It’s 8am. Friday. I plan to take my 6 year old to the beach. It’s school holiday. We will meet a friend at the beach. But he’s upset. I ask too many questions. I ask too many times. Why is he so angry? Why is he shouting!? Why does he want to come to the beach? It’s a simple question. He never comes. He never wants to do anything with us. My son and I. He’s always working. He never wants to go to the beach. Or go for a walk. He’s always angry.
When I ask, he explodes. Like a demon trapped inside. Or a monkey in the wild. Attacking. Opening everything. Breaking it all. Rage and destruction erupt. Total chaos. Panic. Stress. I’m in flight mode. He smashes his phone. And the kettle. Our conversation gets heated. He’s shouting at me and I’m shouting back. Maybe we both woke up in a mood. I’m not really sure.
I feel scared. Deeply scared. Trapped in my own house. Trapped here with him. As I’m writing this it is 12 October 2025. 2 days after the incident. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s anxious attachment. And I’m anxious avoidant. The fact that he can’t function without me drives me mad. But maybe that is just my perception. For him it’s constant nagging, reminding. Moaning. Never stopping with reminders of things, or un-finished work to be done. But women are different, we feel in-different.
- Why do I always have to remind him?
- Why can’t he just remember?
- Why doesn’t he notice?
- Why do I have to nag him to get it done?
It’s a constant vicious cycle.
But since this Friday I feel lost. Empty.
But I’d like to transmute this feeling.
I’d like to let go of the fear.
Transmute it into love. Protection. Understanding. Connection. Community.
We lived a dark night of the soul. On the most beautiful day in Cape Town. 3 days after the full moon.
He raged so much. He broke his phone, the kettle, the door to the bathroom. And he pushed me. It was a demon inside his mind, pushing away the first thing in sight. His enemy. Me. Perhaps. Natural instinct. I guess. My son was there. He witnessed it all. He “stopped” it. Just his presence stopped it. I slammed the bedroom door behind me and hid in the cupboard after escaping from the bathroom where he was smashing the door down with his fists. And that’s what snapped him out of it. I think. The sound perhaps, my son’s soft voice saying, daddy no stop, the moment, the realisation of what he was doing.
And then the silence.
And then the tears.
His tears.
Real tears.
Pouring down his face. Tears I have never seen before. Ever from his eyes. Perhaps only once when his father died, soft tears emerged. Before that, nothing like this.
Immediate shock to his system, even his voice sounds soft again. I hear sweeping. He’s cleaning up the mess. I hear him say, oh no and my son’s name. I’ve really messed up now. I am so sorry. It is not ok. I was very angry and what I did was not ok. He tells my son to come get me out the cupboard and that it is safe now.
Moments before, I hid in the cupboard. Holding my breath. I can’t breathe. Suddenly feelings stream back into my mind, just a child hiding in the cupboard. Almost like a memory that wasn’t even mine. Perhaps his.
I feel shattered.
Shocked.
Sadness rolls through me.
Tears stream down my face.
I’ve never felt so uncomfortable.
Displaced. Isolated. Traumatised.
Not since that day where I had to grab my sister from falling over. Trying to kill herself. I feel the heartburn in my heart. I know my heart chakra is blown. Someone so calm. So kind. So relaxed. To see him erupt like that got me shook. It’s not ok.
But I release it. I let go. I forgive but I will never forget this day. 10.10.2025, 8:30am. I + 1+9 =11 the number 11 relates to god’s wrath in biblical numerology. Which is ironic. Or coincidence. I’ll let you decide for yourself. “God” is just the masculine inside of all of us.
Maybe I pushed him. I complain too much about everything. I have to constantly nag and complain to get him to do anything. But now look what happened. I need to learn to be silent.
I cannot look him in the eyes. I’m still in fight mode. I’m shaking. I shout at him and tell him he pushed me. I say it before both of them that it’s not ok. My son agrees while he hugs me, tightly. We begin to calm down collectively. We move into the garden. Uncomfortable conversations emerge again. He automatically assumes I’m going to leave and take our child away from him.
My friend shows up. We leave for the rest of the day, while he cleans up his mess and thinks about what he’s done. And smokes his first cigarette in two months.
And many of you reading this will think. No I need to learn to have a voice. Speak my truth. Call him out. But the destruction in him is also in me. But because I am a women I have a softer demeanour. My energy is passive.
This was our dark night of the soul. As a “traditional” family.
How did we heal from this?
The acknowledgement, the accountability. The understanding of outside stressors. Financial pressure, basic survival mode stuff. Debt. Responsibilities. Past family trauma. His father that never expressed how he feels. Angry man energy, that also lives inside of me and is projected onto him. Generational trauma. Hurt. Avoidant mothers. Multiple women in and out his life. Controlling father. etc. I could go on forever. But it’s not an excuse. And if you are aware you will understand that it takes a “good’ man or an aware man to snap out of his rage. To see the conditioning. And rewrite the story.
So here we are. Here am I am. Writing a story to you dear sister. You are not alone. Your voice is heard. You can heal and remember. You can forgive and stay as long as accountability is given.
After the storm passed, we connected again. I sent my son to play at his friend. And we took the door he smashed outside in the garden. He apologised, again. We had some conversations and then he gave me the hammer. He said think if me when you smash it. I laughed and said no. But I will try. I released my anger and smashed a small hole under his. This door lives in our garage as a constant reminder of the rage and anger kept inside. In fact it was a some what safe space to release.
Maybe I got lucky. Many other women don’t. They don’t survive the rage of their partners. Stories of gender based violence echo in every community across South Africa. But it is not a national crisis. It is an international war on femininity. Men are not allowed to be soft. But they need to be in order to heal.
The truth is he started a business, and it unfortunately failed. He felt defeated by the system, emasculated. A common theme for men in 2026. As women rise and become equal, paycheques out rank those of their male counterpart. Some men cannot accept it, others feel rage at the fact that they can’t “provide” for their families. Something they are “born” to do. Apart from that we are not like our mothers or grandmothers. We make the men in our lives step in and be responsible for the housework and the childcare because it’s a 50/50 system. And it doesn’t work. It’s not working any better than the previous 100% and 0% system, where the women stays at home to look after the children. Looses herself. An possibly ends up divorced with nothing but entitled children to prove it.
It is a massive debate.
But this post is more about creating awareness around it.
For the women who decide to stay or leave. There is no judgement here. Just know that you are not alone. That there is a community here. And if you ever need to talk, release or let go. You know where to find me. Sometimes even just letting it out is the most healing thing you can do for yourself and your family. Which is why I have decided one year later to write this post and tell my story.
Men never learnt accountability. Not many father’s taught this. Society definitely does not teach men to be accountable. Wars and genocides are all fought by men. And as patriarchal systems begin to balance as the matriarch rises. And men and women switch roles. Just know this is not a war on men vs women. It is about balancing your divine masculine and divine feminine. So that if you choose to stay, you can learn to forgive, unlearn and rewrite your family story.
Because you are not a property of your father or a slave to your husband anymore. You are a human, with equal rights. You are free sister. Connect with the earth your mother and know your divine right to free will, to choose, to freedom and safety. You are divinely feminine with a spark so bright it can heal the whole world. And that is what they want to silence. the divione feminine in each and every individual.
If anything we need to learn to be soft. To balance our masculine. To quieten God’s wrath.