‘...and welcome to Britain’s Worst Wife.’

I sat for a few moments, utterly puzzled. I felt the same way when I watched Jerry Springer for the first time, wondering if people like ‘Shaneqwa’ really existed. You know the type of guest that felt bold enough to engage in a full scale girl brawl, knowing that they’d failed to secure their wigs with hair grips and glue.

The semi-balding presenter spoke with the kind of delight villains in superhero movies had, when explaining their evil plans. Husbands around the UK had nominated their wives for the accolade and the ‘lucky’ nominees had agreed to be part of the programme!

‘...those are grounds for divorce!’

My hubby shouted in utter disgust, as scenes of what possibly could have been ‘Britain’s Dirtiest Home’ were shown. Kilimanjaro sized mounds of dishes, coffee cups which frothed with mould; the nominee had simply refused to clean and rarely cooked. She even sent her children to bed in their school uniform so, that she did not have to get them ready in the morning! To think that I had felt guilty earlier about the paper carpet and the cookie crumbs I had created. Those ghastly scenes made me feel as clean as Mary Poppins.

‘Grounds for divorce’…I repeated the phrase. I rationalised that my hubby could only be joking because we both know that I am a far cry from the wives on Wisteria Lane. Sometimes the laundry basket competes with Mount Everest and a pile of correspondence often becomes a game of featherweight Jenga. Besides, we had made the vow ‘till death do us part’ and something as trivial as a dirty laundry couldn’t break us...would it?

What does that mean – ‘till death do us part’? What does it mean today? In a time when sportsmen and musicians are stripped of titles they’ve worked their entire lives for, is this vow still valid? The football industry appears to be awash with scandals and the media fuel their indignity with infidelity and divorce rumours. Someone needs to tell the WAGS* that they need to find strength in a higher power because it’s too much of a trend to be a pure coincidence. In some parts of the world where Zebras and Zulus are plenty (mentioning no names) they would have been whisked off to all sorts of priests and pastors for ‘deliverance’.

Philosophically it could be said that ‘death’ does not necessarily mean till you are six foot under. It could be from the moment a couple realise that their lives are on two different paths wanting different things. Until all signs of intimacy have disappeared and ‘Hussein’ the security guard at work knows more about your next step than your beloved.

Intimacy – the ability to step into each other’s soul, walk around their thought world and leave everything intact. In the words of those giant Smurf things in Avatar it’s the ability to ‘see you’. Its decline and sometimes unfortunate death can be a result of several things; overbearing personalities, infidelity, lack of trust...the list is endless. A marriage without this Columbus like exploration of souls is like KFC chips - tasteless and dry. The depth of conversation can determine the level of intimacy in any relationship. This can’t be taken as a golden rule as there are plenty of couples that do a lot of talking...talking about everything and anything else other than what lies beneath the expensive cologne and bronzing powder. True intimacy requires open hearts, that does not tie visitors to visas with terms and conditions – ‘don’t go there’... ‘you know I can’t talk about that’...conditions. Though it is hard to keep the barriers of entry open when discoveries have been treated unfairly.

Young in marriage and landing from honeymoon, I use to struggle to understand why people would divorce. But spending time with all sorts of married people – those enduring and those enjoying – my eyes and mind is wider. I have seen that sometimes for someone to step out, someone did not step up. When you have a need that someone is not meeting, it’s like your heart is aching and all that you want to do stop the pain. For that person if that means employing a vampire who sucks their financial line dry (a divorce lawyer), then so be it.

The day Michael Jackson died will go down in history. You’ll remember where you were when you heard the news and the sheer shock that swept through your musical database. I knew exactly where I was and how I stared at the TV screen, begging for Sky News to report that it was all a fabrication. I hung onto every word that the presenter delivered, pleading for her autocue to bear a different story. Not many will forget the day that Michael Jackson died but who will remember the day they heard the death of intimacy in marriage. There are marriages die silently every day; unspoken pains and joys, half smiles instead of full belly laughs, headaches instead of...

Call me old fashioned but, I take my vow literally.

We do what we can to ensure that we are not ‘the marriage walking dead’ and keep hope alive. Marriage is the life sentence in which the prisoners are bound by commitment and love. It is the most sacred form of community service that truly benefits society. It pains me to think of the end of the journey so soon after it has just begun but, I do. I have pictured that on the day our numbers are called, we’ll reminisce on wonderful years gone by and pronounce blessings on our children like the fathers of old. Grey haired and decoratively wrinkled, we’ll cross over to heaven hand in hand. To me that is the aim, the dream, that’s till death do us part.

Miss Independent, the obituary.

