Struggling to Stay Alive.. (Lost in the woods-2)

To read the previous part:Click Here 

By Maryam Abdullah

When I was 15, and almost 16 years old, my brother took note of my situation. He had met a young man and his family. He thought it would be best for me to live with them. The family took me in quickly. And I married this young man.

It was not long after, I lost all contact with all my family members. This family was not going to allow me to have contact with the outside world, and my own family, even when they knew where I was, did not attempt to check on me. I became used to regular beatings.

I sometimes wondered if God had forsaken me, or what I had done so awful to deserve the beatings. He would just go into rages that I did not understand. I became devout. I really tried to please my mother- and father-in-law, and my husband.

I was following the Christian religion. It was all I knew. I never worshiped Jesus as God… I always tried to make intellectual sense about that. But I read all the Christian materials about how to be a good Christian and a good wife. And I became a very traditional wife and tried to please my husband, and be obedient.

I was alone, but not entirely. I became close to my mother-in-law, who was fromJapan. She taught me her ways. She knew that God was in your heart. And I found God again. I started praying again. I rededicated myself to God, and I practiced surrendering to His will.

It was my only comfort. I was not loved by my husband. I had no friends. I was alone. But God (Allah) was with me. I knew it.

I grew closer to God in my own way via the only path that I knew. And I prayed a lot. Our business began to make good money. We had a home. Seven years had passed.

I was not loved by my husband. The beatings were getting worse. I was being knocked unconscious a lot. And I was alone. I prayed to God (Allah) for a son. I promised to dedicate my son to God. And my prayer was answered.

My husband rarely came home after that. When he was home, his rages were worse. He tried to kill his own son. I put my body over him, and prayed. I was beaten until I could not move, but my son was spared.

I was again in a very rural area, but this time, in a rural neighborhood. I had a second child. And again, my husband was very rarely home. When he came back for short periods of time, he behaved very erratically. I did not understand. I was not educated about methamphetamine, or psychosis. I did not understand what was happening.

He came back and left me with a child. He was only there for that one night. He was gone for over a year after that. I filed for divorce. This is the only way I could get help, and we needed welfare.

I did not know why, I was truly devout, why was God forsaking me now? I went to our local pastor; he had no answer that made sense at all. Christianity wasn't working.

I need something that made sense. I needed a real God. I looked through the Yellow Pages, jut looking. "There has to something out there," I thought to myself. Some church, something.

Then I saw the number to a mosque. I really didn't know what Islam was, or what a mosque was. But I called anyway. And I told the person who picked up the phone my situation.

And another woman came and visited me. And she brought me hijab and coverings, and she had me come and visit her in her home. She taught me to pray, and she gave me a Quran and a book called "The 99 names of Allah".

This woman, she told me the story of Hagar, the wife of Abraham. The woman who gave birth to Ismail. And how Allah led her to a well so that she could keep her child alive. She told me that Allah would provide for us. She seemed to know this in her heart. This story of Hagar went with me through the rest of my journey.

My whole purpose now, was to care for these babies, and I had nothing, nothing but Allah. Another woman came to visit me, and we talked, and she helped me pray again. This made sense to me. And the prayer gave me comfort. My third child was to be born in 9 months.

During that pregnancy, we had the hardest snow storm in 30 years. I got pneumonia. I slept with my two babies, with the third in my womb. All I could do was iron.

My neighbor brought us food, and her husband put in a wood stove and other neighbors gave us wood. And we prayed. I cried, I screamed, I prayed. My husband came back when my youngest was 3 months old.

He found out that I was praying to Allah. He was jealous of Allah. This was the beginning of the worst beating that I could have imagined I could receive. His jealously of Allah was insane. He knocked me unconscious. His rage was so violent, and his rage was daily.

I knew I would die if I did not get away from him. Finally, during an episode of his rage, he had me by the hair, but I got away as he held my hair in his hand, and I ran. I was bald now, and it hurt… but I was alive.

I made it out of the house with my 3 month old baby, but I could not get the other two. I went to a shelter. After 2 weeks of not being able to get my other two children, I had to go back. I could not leave my children in danger.

Then things got very bad for us. It ended after I was tortured in front of my children for 6 or more hours. He left me, and I believe that he thought I was dead. He had shoved a bunch of pills down my throat and smothered me with a pillow.

I woke up. Very disoriented, I could not move. I had babies. I could not walk. I thought I might be dying. I needed to stay alive for my babies. Now I understood. Now I wanted to live.

I needed to live. I needed to take care of my babies.

I managed to scoot across the floor with my arms… I pulled myself onto the bed. I prayed. I was afraid to fall asleep. He had shoved sleeping pills down my throat. I prayed and prayed and prayed to God to keep my babies safe and keep me alive and make me be able to walk again.

And slowly, I was up again. It took 2 days. My oldest was 3 years old. And he knew how to get cereal. And to be honest, my memory is still a blur. I think I got up and got bottles for my little one. But somehow, we made it.

Two weeks later, my husband came back. He came back to murder me. I had been praying fervently for those two weeks. And I had my son pray with me. We prayed to Allah.

And this time, my husband kept me locked up in the house. He would not let me near a phone, or the door. I somehow talked him into going to the store for him. I took my son. We prayed.

I let my neighbor know I needed to escape. When I got back, he cornered me and he was about to strike. But this time, I had Allah with me. I knew it.

It was strange, something happened…

To read the next part: Click Here