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Emotional Trauma: Confession Of A Lagos Based Housewife

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Emotional Trauma: Confession Of A Lagos Based Housewife

I am Evelyn, a Lagos Based housewife and I have a very special issue that needs to be dealt with urgently, it is about to ruin my marriage of over 8 years.

I and my husband had a very beautiful life together, but that was until two years into our marriage, just after we had our first and only child.`

Danny as I fondly call him had lost his job then and would not have me work, he said it was his duty to provide for his family and believed that our child would need all my attention.

I used to be a marketer at one of the leading banks, while he worked with an oil firm but was retrenched due to certain unclear circumstances.

The quest for a job took a toll on my husband because we had debts to offset, so many bills left unpaid.

During that period, Danny will go out very early only to come back very late at night. The time spent however, did not reflect on our economic status.

We were not begging but we could tell that the family was digging too deep into its reserves.

After about a year and no serious job forthcoming, Danny decided he would go into a business of his own.

He started a business with the little we had saved over the years, he gave it his all, time, body and soul.

Danny could be very determined and that was the spirit he put into the business, however, it was our home that suffered the brunt.

Gradually I began to feel the detachment from him, he was more connected with making the business boom, there was little or no time for me and my little boy.

Our s*x life was almost dead and when we did have anything intimate it was shabby at best.

He gave numerous excuses of why his performance had drastically come to an all time low, from business thoughts to the Lagos stress that is always tied to the ever present gridlocks for no just cause.

I cried severally because i was starved not just of both love and s*x, I am emotional traumatised or perhaps you might think I am vain but please don’t judge me till you have walked a mile in my shoes.

Danny could not hold his own for even five minutes, no sooner than he gets in and the milk is spilt. He said he had tried several things but they just don’t work.

For months and then over a year, things continued the same way. After a while, I gave up totally, resigning to fate.

Good thing is, the business started to grow miraculously, but the more it grew, the distant my husband became from me.

There was no day without a meeting, the weekends were spent virtually at his business place, only on rare occasions did I and my son go visiting there.

I was idle, and perhaps that was the avenue for certain things to happen, things I am not so proud to mention.

The most crazy of all that I began to indulge in, is basically living on socio-media. While I bore my heart in subtle Tweets and Facebook posts, I wore a hypocritical look on Instagram.

My photos bearing faked smiles, hid my inner torment and emotional anguish, but there was this guy who could read between the lines, he introduced himself to me as George.

He was about 10 years younger than myself and twenty years younger than my husband. But he was smart and witty, I was caught off-guard.

George made me pour my heart to him in such a way that I felt exposed, and before I could blink, we were dating.

From internet chats we advanced to calls and texts, before I knew it, I was inviting this young man into my matrimonial home.

He was young but George sure did know how to treat a lady and offered some degree of emotional relief -there was never a boring moment with him, as his wits exuded effortlessly.

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