Her Secret Struggle

As Celeste logged on to the forum she frequented, her phone screen lit up. Her phone. The only device she had. It was meant to be used to keep tabs on her, but she hoped it was the key to her freedom. “Hey!” She wrote. “Hi, you’re back! You logged off so quickly last time!” A user replied. “Before technology, I had no way to communicate with the outside world. I am not about to have it taken away!” She replied back. “Oh, right! Your secret. Are you ever going to tell us the secret?” One user asked. “I’ve held it in for so long. Part of me is still scared she’ll find out.” She shared. A mother on the forum replied to the post, exclaiming “Sweetie, I don’t know who ‘she’ is, but the truth will set you free!” Celeste pondered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of telling online strangers her story. She, then, began to type. “OK. You want the truth?” Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it. She repositioned and once again, started typing. “Here it is!”

“My life was a prison from the day I was born and my mother was the warden. I dreamt of having a life full of happiness, love and freedom, but that dream was shattered before it even began. My mother, the person who was supposed to love and protect me, was a narcissistic and controlling abuser who made sure I never had a moment of peace. All throughout my early years, my mother made every decision for me, from the clothes I wore to the friends I had. She never allowed me to have any independence or make any decisions for myself. I was constantly belittled, criticized and made to feel small. My mother's abuse was both physical and emotional and it left me feeling powerless and alone. As I grew older, I began to realize that my mother's behavior wasn't normal and I longed to break free from her control. I daydreamed about finding love and having friends, but I knew that would never happen while my mother was in my life. I wanted to have power over my own life, but my mother did not allow it. Despite it all, I held onto a glimmer of hope that someday things would be different. One day, I told myself, I will find the strength to break free and start a new life. I will find love and have friends. One day, I will have power over my own life.” She hit send and paused, watching as a new reply appeared. “So did you? Did you break free?” A user questioned. “Not exactly. Not at that point, anyway.” She answered. “Go on…” Another forum user said, prompting Celeste to continue. 

“My mother's behavior became even more erratic and unpredictable over time. She would fly into rages at the slightest provocation and I never knew when her anger would turn physical. It was like living with a ticking time bomb. I tried to keep my head down and stay out of her way, but no matter what I did, it was never enough. My mother always found a reason to blame, criticize or tear me down. I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time, afraid to do anything that might set her off. If she was not attacking me in a rage, she was guilting me into doing what she wanted. ‘No’ was not allowed. Feelings were never valid. I began to question my own mind and dismiss my feelings, believing that she was always right and I was wrong. Deep down, I knew when she claimed she loved me that it was not love, but it didn’t stop me from feeling ashamed for doubting her lies. Slowly, I began to feel terrified that there was no way out, like I was destined to spend the rest of my life under my mother's thumb, but even in my darkest moments, I tried to hold onto that small bit of hope I had that things would get better. Maybe she would change or maybe I would meet someone who would help me escape. Maybe I would find the strength within myself to be brave and breakaway.” Celeste began to tear up as she reminisced. As the replies poured in, she continued to type.

“One day, in my early 20s, I mentally broke. I broke down under the weight of the depression and trauma of living in a cage with no human contact. A bedroom. I was living locked in a bedroom. I wanted to escape my life so badly that I psychologically broke from reality. I realized, in the hospital, just how toxic my mother truly was. I longed for freedom, to be able to make my own choices and live my own life. I recovered and returned home knowing that I had to try to get out or I would die never having lived…and try I did. I tried moving to a new city, getting a new job and even changing my name, but my mother always found me. She had a private investigator follow me, keeping tabs on my every move. For a while, I tried to run and keep fighting for my life and freedom, but I lived in constant fear and paranoia of her following me. I finally realized it was futile. I had no power. She had the control and as long as she was alive, I was bound by her and to her. The weight of it all was too much. My hopes and dreams were crushed and I realized that I would never have a life to call my own. I couldn't escape the control of my mother and I knew that I would always be in chains. I returned home, defeated and broken. My mother welcomed me back with glee and open arms. The rage I felt when she feigned innocence and then said she ‘forgives me for all I’ve done to her’ still lives inside of me. It will never leave.” The tears poured down Celeste’s face. “Oh my God, what a monster!” One user replied. “Poor you, sending you hugs!” Another said. “Is that all that happened? What about now? Are you still controlled?” Another user questioned. Celeste wiped her tears and carried on.

“As I settled back into my old life, I knew that things were never going to change. I was in a loop. I was back to being cut off from the world, living in a bedroom in my mother's house. My only solace were my books, where I could escape into another world and forget about my own. As the years went by, I watched as my mother grew older and more frail. She became increasingly dependent on me and I found myself slipping back into the role of obedient daughter. It was easier to go along with her demands than to fight back, easier to live in the cage that she had created for me. As I sat in my room, staring out the window at the world beyond, I couldn't help but wonder what might have been. Maybe in another life, I would have found love or made friends or had the power to control my own life. Maybe in another life, I wouldn't have been trapped in this never-ending nightmare. Maybe in another life, things would have been different and I would have been born into a loving and supportive family. I would have had the chance to pursue my dreams and live the life I have always wanted, but in this life, I was dealt the hand of being endlessly stuck with my hands tied. Trapped. Cut off from the world and everything that matters to the human experience and the ability to feel fulfilled. I continue to dream, though. I will never stop dreaming. I will forever dream of a life beyond the cage and even though it is just a dream, it is something to hold on to and the only light I have. Maybe, just maybe, someday, that dream will be a reality.” She closed her eyes and hit send. 

Celeste had never told her story. It felt cathartic. She logged off as the footsteps from her mother coming up the stairs echoed in the hallway and quickly hid her phone under her pillow. She pulled the blankets over her head and pretended to be asleep while her mom peeked in the bedroom. She would read the replies another day, but today, she could finally see. Maybe technology, this phone, which was yet another thing meant to keep her imprisoned, would be the key to her freedom after all. She smiled to herself as she drifted off to sleep dreaming of that truth, rather than her own.