I know, I have been MIA on my blog, posting randomly whenever I feel like it, without any consistency. I know, that this has gone on for quite some time (at least the better part of the past two years). I know, I have mentioned numerous times over the past year that I made a huge decision; which altered my life and brought my world tumbling down. However, I have yet to disclose what that decision was on my blog and have said I will let you all know when the time is right or when I am emotionally capable of speaking about it openly.
It has been over a year since I made my decision and although the results of my decision have not yet manifested, they are in the works and I am a bit more emotionally stable to begin discussing. However, this is going to be a long process; therefore, I will do it in multiple parts. Please bare with me as I write and post these parts, as this is still extremely hard for me to talk about.
Ten years ago, I met a man I thought would be my happily ever after. Although, I knew my soul mate was someone else, I really thought this man would replace my soul mate and would be the final chapter of my romance novel. In a rash decision of losing my soul mate a second time and believing that it was love at first sight with this man, he moved in with me within months of knowing each other. Less than a year of being together, we got married in court and had a small Hindu ceremony without telling any of our family’s.
Later, he asked my father for my hand in marriage, we got engaged and had a semi-big, fat Indian wedding in Pune, India. A few days after I came back home to Toronto from my wedding, I found out I was over two months pregnant. Honestly, I had my period the first month or so I thought it was my period. The second month, I thought the stress of the wedding and leaving work for three weeks just pushed my period back. The third month the same thing.
But when I came back from India, I got sick and decided to ask the doctor to add a pregnancy test to the blood work for the sake of it. I doubted I was pregnant. I mean, I didn’t feel pregnant and believed the lack of menstruation was due to stress. However, to my surprise the pregnancy test came back positive and indicated that I was over two months pregnant.
My husband and I had just started our lives together and now we had a baby on the way. I thought to myself, that Allah works in mysterious ways and maybe this was all a blessing. I accepted whatever came to me through this marriage and life with gratefulness and thanked Allah for the darling angel I was about to be blessed with although, in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t ready to have a baby, both physically or emotionally.
Throughout my pregnancy, I started noticing a change in my husband. I ignored it. I excused his behavior and the emotional disconnect from me as being overwhelmed by the marriage and sudden pregnancy. Then the baby came and we were so involved with her. The first three months were pure torture, as she was colicky and wouldn’t sleep. The lack of sleep between the three of us, pushed me and him further and further apart.
The romance, the intimacy, the compassion, the sex all started happening very rarely. But I thought, as my little angel grew up a little, the hubby and I had to adjusted to being parents, and that eventually, things would get better between us. They didn’t.
I tried very hard to be the perfect wife. I celebrated every occasion above and beyond his expectations; while he contributed minimally. We had dinner parties and celebrations, and went out for dinner weekly, and did everything that happy, normal couples do. We were the perfect little family the world had seen. Friends and family always complimented our relationship and family. We were so chill and easy-going in front of everyone. Plus, our daughter was being raised gracefully. We were that picture-perfect family you see on picture frames at Walmart or the Dollar Store.
But behind closed doors, he slept on a mattress on the ground in our bedroom, while my daughter and I slept on the bed. Eventually, she moved into her crib and he stayed on the floor mattress. He acted like a friend living with me and never fought with me about the problems we never spoke about in our marriage. He didn’t hit me or abuse me verbally. But he denied me the basic requirements of a marriage.
I fought for it for five years. I cried to him. I begged him. I screamed and yelled. We were married. Compassion, intimacy, lust, love, sex, romance were my rights in this marriage. But I didn’t get any of them.
On the fourth year of fighting, during my brother’s wedding reception, I got extremely drunk and smoked up a bit. My husband didn’t bother to give a shit. When we got home, I begged him to treat me right and tried to speak about the problems in our marriage and he rejected me, pushed me out of the way and walked away and went to bed.
The rejection hit me hard and I fell to the ground in the bathroom, cried my heart out, fell asleep on the bathroom floor, only to be awoken by him banging on the door the next morning because he had to take a shower to get ready for work. He didn’t ask me anything about being in the bathroom all night or why my eyes were all swollen, or why I had razor cuts all over my arm. He just walked passed me, closed the door and proceeded to brush his teeth and shower and get ready and leave for work.
That day, I realized my marriage was over. Before he left for work, he was about to give me the same little peck on the lips like he did every day but I stepped back the moment he stepped forward. I told him to never try to kiss me again, to never lie to me and say that he loved me again and to never touch me again. I told him it was over. He didn’t say anything back to me and just left…to be continued…
I will have part two posted later this week.
~Tamana
