When we started talking, he revealed that he was not as educated as I am. It didn’t matter to me. All that I cared about was that he was a good man. Even when my people asked me, “Are you aware that his tribe has a reputation for being troublemakers?” I shrugged, “Why should I judge a man based on his tribe? You don’t know him like I do. He has a pure soul.” That was honestly what drew me to him. You wouldn’t even hear him saying anything negative about someone who hurt him. It was easy to love him.

When we got married, he was living in his family’s home. It was supposed to be temporary. “Let’s stay here and save a little on rent before we move out,” he proposed. I accepted it hoping it wouldn’t be long. Many years and four children later, we are still living in the family house. He is the one almost everyone in the house depends on for survival. These people are not children. I am talking about grown men who have wives and children of their own. Just like my husband, they’ve refused to move out. All they do is milk my husband dry.

I wish I could say this issue is my problem but it’s the least of them. Imagine being married to a man whose family interferes in everything you do. How could they not when we live right under their nose? Whatever he does, they take his side. It doesn’t matter if he is wrong, in their eyes he is right. He also takes their sides in whatever they do. If someone steps on my toes, he would say it’s my fault for having toes in the first place. That’s the kind of unwavering support he shows them. So I am always standing alone no matter what.

As I stated earlier, family drama is the least of my problems. My problem is the man I married. I don’t know if he had always been like this but was putting up a front to have me or if something happened along the line to corrode his soul. Out of nowhere, this man started throwing temper tantrums. I thought it was just a phase, and that he would get past it. However, he soon progressed to physical violence.

I remember when I was pregnant with our fourth child, this man would beat me at the slightest provocation. Yes, while I was pregnant. It didn’t matter to him that our children were present and saw what he did. One time he beat me until my children started crying. They were tired on my behalf. Our neighbours heard their cries and came to my rescue.

During that time, he treated me as if I didn’t matter. I was pregnant so my hormones were all over the place. When I tried to have intimacy with him, he would reject me. “All you know is sex,” he would say, “You are a useless woman.” It got to a point where he made me cut my hair. I tried to fight him but he had masculinity and strength on his side. He said I was spending too much money and time on my hair. So I cut it for the sake of peace. Guess what? It didn’t work.

When he moved from my hair, he went to the rest of my body. He made demeaning comments about my body that made me feel so ugly. If I were to define myself through his eyes, depression would have killed me by now.

The battle was not easy but I fought and made it out of the dark fog of depression that engulfed me. When I started falling in love with myself again, I decided to do things that made me happy. I worked harder. I took care of myself. I was determined to live well for my children. I added extra ear piercings. I dyed my short hair. Occasionally, I wear anklets. I am not doing too much. Just making lemonade out of the lemons my marriage keeps serving me.

For some reason, my husband didn’t like all the things I was doing to make myself happy. He started calling me names. He said I was a cheap prostitute. Madwoman. What hasn’t he said? “You mean nothing to me,” he would rant, “You are just a wife and nothing more. You are nothing but a sex toy to me.” If words were stones, I would have been dead by now. One time my husband told me, “You are a choice I regret making. Had I known you would dye your hair and do all this, I would have chopped off my manhood and thrown it in a bin, so I wouldn’t look your way.”

In case you are wondering, he’s a respected member of a known Orthodox Church. Yet his Christianity does not translate to his life. He says my appearance is supposed to please him and not myself. So anything I do, that doesn’t fit what he wants earns me some form of abuse.

That aside, he cheats like nobody’s business. Meanwhile, this is a man whose joystick is barely five inches after erection, and he doesn’t even last two minutes before he starts snoring. So why are you even cheating? When I asked him he said, “I last longer with my side chicks than I do with you. So you are the problem.” Sometimes I am also tempted to cheat back. Not as a payback for what he is doing but for my own pleasure. I have never had a single orgasm by him. I’ve had to resort to playing with myself just so I could experience pleasure like my fellow women.

READ ALSO: Is It Strange That I’m Happy About My Husband’s Death?

I’m here sharing my story because he keeps getting worse. He continues to body shame me. It’s gotten to the point where I sometimes stand in front of my mirror and ask God if I am that ugly. The only change I see is my sagging breasts. But after breastfeeding four children, what did he expect?

I’ve told him several times that my tears are a curse to him. That the mockery he makes of me hurts my soul. “If not for anything at all, I am the mother of your children. Shouldn’t that earn me some respect?” I asked him once. He responded, “Childbirth is nothing special, my dear. You are not the only woman in this world who has given birth. So don’t think you’ve done me any good by giving me children.” That day, I swore that none of my daughters would even be friends with an illiterate.

I share this story with a very heavy heart and with tears in my eyes. For a man I downgraded my whole life and future for, to treat me like a rag simply because I do simple things that make me happy is painful. Unlike him, I’m an orphan with no sane family to run to. So I feel so alone. I’ve fallen out of love with him and totally disconnected because of his constant abuse. But how do I leave my four daughters with him? He doesn’t want me to leave the marriage with them.

So I am wondering if I should do what he is also doing. I could also find a man who would shower me with love. That way I will stay in the marriage for my kids, and detach myself from his abuse. Is it wrong that I want to find my own happiness while I stay till my daughters are old enough to be independent?

—Maggie

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