Eggshells and sunshine

published 10 August 2007

Neni, 39, obtained her MBA diploma last Sunday. Her sister, the only family she’s got, took a vacation from her job in Dubai just to witness the graduation ceremony. Indeed there was much to celebrate—Neni had gone a long way. She was beaming when she got up on stage.

Actually, she was beaming because she was incredulous. She could not believe that only five years ago, she was an entirely different person. Then, she was still Boyet’s wife. Boyet was a horse-racing jockey by whom Neni had two daughters.

Boyet was a good provider. He earned P250,000 a month, on the average. Neni and her girls knew no want. They lived in a comfortable house on a compound owned by Boyet’s parents. They were driven around in an SUV. The girls attended one of the best schools in the area. Out-of-town and even foreign trips were regular family activities. When they went shopping, they could pick out anything that caught their fancy.

In spite of this affluence, Neni felt she was devoid of the most important thing— her dignity. She felt she was nothing. Boyet was an abusive husband, both physically and verbally. She was always careful not to offend or displease him in any way. Seemingly trivial things like a shirt ironed imperfectly, or a dish too bland (even though they had two helpers in the household, he insisted she attend to his needs personally), or a remark he perceived as insulting could trigger his slapping, pushing, kicking her, hitting the nape of her neck or hurling invectives at her. And he did not mind, too, that one or both of the girls would sometimes see or hear him do this to their mother. Sometimes Neni herself closed the door of their bedroom, in vain attempt to keep the violence private.

Living with Boyet was psychologically taxing. Neni existed from day to day, her own mood defined by his temperament. Being in his presence “was like walking on eggshells… you’re always wary lest you vex or offend him.” If he had a bad day, she would be sure to have a worse one. If he lost a race, he took it out on her and called her malas.

But he could also be caring, affectionate and generous. Often following a hitting incident, Boyet would be extraordinarily attentive to her, take her out on dates and actually say he was sorry for hurting her.

Neni stayed on for years. Every family had its quirks, she rationalized. This was just her own’s. Having been estranged from her father for decades and abandoned by her mother since her teenage days, Neni clung—desperately—to Boyet for the regularity of a conventional family. She thought perhaps she was asking too much. And, despite everything, she loved him.

Soon, however, Boyet started carrying on an affair with this other girl, Annette. He started to more vicious with his words and heavier with his hand. Eventually, he drove Neni and the girls out of the house. For many months, Neni begged her husband to come to his senses and make their family whole again.

Now, Neni knows her pleas only brought her down a few more notches in his eyes. As if he could have seen her any lower than how he treated her.

But she doesn’t care anymore. She doesn’t mind that he has bought a new house for Annette and that they now have a son. She doesn’t care that Annette is now the one driving the SUV while her own girls are brought to and from campus by a rickety school bus.

Neni does care about her job—actually, jobs. She is corporate communications manager of a racing club, hosts the racing channel on cable TV and writes a column for another newspaper. And she finished her MBA. With honors.

Her daughters are now 16 and nine years old. The three of them bond a lot, telling stories, laughing over the silliest things, watching movies and reading till their eyes pop out. They have lined their living room walls with bookshelves. They marvel at how light and free and easy life has become with Boyet out of their home.

***

On the other hand, Pam, 28, is still in transition. She has just moved out of the house after 10 years of being married to Aries. Pam was also a victim of abuse, but her case was more insidious than Neni’s. Her domestic situation was not marked by physical abuse. She did not sport bruises on her arms; her cheeks never swelled from any slapping.

Pam says, however, that the damage inflicted on her spirit by the verbal and psychological violence she—and her children—experienced would take longer to heal. Words like p_____ ina, gago, palamunin, tanga, were normal fare. She lived in an environment of subjugation (Aries’ word was the law; his convenience was primary consideration), exploitation (he was making thrice her salary but refused to share equitably in household expenses) and constant blame (she did things wrong or did not do enough) that got progressively worse over the years.

All these extinguished whatever love she initially had for him, the father of her three children. Two months ago, she mustered enough guts—despite fear of the unknown—packed her bags and left. She was trembling, but she wanted out more than she was scared.

She knows her troubles are not yet over. Aries vacillates, and quite characteristically so. Some days, he acts as though he has accepted Pam’s decision and offers arrangements for the “sharing” of the children. On some days, he continues to blame her and says she will be responsible for anything that will happen to the kids as a result of her leaving.

Some days, too, he texts her and reminds her to take an umbrella in the rain. Reading these messages, she is overcome with sadness. In the past, Aries never cared less if he came home drenched. He would have probably berated her for not taking care of herself and causing him embarrassment. Indeed it is too late for him to start caring now.

***

It is an oversimplification to say that Boyet and Aries, along with thousands of other abusive men, are monsters who make hell out of the lives of their (former) partners. They have their jobs—they most probably excel on them. They get caught in traffic jams and stroll in the malls. They laugh with their friends. They, too, are capable of good deeds and kind words. They are not freaks. They are as real as you and me.

Pam says it is this semblance of normalcy that made her inert for the longest time. “It wasn’t all that bad every time. [The ‘sober’ times] weren’t spectacular, but they weren’t terrible either.” Of course, every time the violent phase of the cycle set in again, “I hate[d] myself for still being chicken to go.”

Pam was also held back by the widely accepted notion that separation, per se, was bad for the children, and that she was selfish for even entertaining the notion of moving out.

Now, with the children fast growing up and all too aware of what used to go on between their parents, Pam is emboldened that this step will actually do them good. If she preserved the status quo, then she would be sending a message to her kids that it was all right to allow yourself to be trampled on and bullied. She wants them to grow up respecting others; the first step is learning to respect themselves.

“It’s priceless,” Pam gushes. “I wake up in the morning and I’m eager to start my day. I have a lot to do. I am under a lot of pressure to earn more and set the best possible example to my children. My job is demanding. But I’m happy. It’s like walking on sunshine.”