I read a blog post someone wrote yesterday about the challenges of growing up in a broken home and it just brought back memories. Many people don’t realise how difficult it is to be brought up in a broken home and still turn out great. That’s why for me, the rate of divorce is just sad because people don’t consider the future implications of their actions before they take that plunge into the beautiful world of marriage.
To be honest I cannot even say that I was brought up in a broken home. Something has to be whole for it to be broken right? Well my parent’s marriage was never whole. I’ll just say they were two people who decided to live together and have children. There were no romantic moments, no kisses thrown with reckless abandon and no “I love you” said without limitation. Essentially, there was no love between them. It was more of the typical master-slave relationship that traditional African men had with their wives.
Although there were no fights or quarrels, not openly at least, things were just odd. The night my dad left is a night that I will always remember; the hurried packing of suitcases, my mother’s hysterical behaviour and me sitting in the car with her speeding on the expressway like she was about to end both our lives. I was 9 years old at the time and my brain could not comprehend what was happening. However, that day I knew my life was about to change drastically even though I didn’t realize how bad things would get.
I asked myself “Why did daddy leave?” I asked my dad the same question but he never gave a satisfactory answer. Till today, he still hasn’t given a satisfactory answer. “Things”…that’s the reason I heard over and over again. What things? I have no idea. At a point I began to feel like it was my fault. My mum didn’t make things any better. I guess she didn’t know how to handle everything. The day my dad left also marked the beginning of a bitter-sweet relationship with my mum. Hurtful words, frustration let out in physical abuse and intense pain were just a few of the things I had to endure.
There was a day I almost ran out of the house. I couldn’t take it anymore. After 3 years, my body could not take any more bruising. My heart was in a worse condition. As God will have it, the door was locked that very day. Lord knows I was ready to run as fast as my legs could take me not having any particular destination in mind. The door was my escape from the impending pain that the ‘omorogun’ my mum had in her hands was about to inflict on me; it was also an escape from a very dark world. But she grabbed me as I held on forcefully to the door. I screamed, knowing that I had missed an opportunity of a lifetime.
So it all continued but as the strong girl that I am, no one could ever have imagined the pain I felt inside. In school, I plastered a very big smile on my face. Once in a while, the drama between my mum and I would manifest but people never understood how bad things were. What about my mind? Hmm … it was turned upside down. I did not want to have anything to do with marriage. It was evil in my opinion. Love to me was just a word that jobless people threw around. I didn’t believe in it.
It took the grace of God for me to receive my healing from the chain of events which took place that night my dad left. There was a time in A’ level College that someone said “Why do people make such a big fuss about kids that are brought up in a broken home? See Doyin here, she is from a broken home and she gets all A’s. She has everything money can buy.” I don’t know whether he made that statement out of ignorance or sheer stupidity but clearly, the young man had no clue what he was on about. Trust me, I will not pray for my enemy to have a broken marriage.
There is a certain stigma attached to it. It’s like a fly that just won’t go away. I remember sitting in one service and the pastor told the single brothers not to marry a woman who comes from a broken home because 90% of them would also end up having a broken home. It takes great faith for you to believe that you will be part of the 10% that will make it. I didn’t think much about the statement back then since I was not interested in getting married anyway. But there were people in the service who were. Imagine how they would have felt.
The truth is, coming from a broken home is difficult. It leaves you kind of jaded. It’s only God’s grace that allows you to rise above the mess with a clear head. My relationships with both men and women have suffered because I had trust issues. I built mighty walls around my heart because I couldn’t just imagine letting someone into my life. I mastered the art of crying deeply at night and putting a wide smile on my face in the morning. Thank God for God. I am here today and I can write this piece without any hurt or resentment. I love my mum to bits and my dad too and I do intend to get married. And trust me; I’ll be among the 10% who make it, if that particular statistic is correct!
About the Writer: Adedoyin Jaiyesimi is a Writer, Media Content Creator and Brand Manager. The various publications she has written for include Y! Magazine (now Y! Africa), Discovery, Pride Magazine Nigeria, Butterscotch magazine amongst others. She currently holds the position of Brand Communications Manager at Victor Adeyemi Ministries and she is also the founder of LRouge Media, an editorial and brand consultancy company which provides content writing and editing services for business websites, magazines and blogs. When she is not creating content, you can find her in church doing the work of her Father. She tweets @msdoyeen and blogs at
www.adedoyinjaiyesimi.wordpress.com .
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This article was first published on 5th August 2015
Comments (1)
the trauma of a broken home!