Many counsellors take it for granted that trauma is only skin deep and feel more sympathetic towards those who come from families where the spouses are either screaming or beating each other up. But I know that wounds can go deeper than the bruises on the skin or overheard abuses at night. I have volunteered at this centre because I know, from my own experience, what a divorce feels like.

Why?

My father was a successful businessman, and my mother worked in an accountancy firm. I never had any problems though both my parents worked, and our vacations were quite happy.

My father’s business required him to travel a lot. Meanwhile, their marriage had become more of a habit than something they wanted to keep alive. So, when my father fell in love with another woman on one of his trips, he must have found it refreshing, but he had no wish to break his marriage. The decision was taken only when they began to get emotionally involved with each other. Finally, he took my mother out to dinner one night, and told her about it. I remember that they had looked very happy when they had gone out, but remarkably sad when they came back. I was seven years old, and did not know what was wrong.

The Process

Over the next few days, I kept an eye on my parents. They did their best to keep up appearances, and took pains to be careful before me. But when my mother came to tell me one evening that she wants to talk to me about something very important, I started crying, as I instinctively knew something terrible was to happen. My parents got divorced within three months, and then my father packed his bags and left on a vacation from which he did not return.

The Bitterness

The trouble started over the maintenance money. My father was not very keen on paying it, because my mother had enough, and she had kept the house too. When the instalment did not come in time, my mother started feeling frustrated and humiliated. That is when she told me that dad had now got a new mummy and a new baby to live with, so he did not love me anymore. She had merely meant to vent her emotions, but this scarred me for life. Even now, when I am about to finish school, I feel like crying, screaming, breaking something when I think of that moment. The betrayal that I felt from a father whom I dearly loved, and the anger at the unseen villains who had suddenly entered between us, was just too deep for words.

The Reactions

I lost interest in studies. I hated it when I saw my friends with their fathers. When my father came to visit me over the weekend, I refused to go with him. After a few months, my parents sorted out the money matters between them, but by then, I had lost my trust in them. It was not my fault that this was happening, but I was suffering the most for it. The only two people with whom I had felt most secure had ditched me, and it was because they were too busy with themselves to think what I would feel like. I began shirking meals and staying awake forcefully at night to punish myself, because that was all I could do. When I fell ill, I was happy that my mother missed work and stayed home with me. I kept hoping my father would come too, but felt too shy to voice my urgency. My mother did not call him till three days later. I did not know that. So when he came finally, I felt more unwanted than before.

Growing Up

Despite the initial heartbreaks, I must admit that I am otherwise lucky. My mother never stopped from doing anything for the lack of money. She tried her best to be a good mother, but she really could not be dad. I never told her so, because I knew it would hurt her. I could see she did not enjoy watching me play soccer the way dad had done. She did not like frogs to be brought into the house, and knew nothing about fishing. As I grew up, I became more protective about her. But life had changed the day my father had left the house, and it was never the same again.