From The Straits Times    |

marriage, abuse, relationship, marathons, survival

“I was 17 when I met Imran* at a company dinner and dance in 1993. I had just left school and was working in my first job. He was 26 and worked in another department in the company.

He was handsome and charming, and two months later, we had our first date. It wasn’t long before I was in love – blindly so.

At that time, it didn’t matter to me that Imran had a possessive streak. I put it down to him being protective of me. He would question me if I had lunch with my male colleagues. He gave me an hour to get home from work every day, and if I was delayed, he would page me incessantly to check up on me. Although it started to wear me down a little, I told myself it was because he loved me.

His possessiveness got worse after I got another job and he couldn’t keep tabs on me at work anymore. Imran called me so often that my new colleagues didn’t want to go out with me, or talk to me much.

We quarrelled frequently. Many times, I contemplated breaking things off. But he always promised that he would change – and I always relented. I loved him so much that I ignored all the warning signs. I convinced myself that things would work out over time.

But they didn’t, even after we got married a year later. My husband would screen my calls at home, and I once spent over an hour going through my itemised mobile phone bill with him, detailing which numbers belonged to whom and what the calls were about.

Over the years, I would also find evidence of his affairs – a message left on his pager, an SMS on his mobile phone, and the final straw, a condom in his pocket. Imran always denied any involvement with the women and I, too, didn’t pursue the matter further, although I was hurt.

The little ones

In 1998, I gave birth to my eldest son, Hafiz*, and things improved for a while. Imran started helping out with the housework and once, even cooked me my favourite tom yam dish.

When Hafiz was four months old, I quit my job to become a stay-at-home mum. To supplement our income, I taught fitness classes twice a day on weekdays. I also gave tuition and baked cookies at home to sell to my fitness students.

My daughter, Liana*, was born next. She was diagnosed with Global Developmental Delay (GDD), a condition that hampers cognitive and communication abilities. As Liana required round-the-clock care, I was focused on her needs. Imran became jealous and remarked that I was so busy being a good mother, that I had no time to be a good wife. But I had no choice – we didn’t have a helper then. Things continued to deteriorate after Irfan*, my youngest, came along.

A big hit

Whenever I went against my husband’s wishes or was rude to him, he would slap me – to discipline me, he said. He always reiterated that he was not a wife beater but that I needed to be kept in line. I believed him, because he was older than me, and wiser, I assumed.

Once, he claimed that I was rude to his mother, whom we lived with, and struck me hard. The next day, my head thumped so painfully I had to get an X-ray done. The results showed a white patch around the sinus area, and the doctor said that I had aggravated the nerves badly.

I was nearing my wit’s end so a few days later, when I went out to pay the bills, I met up with a counsellor from Mendaki. She advised me to go to the Syriah Court. By the end of our conversation, I was panicking because I was running late.

When Imran found the pamphlets from Mendaki, he slapped me. This time, his knuckles hit my eye when I turned my head. I had to cover up the bruises.

The last straw

In 2006, I was devastated when I found a condom in Imran’s pocket. I drove away from my house, crying. When I returned home, I confronted him, but he insisted he had picked it up from the floor. I numbly accepted his excuse.

A few weeks later, Liana had her first epileptic fit. I was terrified and we rushed her to the hospital. When she blacked out for a few minutes in the car, I thought she had died.

Liana’s condition stabilised in the hospital, so Imran went home while I stayed by her bedside. When he came by the next day and saw that I had my parents and relatives around, he left. I was too exhausted to be disappointed or angry at his lack of concern.

A week later, I filed for divorce. I packed my suitcases when he was at work, gathered my helper and children, and headed to my parents’ home. Six months later, in December 2006, our divorce was finalised. I was ready to move on and start a new life with my children.

Challenges of being a single mother

With three young children and a helper in tow, I house-hopped for over a year – from rented flats to my parents’ home and back. I continued giving tuition, as well as teaching fitness classes to earn extra cash.

