My parents are not my real parents; they took take care of me from the day I was born, when my biological mother decided to give me away. I would learn later that she was a young woman from a wealthy family in the province.
My husband and I got married when we were just both 17 and only because I got pregnant. We had two more children in the course of our six-year marriage. By the time our third was able to walk, my husband left me for another woman, this time 20 years his senior. She quickly arranged for the annulment of our marriage.
When my husband died over 15 years ago, I thought I was going to die myself. We were married for over 20 years and never had children. He was the sweetest, most generous, thoughtful husband any woman can have. In his memory, I established a scholarship for poor children in his hometown who’d want to pursue vocational training.
My husband and I have lived for decades abroad, where our three kids were all born, bred and educated in good universities. We made sure that they were never alienated from our home country.
I have been the victim of so many gross injustices in my life—first as a battered wife throughout my marriage, and now, without any warning, as the surprised ex-wife in a church annulment!
I am a resident surgeon in the US, married to another surgeon, and we have two kids. We were college sweethearts, but agreed on a two-year trial separation in med school.
My husband is gay, and we’ve been married 25 years. It took a lot of pain and adjustment to be where we are now. His family knew this open secret—everyone except me, initially. I just knew I fell in love with this handsome, soft-spoken, well-dressed, rich single guy, and I thought I died and went to heaven. I was a probinsiyana with a very ambitious mother, and my parents-in-law couldn’t have found a better match for their son than me.
I have been married for 25 years and this year I discovered that my husband had an affair with a married woman his age. I didn’t realize this would happen to us, and the emotional pain would be more painful than any physical pain.
When my 15-year-old daughter got pregnant by a boy from a very poor family in our town, we banished her to my cousin’s care in the province until she gave birth and finished her college another year. We couldn’t accept, or have anything to do with, the very low status of the boy’s family. His mother was a vegetable vendor who sold her produce on the market fringe that were almost rotten. The father was a part-time janitor in a local barber shop and his three siblings, though all students, studied in public schools. Our family had a name and a respectable business, and they were definitely not our equal.
My husband had a stroke three months ago, and I cannot wait for him to die. We’ve been married 35 years and all those years were miserable and bitter in my memory. I was a docile wife who waited on and catered to my husband’s every whim. But he repaid it horribly by being an awful husband. He battered me physically and emotionally. He disrespected and humiliated me in front of his women. He went from one girlfriend to another, had five children out of wedlock, and only cared for himself.
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