I do not regret being a housewife. It was kind of my own choice. Well, I kind of became it out of some despair and frustration.

I did not manage to get pass my studies as a social worker, while I was really motivated to help out others and to have social job. First I did not pass because of a prank put on me and some teachers that did not like me and were not willing to give me a chance.

I ran. I went to college, knowing I might have wasted a year, but I did not know what to do. It did not interest me what I was studying, so I went back to social work. I started in another school that I did like, but my health broke down.

A disease weakened me and kept me in bed for months. It broke my spirit. At that time I was dating my husband for a year and I think the relationship started to become the only motivator in my life.

I started looking for a job, but did not find any. When I moved in with my husband, he kind of convinced me to become a housewife. Being socially worn out, I had lost all my ambition and my self-esteem was way below zero.

There were moments that I did want to work. I was kind of depending on my husband and he could turn violent from time to time. Since I was used to being hit, I kind of tolerated it and crawled back in my shell.

Always that I wanted to stand my ground and have an opinion of my own, I ended up in fights, with my mother or my husband. Both are quite dominant people and considered me such a drag I was asking to be hit, so I could call them monsters and play victim.

Fact is I hate being a victim and at a certain moment I had enough of my husband. He did not look at me anymore. We did not have an intimate life anymore. He traded me for a harem of dolls and I had to do with dildos.

I tried to accept this situation, but is made me mad in the end. When I complained, all I got were snares and hits.

Than I really wanted a job. I wanted to get away from a man that just repulsed me. He was not what I wanted. I loved him, but those feelings were over. They were dominated by fear.

The terror in my life became to much. He stopped hitting me, but grabbed my throat instead. He denies it, although the proof in the medical report states clearly the marks in my neck. Only the punch that caused me two stitches he cannot deny.

I cannot sit back and shut up anymore. I kept things down for a decade and endured his terror with fear for my own life.

He begged me not to make a monster of him. I think he is a sick person, a broken soul and that he locked me up and beat the hell out me whenever I wanted some independence might be due to his low self-esteem, but I do feel he made the monster of himself.

I still have nightmares. I also have a low self-esteem and I also been abused. But how come I do not start working my frustrations out by terrorizing new victims, like my abusers did?

It is easy to find excuses, but I long for freedom. I want to be on my own. For the moment I do not think I might actually tolerate living with somebody. Not because I might not want to, but just because I am still too stressed out.

So am I motivated to take any job I can handle? Yes, since I do like to do something for society. That is what I always wanted to do and what frustrated me on being a trapped housewife.

Do I look down on housewives? Not really, but they do have a fragile position in society and this is something we may not forget.

In the main time, while I am twisting my thumbs, hoping somebody would hire me, I just write down my story, since I do believe it helps getting it of my chest and I do hope it might give others courage too.