My Life's Journey Through Love, Pain And Independence

My Innocence

It took me great pains to write my life's story. Though I may not be good with words, I hope that should anyone read it, that you may learn something from it.

At only 21 years old, I got married. Naive and blinded by the prospects of a better future, a mature man's sweet words and overwhelming attention, affection and gifts, I married my husband, who was 16 years older than me. Such was my innocence.

 As an air stewardess, love was in the air when I met him, a captain and pilot at the time. He made me feel special. Despite being married with 2 kids, he made it known that the problems were merely from his wife, who was not fulfilling her responsibilities. (In hindsight, a man who can abandon his wife and 2 kids is a bad sign).

 Being young and raised in a staunch Catholic family, my parents were against our union from the start as he was a Muslim. I thought it was true love. Even then, we persisted through a rocky 3-year relationship before my late parents took me back to Ipoh, my hometown. They warned him and told him to go back to his family. Alas, with youth comes rebellion. He found a way to contact me, made up a story on how I should pick up my belongings in KL. Instead, he whisked me away.

 We eloped in Thailand. The whole experience was surreal. Me travelling down to Thailand via a dirty river on a sampan, dressed only in a simple baju kurung. Funny how I'd always imagine my dream wedding to be much grander, with my father walking me down the aisle and my white wedding gown. Yet in front of strangers, serving as my witness, we were declared married in a language I couldn't understand. He later said, you may not have the wedding of your dreams, but I will give you the life and marriage of your dreams.

 My daughter was conceived on our first night as husband and wife. It wasn't easy breaking the news to my parents, the fact that I had eloped was bad enough, but to be pregnant on top of that was heartbreaking for my father. I later learned from my grandma he wailed in grief upon hearing the news as he couldn't accept I had given my future to someone so undeserving.

 Suffice to say my dream life and marriage wasn't off to a good start. He was a kampung boy and I was a city girl.

 Being so young, I suppose it was easy to groom me to be the kampung girl he wanted. I was even taught to put on and take off his socks. I was taught to serve and obey him and to be submissive. Something I natural wasn't. I cooked, cleaned, served, and looked after our 3 kids (we had 2 more boys). The mental abuses started slowly and the manipulations were subtle. It slowly ate me up.

 Given his occupation, he was away for days on end. Yet when he was back, he would nag me about:

•  my chores
•  if the bills were paid
•  spoil our kids silly
• He would scold me in front of the kids if I corrected them

I felt disrespected and was blamed for everything that went wrong. 

Due to my husband's bad examples, my daughter grew up feeling that women were 2nd class, and my sons were taught that men were superior to women. It was hard as their sense of superiority only grew in time.

After 10 years of crying, constantly walking on eggshells, mental abuse, petty behaviour and belittling, I couldn't take anymore and I had to ask for a divorce. Yet he begged me to stay. He promised to change and asked me to reconsider for our kids (all below 10 years of age). Sadly I relented and gave him a chance.

Things only went from bad to worse. He only saw us 9 days in a month. His erratic behaviour was a negative influence, especially for our kids. Worst still, he suddenly turned completely religious. He said I was the reason he was going to hell. Despite my efforts to ask him to guide me on essential Islamic matters such as how to pray, he would say he was too busy, opting to chastise me for the way I dress or act. He even sprang a sudden trip to do our Umrah with little notice.

My husband eventually developed an expensive lifestyle just to keep up with his peers. Our financial situation deteriorated and was strenuous as bills were piling up. Outbreaks of mental abuse were frequent and depression was a constant. At this point, we were married for 20 years. I no longer feel love, only a relationship akin to a shitty housemate at best. At this point, I had to get a job to help my kids and perhaps earn some respect from him in the future. So I studied and successfully obtained a license in beauty and aesthetics, body slimming and financial planning.

With our financial commitments at a tipping point, I was allowed to work. I found a job and within months, poured all my energy and passion into it. I found success and a bit of self-respect as I was recognised as a smart, hardworking and attractive woman. A sense of appreciation that I always found lacking made me more committed to my work and drew my husband's ire as his insecurities surfaced. I found solace in a superior (and future boyfriend) who understood my deepest fears and insecurities. He motivated me and complimented my progress, feeding into my need for attention, recognition and respect. That was all I needed to ask for a divorce.

The divorce was not easy. He left me nothing but my 3 children and insisted we deserved nothing. The only silver lining, he was forced to purchase some properties under my name due to his age. 

I moved out and moved on with my life with my new boyfriend. My boyfriend was everything I thought a lover and partner should be until he wasn't.

While my ex-husband was emotionally abusive, my boyfriend was physical. He bites me, beats me and kicks me, only in places where my clothes can easily hide. I prayed to God and thought perhaps this is retribution for breaking my parents heart. In some twisted way, I thought the abuse was a form of love.

My life spiralled out of control. Soon I wasn't performing at work, news of my mom dying of cancer hit me even harder, my kids all were depressed and hated me because my ex-husband convinced them that it was my fault for not trying harder. I prayed for death but woke up to more heartbreak, anguish and sadness. My boyfriend had an affair. Yet, strangely I clung to him despite all the abuse. Perhaps I deserved all the abuse in my life. 

My mother's death served as my wake up call. She said "Girl, just concentrate on your job and get your kids back. You have no luck with men."

I decided love wasn't for me. I ended the abusive relationship and developed trust issues with future suitors. It took decades, but I finally found the strength to stand up for myself. I have since devoted my life to improving myself and winning back my children's trust. 

I became an entrepreneur. Despite multiple setbacks, I successfully made a life out of myself. It took a few more years, but today, my kids are proud of me, my business is growing and I am at my happiest state of mind.

Most importantly, I found forgiveness for myself. Being independent has taught me that I don't need to lean on anyone else for support and seek strength from within.

I hope my life's story has inspired you in some way. If you are struggling with life or similar issues, I am open to help, so please reach out.

Thank you for reading my story.