Would you believe it if I told you that I have been married for nine good years and haven’t known happiness for a single moment? Most people wouldn’t believe it, but let me ask you: if you were in my shoes, would you be excited about a marriage like this?

Right after our wedding, I thought the natural thing to do was to apply for a job transfer so I could join my husband. When I brought it up, he flatly refused. Why would a married man refuse to live with his wife? He insisted on a long-distance marriage. We had never discussed this before getting married. He never mentioned it, and it certainly wasn’t what I bargained for. It became a constant source of argument.

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When I got pregnant with our first child, he still refused to let me move in with him. I stayed at my station and went through my entire first pregnancy all alone. Whenever I complained about feeling lonely and needing my husband near me, he only told me that if I needed him that much, I should make the trip to see him.

I am grateful to God that the pregnancy itself went smoothly, but the loneliness was crippling. I delivered through a C-section and desperately needed help moving around and caring for the newborn. My husband didn’t show up. No one came to support me, and I fell into severe postpartum depression. My mind was so disorganized that I couldn’t even pump milk properly for our baby.

Rather than sitting there wallowing in self-pity, I packed up and went to my late parents’ house. My husband showed up two weeks later completely empty-handed. Not even a pack of diapers or a toy for his child. He didn’t even stay for a week. He left the very next day.

When I resumed work, he made it a point to visit every weekend or two, but he refused to help with any household chores. When our child turned one, I brought up the need for us to live together again, and he said no once more. Frustrated, I reported the issue to his family head. A family meeting was called, and they spoke to him about the importance of a couple living under one roof, but he insisted that he preferred a distant marriage.

One of his sisters told me to take it to prayer. I didn’t see it that way, that something spiritual could affect my marriage, so I took to prayer like she suggested. I prayed like never before until I got tired of praying for a man with his kind of heart.

To make matters worse, he didn’t pay my rent, cover our utility bills, or provide money for our child’s care. It was always one excuse after another. Slowly, his visits became less frequent. Even when he did visit, he only wanted sex, as if that was his sole reason for coming around. I felt used, like a sex toy, and it didn’t make me happy.

When our first child was four years old, I got pregnant again because he forced himself on me. I believe that time, when he forced himself on me while I was sick, was the time I conceived. I honestly considered terminating the pregnancy because I couldn’t bear the thought of going through that trauma again.

During the second pregnancy, he avoided me just as he did before. I had another C-section, and right after surgery, I was doing all the bathing, washing, and cooking completely on my own.

I knew I needed to take action, so I requested a transfer to a different region, knowing it would make it much harder for him to visit me. After all, he always said it was easier to love me from afar.

Moving gave me peace of mind and ended the constant quarreling, but taking care of two children completely alone is taking a heavy toll on me. My husband has neglected his responsibilities for over six years now. Rent, school fees, feeding, utilities, everything falls on me.

A friend advised me against involving Social Welfare, claiming they wouldn’t help. Four years ago, my uncles called him to answer why we were still living apart after all these years, but he lied to them, claiming his business was struggling and that he would bounce back soon. They believed him and told me to be patient. It has been four years since that meeting, and nothing has changed.

It feels like I am married to myself. Recently, after deep reflection, I told my family head that I want out of the marriage and need us to return the traditional marriage drinks. Only for him to open his mouth and say, “Akosua, we know what you are going through, but in this family of ours, a woman can only divorce her husband if he is physically abusing her. Otherwise, our ancestors will curse her with promiscuity.” What about the severe emotional and financial abuse I have endured for nine years?

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I am terrified and exhausted. My husband does not care about me or our children, and my heart is incredibly heavy. Do I return the drinks on my own, or is that not done? What do I do? I desperately want to live and be there for my children, but the weight of everything is getting too heavy to carry. Please, I need your advice.

— Emmanuella

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