I was abused by my ex-husband for eight years.
Fear, despair, humility, I don't live like a human being.
I finally plucked up the courage to get a divorce. I thought I was relieved.
But in the end, I didn't even get custody of my child.
He left home with nothing, not even his own flesh and blood.
Later, I married a man from my second marriage who also had children.
I thought I could find someone to rely on and have a home.
But the reality is that food, rice, oil and salt are all contradictory. It is difficult to manage my stepsons and there is not enough money to spend.
We argue every day and every night, but our days are still a mess.
It turns out that divorce does not mean happiness.
It doesn't mean you will be treated well just because you are married for the second time.
But this time, I won't fall again.
I want to live, to become stronger, and to take back everything that belongs to me bit by bit.
