We had been married for about three years when I started showing symptoms of a strange illness. I remember thinking how settled we were and how nice that felt. Not that there had been great sparks of love or passion between us; but we were a conservative couple who felt comfortable with each other. She kept house for me in an excellent fashion and I supported her in such a way that she wanted for nothing. We were happy. In fact I was so happy I had recently taken out a huge insurance policy to ensure that my wife would continue her lifestyle in the event of my untimely death. It was expensive but I owned a few companies and could easily afford it.

About four or five months later I started having headaches. I had never really been a victim of headaches so, when these started and then became increasingly more frequent and intense, I became alarmed. However, the Doctors could find nothing wrong so I put it down to stress and decided I would take up golf soon in order to relax. Of course, I was always too busy so I never took up the sport.

I was brought up by loving parents who believed that homemaking was for women and business was for men.

My Mom was a great housewife; she cooked well and kept house in a very capable fashion. She loved and looked after us kids, helped us with our homework, drove us to school and all our extracurricular activities and was always there nurturing and encouraging us. Our Dad received star treatment. She showed love and respect to him and absolutely adored him. Sure, they had their disagreements, but they went off privately and talked and sorted things out in an adult way and we kids never got involved.

Naturally when I grew up and met the girl I wanted to marry I thought my own marriage would be similar to the example set for me by my parents. I had my own business and was doing really well and although it involved a good deal of travelling and time spent away from home, I just thought she’d take that in her stride, settle down and become the homemaker my Mom had been.

Before I married – in my mid twenties – I had graduated from a catering school and had a fairly successful little business catering for office functions. My father was a successful businessman with several businesses and I must have inherited the gift from him. I made enough to cover all my expenses, take a decent holiday to visit relatives at the coast every year – sometimes we even went overseas - and I still put away something for the unforeseen expenditure.

My husband had impressed me with his knowledge of finance and big business talk and we were married with two children before I realised that’s all it was – talk! When we were with friends he launched into a boring bragging session of his big business ability. Strange that he boasted about it but remained a Financial Manager in the same company for over ten years with no promotion. He talked about his colleagues who’d been promoted and how he was going to ‘get back at them’ for their back-stabbing ways.

I am a bright, smart and intelligent African woman in my forties. I own a large construction business which I started from scratch and I am proud of my accomplishments. Here is my story so that it will help my sisters in their fight for freedom.

My husband was a cruel, mean man who enjoyed treating me as his servant.  During the years when I was at home having a family and then looking after our three children through most of their school years, I tolerated my husband’s bullying and my life of domestic servitude.

Jaco’s Story

When I married Paulina I thought I was the luckiest man alive. She was beautiful and envied by other women. She was my trophy wife I suppose – younger than me by about twenty years and other guys looked at me as though I’d hit the jackpot. She knew it of course and her beauty cost a small fortune to maintain. I knew it and thought it was all worth it. Also, I thought I was clever because I’d already realised that she couldn't resist spending a fortune on herself so I’d insisted on an Ante Nuptial Contract without accrual. I had protected myself and my businesses from her hedonistic spending.

Bernice’s Story

My parents had their own businesses, in fact the whole family was wealthy and so I grew up with money. Because it was what they call ‘old money’ I was brought up with all the old fashioned values: put others first and help them, be respectful and grateful, be understated and never vulgar.

I chose George for my husband thinking he was the same. He was well off with a newly founded business which was proving extremely successful, and I was sure he was a better match for me than someone who didn’t understand the life of prosperity.

Angie’s Story

We’d been married just over a year when I noticed how weak he was. His mother visited us most weekends: pitched for lunch and stayed for supper. I hated every minute of it. Those hours passed slowly for me. She sat next to my husband and fussed over him like he was a little boy. Touching his hair or his shoulder, she gazed at him fondly when she spoke. It was my Mikey is great at this and my Mikey was always good at that. She sang his praises as though he was still a small child and he didn’t get cross or try to stop her.  Mike seemed to put her first. Her opinion was more important than mine. When she spoke we had to shut up and listen. It drove me mad.

Janine’s Story

So I had a few affairs – and I thought so what? Doesn't everybody these days?

In the beginning, he worked all the impossible hours so we could buy a house and start a family and I was patient, always there waiting for him to come home.  I couldn't understand why when he got home he didn't want to spend any time with me. All he wanted to do was relax, or eat and sleep, or plan some project or think about some forthcoming task. He even preferred watching TV or reading a book to spending time with me.

RAVI’S STORY

I returned home from overseas only to find that my remote didn’t open the gate and I had to hoot several times for the gardener or the maid to let me onto the premises. The gardener arrived and let me in through a side gate so I had to leave my car outside. My keys didn’t open any of the outside doors to the house and suddenly both staff members were no-where to be seen. 

Vuyo's Story

I’ve been afraid to write my story in case someone laughs. I know the Client’s names are never revealed but you feel sort of self conscience just letting it all hang out there. It sounds silly now. I actually wrote my story ages ago because I didn’t want others to suffer like me. Strange then that when I did have the chance to help

a buddy, I hung on to my story and remained silent until his life was falling apart and almost beyond saving.