In 2008, I managed to scrape together enough cash, along with a bank loan, to afford the down payment on a three-bedroom flat. I also found a full-time job. My fixed hours meant that my parents and sister had to help with my children. My parents would pick them up from school if they were ill and my sister tutored them.

Even though I was doing well in my job, I quit a few years later because it was taking me away from my children. I needed a job that gave me the flexibility to look after Liana and spend time with my boys. So I got a licence to become a property agent.

My precious daughter

Caring for Liana is a full-time job. She is a non-stop work-in-progress, but she has come a long way.

At 12, she is now on the brink of puberty. It’s a difficult time for her because she can’t communicate her pain and frustrations. She can’t speak and is still in diapers.

Visits to doctors and dentists are trying because we have to physically hold her down, while she screams and cries. At home, we communicate with her using flash cards, the way she’s learnt to do in her special school.

She takes more time to do things like eating, drinking, bathing and putting on her clothes, things we take for granted. Although she is now able to eat and drink with ease, putting on shoes still requires effort. We are currently trying to toilet-train her, too. We also try to improve her motor skills with daily exercises.

Besides GDD, Liana was also diagnosed with mild epilepsy when she was six, and she needs medication for the rest of her life.

People stare at us all the time, and her brothers are very protective of her. Hafiz, in particular, gets very upset when children make fun of her at the playground. But I’m proud of him for his maturity and self-restraint – he has never picked a fight, even when he was younger. I also used to be aggressively protective, but now, I take things in my stride.

With the help of my family, her teachers and doctor, I am ready to tackle these challenges. I’ve stopped being in denial and hoping that my daughter will one day be normal and call me Mummy.

Yet, I still believe that miracles happen. I have never stopped praying to God to give me the strength to take care of her. My greatest worry is, when I die, who will look out for her? I need to remain healthy and strong so I can be there for Liana.

Impact on the children

I’ve always depended heavily on Hafiz, who very early on, adopted the role of the man of the house. At the age of five, he was already helping me to change Irfan’s diapers, while I tended to Liana.

He used to tell me that he felt sad in the mornings, knowing that he was waking up in a home without a father. We’re very close to my parents so my own father serves as the boys’ father figure. He’s a huge influence in their lives.

I talk to my sons a lot. I apologise to them for the divorce and tell them that it is not their fault. I still believe that children need a mother and father. For now, my family has filled that void and I try my best to play both parental roles. I am sure all this will have an impact on them – both positively and negatively – but I am doing my best to mend the broken pieces.

My kids have seen me struggle and work several jobs, and no matter how tired I am, I try never to neglect them. I am hopeful that this will help them to appreciate women more. I have also taught them to cook and clean, and do the daily chores, so they can help their partners in future. Having a sister who is a special child has also made them more understanding; they tend to appreciate things most kids take for granted.

Running to cope

The first thing I did after my divorce was to challenge myself – by taking part in a 128km round-island biking trip in 2007. That same year, Hafiz took part in a triathlon – he was hardly 10 years old then but was proving to be a talented tri-athlete. In time, Irfan would also follow in his older brother’s footsteps.

I’ve always wanted to run a marathon and to train, I ran the 5km Shape and 12km Passion runs before signing up for the Standard Chartered Half-Marathon. In 2008, I completed my first marathon.

I joined the Great Eastern Women’s Run in 2009, and this will be my fourth year participating in it. Running is a way to prove to myself that I can overcome any obstacle, physical or mental. I’m glad that my children have the same passion for sports as I do. A few years ago, my boys and I ran in a race together. They finished ahead of me, and were waiting and cheering for me at the finishing line.

Hope for the future

When friends asked me why I stayed in my marriage for so long, I have no answer. I think it was because my life with Imran was the only one I knew. He was my first boyfriend, and I was young and in love. When I got married and things soured, I was too ashamed to turn to anyone.

It’s been six years since the divorce, and I know my sons hope that I’ll meet someone soon, so I don’t have to work so hard. But that’s a secondary concern. My family and children are what matter to me. Even if I don’t end up meeting someone else, I still know that I’m in a better place right now.”

 

*Names have been changed.
This story was originally published in the September 2012 issue of Simply Her.