My Quest

Just a warning, it is long.

I just hope this will help someone. If it helps one person I will have done my bit.

Mail me if you have any questions.


I guess the best place to start my story is at my parents.

My parents got divorced before I could even walk and that was fine. But my father left altogether. In total he got married 7 times more after my mother(9 in all). I had no real contact with him growing up. My mother came from a very conservative background and had a tough childhood. Generally suffering from emotional abuse. She did well in giving us better than she had. But still never gave hugs or said she loved us. The combination of having effectively no father, and a mother dealing with being sole provider and her own demons from the past left me feeling disconnected.

I withdrew into books and dreams. And stayed there until after school.


I met my wife after school, while studying and working my way through technicon. She was the girl of my dreams. Beautiful, ‘cool’, one of the ‘in’ girls, the type I could never get at school. And she liked me. Looking back that was probably my first mistake. I fell for her because of her allure and a little less because of her mind. Love, being in love, let me see what I wanted to see.

From the beginning she was fiercely jealous. And seem to have no control of her mouth when angry. And apologies was non-existent. But we never had any massive fights.

And after my bachelors a friend of hers who was there, who was in fact interested in her, lied to her about what had happened. He paid some girls to try and make out with me, but it did not work. So he just lied about it. Her jealous mind made her believe him and the night before our wedding, while we were still doing some final preparations, she took me aside and informed me coldly that I was not the man for her and that I never was. I was devastated. I cried and begged only to hear “Be a man, look at you, crying like that”. I never cried in front of her again. A few other things were said. I was compared to her ex for one, and came up short.

When she told her mother it was all off, her mother took it as cold feet and the wedding went ahead.


The wedding day started so busy I had little time to think. By the time I could start thinking it was too late. I was so scared. Fear welled up inside me like a fountain and tainted the day forever. I was so nervous and so relieved when we were married that I remember only a blur. The honeymoon was a disaster. We fought like mad. Had sex only once. It was such a disappointment and hurt so much I never got over it. I never again felt good enough for her. I started feeling like an outcast again just as during my childhood. And being who I am, I just pulled into myself, same as before. When I get hurt I hide inside my mind.



Over the next few years I regularly heard what I do wrong. How other men do things better than me. I defended myself saying that they may do these things but they have many other bad points. I believed that I should be judged as a whole and not by focusing only on my shortcomings. I had good points.

She would constantly compare me to her brother, who was more successful, her friend’s boyfriend, who was more romantic, and another friend who was richer and treated his wife like royalty. Expensive gifts, a new car and all the luxuries she could dream off.

Every day I would get a list of chores to do, like a school kid from his mother. If I succeeded in something it could have been a bit better if only I had done that. If I failed it just proved my inferiority.

Every fight earned me comments like: “I cannot trust you”, “You start fights on purpose just to spite me”, “You started this fight so I would not be able to sleep tonight”.

“ You are always wrong”

If I caused the fight, she had a right to be angry, if she caused it and I got angry at her, I was wrong and she had the right to be angry. In fights she would say the most hurtful things she could think off.

At a time I used to put notes in her lunchbox, folded into triangles, everyday. One day in a fight she said: “Is that the best you can do, find something else, it is getting boring”

I did not like giving flowers as they die and go away. So I gave teddy bears until one day in a fight she said: “You know, when I was young I used to like teddy bears, but I am grown up now”.

At times I would clean the house before she got home. She would walk in and not say a word. But later grab a broom or mop and clean the floors. When I ask I get told that I did not do it good enough. I should have rather left it.

Sex became even less frequent, once a month at best and sometimes months without. I used to ‘ask’ every night. Starting with a massage or backrub or just by caressing her. And get the same response, not now, I am tired. So I stopped asking.

And then after a few months, I was told I am no longer interested in her. I never want sex.

My all-time favourite though was her daily mantra, “You don’t love me”. I could say or do what I want, I heard that maybe 3-10 times every day for 5 years.

I started getting enormous headaches. Stress induced according to the neurologist.

Then it became an ulcer.

I felt tired and demotivated all the time. Constantly feeling depressed and alone.

My health started caving in. I would get flu and stomach bugs regularly.

I hated my life and my job and myself.

We bought a business and instead of bringing us prosperity, it drove even more of a wedge between us. The financial stress and workload stress ripped our fragile bind even more apart. For the first time I started looking around.

The result was one hot make out session with a young girl and a feeling of guilt that depressed me even more.

I truly was not worthy of my wife.

When the business collapsed we lost a lot of money and our house.

I took a job for less than half the salary I qualify for. And we bought a new, smaller house. She fell pregnant again. Things were looking glum but with a rosier future.

Then she had a miscarriage at 5mnths.

She blamed me for it. The stress of the whole situation and me ‘picking a fight’ again caused her to miscarry, she believed. Or at least she said so.