‘Miss Independent was laid to rest on 4th October 2008. She was a woman who sought no permission prior to making any decisions, beautifully driven and centred on carving her name into the pages of this life. She didn’t want to lose her life but knew that in order for her to live a better; she’d have to lay this one down.’
I come from a line of incredibly strong independent women; women whose backbone shatters the tenacity of the acrylic nails our generation adorn themselves with. Naturally, I have become a product of what I have seen; fiercely ambitious, aggressively focused and determined to often the point of stubbornness. I am surrounded by women who have refused to see the absence of a man (husband or father) as a handicap, excuse or limitation but who have used it as motivation instead. But this incredible strength that I so greatly admire has become a double edged sword. It has gradually formed the backdrop of my worst nightmare. For as many strong women I have seen, I have seen the men around them slowly shrinking to ‘yes’ men. These are men who have retreated to their wives shadows, whose ambitions have been ignored. Their opinions are the last their wives consult, their thoughts and feelings totally irrelevant to their beloved. I would hate for my husband to fall into this category, to hear whispers of ‘how does he cope with her?’ after I leave a room. I have all this in the forefront of my mind. I know that I am not supposed to wear the trousers in my marriage yet; there is a constant internal struggle with the spirit of independence. It’s like a drug that my mind has been hooked on and marriage is the process that is weaning me off it and onto co-dependency. It’s almost as if some issues in our marriage that came to light were a demonstration of my independence withdrawal symptoms.

It’s not easy making the transition from making decisions independently to co-dependently, especially when you have been in the driving seat for your whole life. Having to share your plans, dreams, ideas and decisions with someone else, can be challenging. It’s as though you acquire a back seat driver overnight, who you are happy to have as company but not as the navigator. Your plans, dreams, ideas and decisions can be quite personal and sharing them can make you feel extremely vulnerable. The fear of rejection plays on your mind and when you should open up, you close yourself down. There have been many times during our marriage when I would embark on projects without informing my hubby or asking for his opinion. I understand now, that this is wrong and if care is not taken we could very easily become intimate strangers. I don’t want us to be in a position where my colleagues at work and friends know more about my life than my beloved. I had formed a selfish habit and fear of rejection had totally consumed me. Alarm bells rang clearly when the sentence ‘you didn’t tell me that’ became my hubby’s mantra. Please understand that it is not that I need his permission to do anything, I am not under an oppressive regime as I live in a co-dependency state. I share my dreams and plans with my beloved because I respect him and want him to be part of them.

Submission in this day and age is a swear word, a phenomena. So much so that during wedding vows brides have said the words ‘obey’ and ‘submit’ through clenched teeth. I don’t blame them; they are merely a product of the environment they live in. It’s just a shame that we choose to see submission as an infringement of our human rights rather than a blessing. I understood the theory of submission sometime ago but the practical realisation of it eluded me until now. In theory it seems an unfair advantage to submit to another. If we look at it logically (yes, Miss Sometimes Emotional is daring to be logical), to submit can mean that you are willingly allow someone else to lead you and have absolute responsibility for the consequences of their actions. I know it is not always that easy or straightforward but surely there is a blessing in that. Miss Independent enjoyed having responsibility but sometimes felt weighed down with the number of decisions that needed to be made and things that needed to be done. Surely in a life where co-dependency and submission exists, there would be another set of capable shoulders to place responsibility onto.

This drought of submissive wives is not helped when we have seen the definition of submission distorted over time, its meaning has been abused and stretched. Submission in marriage is not simply ‘do what I say’. True submission is when a woman makes the choice to fulfil what her husband has asked or desired, above her own thoughts and opinions. It is a conscious decision and not the passive door mat mentally, some would lead us to think it is. It’s like when my hubby wants to watch an hour long documentary on the habitat of ‘South American Spotted Owl’ and I want to watch re runs of ‘Dragons Den’. I could argue that watching the daily activities of the spotted owl is not going to help me build my empire or just simply hand over the remote control. (Don’t let my hubby know but more often than not I do gain from the programmes, even if it just to be in wonder of the awesomeness of nature.) Some may see this as a trivial problem but it’s the small things that can build animosity. All of a sudden, my not allowing him to watch the owl picking up sticks in the Amazon can become ‘you always have to have things your way’. It can gradually build up a mindset in him that will be disruptive and ruin the balance of our marriage. That is not to say that we are permanently watching the discovery channel as, he also has a responsibility to not to abuse my gift of submission and demonstrate love (as that would be absolute punishment for me)! The test of real submission is not when you are not bothered with the outcome of an issue; it is when you have a real opinion concerning the outcome. Your ability to submit is proved when you believe wholeheartedly in your decision or opinion, when you are convinced that you are correct. If in those times you can submit, then you are truly exemplifying the character of the kind of co-dependency that exists in a wife of old.

There may be some women who read this that are raging, annoyed that I have abandoned the Destiny Childs ‘I bought it’ attitude. The truth is, I have many dreams and I have not put them on hold. I am only changing my focus. It’s time that I am just as driven and focused on his dreams as my own. It is not say that I won’t achieve them, I will. I just want my husband my side rather than in my shadows. It’s time that as Mary J Blige put ‘Share my world’. RIP Miss Independent, we had good times while they lasted.

‘As Miss Independent was lowered to the ground, a wife arose.’