The moment I knew I had to leave my marital home came roughly one year ago. I had discovered a web of lies and deceit that I knew I could never bring myself to live with. I always considered myself a strong and sensible adult who had her life (and even death) plan mapped out. I therefore could not believe I had chosen someone who was so chaotic to share it with. The child in me refused to believe that I had chosen the wrong Ken. So what followed were a series of tantrums, melt downs, aggressive outbursts and self-harm.
Another lie. After repeated promises never to lie again. There were no tantrums, melt downs or aggressive outbursts. The child had lost.
Packing was easier then I thought. As it turns out I only require 1/10th of what I actually store in my 3 bedroom house to keep me going for an indefinite period. It’s funny how filling your home with things you will wear and use on 0 days gives you comfort for 365 days a year. Then there are things you both commonly use – the electric toothbrush stand. It was a Christmas gift I bought him which he once told me changed his life. I won’t list the profound changes I made to his life and what he should be grateful for. The listing of the ‘things I have done for you!’ has only lead to resentment. The adult in me did them because it was a selfless kind of love I had for him. The child in me wanted everyone to know that it was I who had put him in the perfect outfit, and it was I who had given him the three storey doll house. Would he have confided in the adult me if the child was not so over-bearing?
If you ask anyone who knows me, they will tell you that I came out of my mum talking. Sat in front of him today I couldn’t find the words. I’m use to hearing difficult words as I was bullied throughout my childhood. “I’m leaving home” were the most difficult words I have heard in my life. And I was the one who said them!
It was my home. I began saving for it 3 years before I met him when I started my career as a graduate trainee. I began dreaming of it much earlier and it was the only reason I choose a credible degree such as law. I had quickly woke up to the fact that choosing American Studies and becoming a…?(!) was not going to get me that house. When our mortgage application was rejected I fought everyone to save my house – the previous owners, the accountant, the bank. I even fought god and demanded he gave me my house.
They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. As I went to close door I had repeated flashes of the day I received the keys. It was a day filled with relief and unconditional love. As my husband worked a lot, I spent the first few weeks on my own, with the TV off, sitting in silence, staring at my empty walls and feeling a sense of peace I had not felt before. Today I felt a huge sense of loss and emptiness in my heart. I asked god to look after my house and closed the door.
I arrived at my parents home. I had more flashes. This time they were of the day I got married and left their home. The outside was covered in Indian fairy lights and the inside was like a scene out of Bend It Like Beckham. My cousin was stood in the porch swearing at a flower garland she couldn’t keep stuck to the wall, my 5 uncles were stood around a wooden pillar in the back garden strategically planning how to wrap a drape around it and my aunties were having a competition to see who could most loudly articulate which Indian sweet we should feed guests. And me? I was dancing to the faint sound of Indian wedding songs playing in the background as if no one could see me but him.
It took 15 minutes to pull myself together and enter a home I never thought I would live in again. Half of me needed my parents. Half of me had out grown them.
So here I am. I’m 31 years old, I’ve left my marital home and I’m living with my parents again. For the three and a half years that I have been married I have suffered from depression, melt-downs, tried to kill myself, been in and out of counselling, on and off medication and more importantly I’ve blamed my marriage for it. So this journey is no longer about my marriage or about my life as someone’s wife. This is about me and finding out who I am and what I want. I’m Nobody’s Wife.
Nobody's Wife 