing about. I felt angry about that. Until now. Until I heard that it has happened to one of my beloved ones. I don’t know how to express my feeling! And now I see how useless I am when it really happens to somebody I know. I can’t stop it. I’m just sitting here, trying to write something. My friend is preparing for a legal solution. Still, she is in fear of what will be able happen to her while she’s preparing the process and  I fear for the safety of her, too.

I grew up, seeing some women came to my house, telling my parents about how their husbands hitting, kicking or punching them… I saw their  bruises. I felt a little of their fear, their broken hearts. I swore to myself that I would never let it happen to me or people I cared about, people who were close to me. Now I know I’m not a mighty one.