My patience eventually gave out when my husband began yelling at me because supper wasn’t done, even though I was lying in bed with a high fever and he was too lazy to go fetch medication.
I was in bed with a fever that was almost 102°F. Every bone felt strange, and my entire body hurt. It was painful to even open my eyes since my head was pounding so hard. I begged my spouse to go to the drugstore because there wasn’t a single pill in the house.
“Go for yourself,” he answered impatiently. — Why do you complain? You won’t die from a mild fever.
I applied a cold compress on my forehead and closed my eyes. Even getting out of bed hurt. I put up with it in the hopes that the fever would go away on its own.
My spouse entered the room abruptly.
— What? His tone was stern and demanding: “You didn’t cook anything all day?”
I replied quietly, “No, I have a fever, and it’s difficult for me to even stand up.”
— And what if I go home from work hungry? Do you not want to give me food?
I tried to explain, “I’ll be able to get up and make dinner if you go to the pharmacy to get medicine.”
“I told you I’m tired!” he said loudly. It is your responsibility as a woman to prepare meals for me. And take a look at this disaster. Even when she was ill, my mother always handled everything. However, all of you contemporary women have grown so frail.
His remarks pierced my heart. The humiliation from my own husband is on the one hand, and the fever is on the other, making me want to just close my eyes and vanish.
…My patience finally gave out at that point. I did something I don’t regret because I couldn’t stand it any longer.
I stopped answering him. I just grabbed up my phone and phoned my mother’s number while my hands were shaking. My eyes started to well up with tears as soon as I heard her voice.
— Mom, please arrive soon. I feel awful, and my fever is 39°C. I said, “Take me out of here and bring me some fever medicine.” — One more thing: give our lawyer a call. Allow him to draft the divorce documents.
There was a pause on the other end before my mother firmly said:
— Remain strong, my daughter. I’m already en route. Nobody is entitled to treat you in this manner.
My spouse began complaining that I was “overdramatizing everything” at that point once more, but his words were meaningless. For the first time in a long time, I felt relief as I gazed at the ceiling.
Yes, divorce, adjustments, and starting a new life will make the future difficult. Most significantly, though, I at last quit putting up with humiliation.
