​A journey of self-rediscovery: What Valentine's day means to me

FEBRUARY 13, 2024
Contributed by Siti Nadirah Abdullah
​​​Despite being raised in a broken household where I witnessed firsthand what domestic violence was, I was still hopeful, as all girls do growing up, that I would change the narrative of my life, to find someone who loved and adored me as depicted in the novels and movies. A love story so fine where my husband would shower me with a bouquet of roses, gifts, jewelry not only on Valentine's Day but for the rest of my life as his wife. There would be frequent holidays, and we would work together building our lives and increasing our wealth with no worries about tomorrow.

It was a rude awakening when I decided to take the plunge with my then-husband at 21 years of age. Although my mother was against the marriage, her decision many years back to force both me and my younger sister to strictly follow religious practices drove me insane, and all I wanted to do was escape. I did just that by walking up to a guy eight years older than me on Easter and asked if he’d be interested in marrying me.

From childhood dreams to harsh realities
There wasn’t any love there. Taken by surprise and calmly listening to why I wanted to be married to him, without many questions, he took pity on me, advised me to pack my stuff and move out from my mother’s house. I did just that - I moved into a room although I did not have any money on me.

We made love several times a day for the first few months. That act - to me, was an act of love, despite just surviving with the basics - food, or taking rides out on his bike whenever we felt bored.

Within 2 years of knowing him, we decided to make it official by standing at the altar - with the mere basics. Although I was relieved that I was away from my mother's strict watchful eye, I was taking on a new role as a wife. My husband did not bring home much - so I decided to start a home business of doing flower arrangements and roasted chicken to make some extra income as we already had two young daughters then.

Life was a struggle daily with frequent bouts of arguments that would erupt into physical fights, screaming and blue-black marks all over both our bodies. The noise and commotion made our children fearful, and it left us both miserable towards the end.

There were no flowers, nor surprises, no gifts as my husband then was not romantic or felt that there was no need to be romantic as he’d already had me, and he was from a traditional family where romance was not part of the marriage. All he wanted was that I be submissive and keep my thoughts to myself, although he tried supporting my initiatives in making additional income for the family.

At 27 years old, I found myself dreading to go back home to a man who was a great father but who had stopped having sex with me. I felt like a rotting piece of furniture in a home where all I did was wake up early, cook, clean, go to work, rush back home, care for the children and towards the end of the month - buy a gift or two in addition to groceries for my husband and both my children.

Although I loved my children, I knew that this wasn’t the life I dreamt of, and it certainly wasn’t the life I wanted to settle for. I wanted more. I wanted a sense of achievement, I wanted meaning, I wanted to be happy and knew that this was not the mediocre life I’m settling for. I requested a divorce and I gave him custody of both my daughters who were then 7-years and 4-years old. My new found job at the newspaper as a journalist took 12 - 14 hours per day, and I knew I couldn’t be there as much to care for my children, compared to him who had a 9-5 job.

The divorce was agonizing - and emotional as one part of me knew that this position was the best I could secure with the basic high-school education I had. I wanted the freedom to focus on the job and provide the best for both my children. The other part of me was sad, and dead as I found myself lonely again as my ex-husband and children had uprooted and left for a different state. All I had was a few phone calls per week and an occasional visit which again would end up in physical fights - leaving the children more upset than ever. At that time, my only aim was to provide a more comfortable lifestyle for my children - so I pushed hard at work and didn’t allow myself time to heal from the emotional state of losing everything including my children or to deal with the sorrows of a divorce. I just worked and worked - 8 hours normal shift and took on an additional 4-hours overtime to earn extras to be able to transfer money to my ex-husband to care for my children.

Four years later, I met a corporate man from an oil and gas company. He was way older than I - a father figure that I never had. Fair-skinned, taller than I with a sports physique, and educated in the United Kingdom, he accepted me for who I was - fat, short, and darker-skinned with a fraction of his monthly income.

Sex was great, and he was very romantic before marriage. He would remove the bones from the fish during meals and feed them to me. We held hands while walking, and we spent most of the time in bed - making love when he came to visit. After a while, he proposed. He said that he didn’t want to be away from me. We soon exchanged vows despite the fact that he was already married to another with four adult children of his own.

The nightmare began soon after when he refused to spend the nights with me and only came around 1hr 30 minutes once every week in the mornings on his way to work as he said that his first wife couldn’t accept me and the marriage. This came as a surprise as it is permitted by the religion for a man to have four wives.

Embracing solitude
There was no romance anymore, no outings, no drives, no holidays, no clinical visits - nothing except for sex. He wasn’t interested in what I did or my finances. He left no money for food, clothing but paid for the rental of the condominium that I lived in. This went on for years until he retired and totally stopped all communication temporarily indicating a divorce on religious grounds.

Left on my own - I fell into major depressive disorder - suicidal, crying uncontrollably, sleeping on the toilet floor for days, eating excessively, and everything that was in sight. From 49kg, I ballooned to 85kg, I was tired all the time, and dreaded driving out even to buy groceries. The curtains were drawn together almost all the time - with no sunlight or fresh air into the house. The childhood trauma of caring for my mother and younger sister, the stern and forced religious practices, emotional trauma, and the baggage from the first marriage, the loss of contact with both my children who were then living in the Philippines with their step-mother, the second marriage with a husband who only used my body to satisfy his lustful desires all took a toll on me.

One and a half years passed when I realized that no one was coming to my rescue. I had to wake up and seek treatment - to get out of the vegetative state I was in. One morning - I forced myself to visit a clinic where the female doctor gave me a referral letter to a hospital to treat the depression I was experiencing.

Medication was expensive, and I had no choice but to get myself a freelance job that had enough income to pay for rent as well as food. I pushed myself to get out of the house, go for jogs, dance to music, I kept the windows open for air circulation and sunlight, I focused on gardening - edible plants. All alone with totally no one except myself, I had to get myself up and about.

Years have passed, my 2nd ex-husband and I still remain as friends as I still borrow money from him off and on - but return it to him. As I write this article, I remain single - but through it all, I have learned the most expensive lesson in life - to value, to nurture and care for myself. When I feel overwhelmed with emotions, I take a break, drive out the city - if I have a hundred or two to spend on a staycation. Or else, I treat myself to good food on a day out at the movies, or simple window shopping.

My life has taught me that romantic relationships start with myself - caring for myself and being the best version of myself - for myself. It doesn’t come from any relationship with a man. I have also learned to set my boundaries especially with the advent of social media chats. So, Valentine's this year - as all the rest of my life - is me on my own, seated in a simple cheap restaurant, dining affordable food, with a bouquet of red roses that I have sent to myself for being strong despite the struggles throughout the years.

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