I stood by her in the hospital when she had to deliver the dead baby. I stood strong as she asked me too. Never once cried. A piece of me died then. Not once did she ask me how I felt.

Later, when her friends took her on about her indifference to me regarding the miscarriage she asked me.

Then, a month after she had a small heart attack. A valve has been malfunctioning and the miscarriage aggravated it. I phoned her one day and she was in ER. I was shocked.

I asked the boss for time off and broke down crying. I hated myself for being so weak.

The next day I stayed with her and took her to the specialist. As we were driving she said: “The only reason you are here is so you can get a day off”.

I think that cracked me.

My answer was cold and hard. ”Now you have overstepped the bounds of decency. Take that back or I will leave”

Maybe I was too hard. But she did apologise even though under duress.


A few months later I changed companies. My salary went up to more acceptable levels. I still felt alone and depressed.

By now I knew things was wrong. But I felt so guilty about the miscarriage I agreed to try again. She fell pregnant and delivered a beautiful daughter, who I love dearly.


During this time my search began. My search for answers.

I typed into google: “What is the meaning of life”, “Help me” and many other things hoping, praying for an answer.

Suicide is for cowards. But I was starting to feel like a coward.


Then I decided to tackle the problem like I do my work. I wrote down my problem and initial comments. I wrote down my wants and needs and started from there. I went for the things I could get.

First, a prostitute. I needed sex.

After that though I realised I want the connection not just the sex.

So I saw a man. He was loving and sensual, but not very good in bed. And while on some level I did enjoy that, it was still wrong.

I chatted dirty online. That helped. It was dirty and sexy and no risk.

I met a married woman online. We connected through our pain and loneliness.

We met and had oral sex only. And it was absolutely amazing. I felt guilty and sneaky nearly the whole time but even with that the moment kept me and filled me and the connection sated my need for the time. Not too mention that she was a natural. And nothing at all like my ‘wet rag in the bed’ wife. Who left me feeling dirty after sex anyway.

But I was still alone.

So off I went after religion. I was born and bred Christian. So I first spoke to a Moslem and read the Koran. No real answers. To make a long story short, I realised after the fourth religion that my need was spiritual not religious. Religions want you to believe  in what they preach but has little or no regard for you and you’re life. Give me your money is all they ask. If you are with us you are better than the rest, guaranteed an afterlife. What a load!

Religions are more pro discrimination than should ever be allowed.


I faced my fear. I spoke to my wife. Not the kindly accepting way like before, but putting my foot down, this **** has gotta end kind of way.

For months after we were fighting but I was not budging. I was no longer accepting defeat and allowing my personality to be suffocated by her.

I was defiant, rebellious and a totally unmoving object. Maybe I was too hard. But this time I was not letting her walk over me.


In the end she admitted her guilt. But pointed out that I allowed her to walk over me.

She apologised for her behaviour but again stated that I never corrected her forcefully enough.

She never realized the words she spoke before our wedding hurt that much. Or bothered me still. But again said I should have brought that up. She saw the sadness in my eyes after our wedding as me regretting my decision. And reacted as conditioned. By lashing out at me to see my response, to see a spark of love.

But rather than getting me to react, she drove me away even further.


My quest led me to Goths and Wiccans. Truly they are amazing, interesting people.

I found my artistic side. Writing. I embraced it. I tore at my masks, and found myself.

I saw my own strength and free spirit. I realized my mistakes.

I saw that I am sensitive and that it is OK. I have a light happy side and a dark deep morbid side. And that too is okay. I saw myself, and I accepted who I am.

I no longer hated my father or wife for hurting me. They are human just like me. We all make mistakes. But I saw that I no longer had a connection with my wife. I no longer trusted her. And my quest had broken what trust she had left in me anyway.


Standing here before the door to the lawyer, I can see what all lead to this. I know it is the toughest decision I have ever had to make. But it is the right decision.

ajatsea ajatsea
31-35, M
5 Responses Feb 25, 2009

thank you so much for sharing your story, it brought me to tears,

thank you for sharing your you have an update to your story?

I read your story and it was so similar to the life a friend of mine is leading right now. I so wish I could get him to read it without telling him why, you know? I wish you luck in whatever you end up doing. You sound like a person who really knows what he wants and feels and that is a great accomplishment. I wish I could say the same.

Ajatsea, I wish you the very very best for today. Don't be depressed. Things are changing in the world. We're all rattled. I concur with your thoughts on religion by the way. I was born catholic and believed it did me no harm. However, being a grown up female I feel much different about that now. Anyhow, apart from yoga, I don't believe anything. I hope you are not alone today, that you can meet a friend for coffee or something. I hope your lawyer is kind and sensitive. Let me know how you get on.

I know I just wrote it, but I cant even read it.