You never really know a man until you have divorced him.
– Zsa Zsa Gabor, Hungarian-America
Halfway around the world from Malaysia, as I sit and type this, I realise how much different one can be if one allows oneself to be so. In a different life almost, many years ago, I was always in a hurry. To be this and that, to finish this, to constantly be competing, to seek validation, to prove to someone or another who I am, what I can do.
Ten years ago, I was what I believed to be at the prime of my life – I was married and everyone said we were the perfect couple, I had two gorgeous children, a lovely big house, we owned three fancy cars, we ran a business together that was doing well – and yet I felt like an imposter deep inside. I did not like myself.
I had dug my life deep into whatever it was that we as a couple had evolved it into together, and I allowed half of my responsibilities to be taken over by my other half. I did not know anything about the company’s accounts or bank balances and business development was left to him while I focused on production quality and the home.
I did not cook, because my mother stayed with us and she never liked anyone in the kitchen, unless of course if it was for cleaning and cutting. And even then it would never be good enough. Every time I attempted to cook, she would have nothing nice to say about it and would always be finding fault – especially if it was not up to her taste.
So, I bought the story that I am a lousy cook and stopped cooking altogether. And then she would use that as a reason to further deride me – what kind of a woman does not know how to cook? This was even when I was the sole breadwinner for the family, working from 9 am till 9 pm. It’s a female curse, I guess. We are never good enough.
I stayed with my husband for 20 years – from the time I got married leaving the university. There were many reasons to leave, but I stayed because I was convinced I couldn’t do better than him. I was a different person then – insecure and unsure about my talents, abilities, who I was.
I could not foresee a life on my own. I did not even know how to change a lightbulb. I was that cloistered. It’s nice to have a man take care of everything for you – but you come to this world alone and you go out of it alone, and one thing we can never compromise is independence.
Find your legs and ground first and learn how to walk and run and sprint on your own, before you decide you want to sit on a chair and sleep on a bed – if not, all you will know is sitting and sleeping and never know how to walk with your own legs.
I thought love stories were forever. But they aren’t. I took a lot of things in my stride because I was always a problem solver and never a quitter so my marriage became a project to work on.
My way of solving a problem is to always look inward and see what is wrong with myself and then try to work on it, which perfectly complemented the relationship because he would always look to the outside and find a person to blame. So, we both came to a mutual conclusion I needed to change. And so I tried.
The final straw was the affair he started having, which became too much for me. We tried blaming it on me too, and I tried to become someone I was not, to ‘keep him happy’.
He would say that I work too hard and she cooks for him and serves him, so I tried that too on top of working harder than him at work. It did not help. And so I walked out – told him I will keep the business that he kept saying was a sunset industry and find my new journey.
Told him if he could not decide, I will decide for him. And I rode out into my sunset like a cowgirl…and the sunset became the darkest night that lasted six years, I call it the dark night of the soul, because many things in me died. I perished in a fire that consumed me in profound sadness, grief, pain, fear, anxiety of the future and depression for the past life I lived…but this cowgirl continued to ride and she rode out of the sunset and its endless nights, and into the sunrise of her life, with her cowboy hat intact.
Join me in Part 2 of Divorce next week.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune. Feedback can reach the writer at beatrice@ibrasiagroup.com
