Assalamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullah wa Barakatuh,
Respected Dr. Yehia,
I seek your permission to share my life story with the readers of your esteemed Al-Mugtama magazine. I am not writing to request a solution, for my wounds run deep, draining my spirit, shaping my life in ways that make harmony, let alone healing, seems beyond reach.
I am a woman in my mid-thirties. Although my teachers have always recognized my intelligence and wisdom, I struggled through university, eventually leaving my studies to work. Since my youth, I have resolved not to marry, fearing that I might pass on the pain I inherited from my parents. I have no close friendships, as I have harbored resentment toward any girl who grew up in the warmth of her parents’ love. I would visit friends, see their parents chatting lovingly, and be filled with wonder.
Let me start from the beginning of my ordeal—my parents. I am the only daughter, with one older brother and one younger. Outwardly, my parents provided everything we could wish for. They gave us an excellent upbringing, made sure we attended Qur’an classes, and offered recreational activities. But despite their individual efforts, they failed in the most critical aspect: providing us a safe and peaceful home environment. This failure shattered me and my siblings emotionally. At home, it was either silent estrangement or outright fighting. During times of estrangement, my siblings and I were forced to play messenger, each parent sharing bitter remarks about the other. And when they reconciled, their arguments would quickly flare again, sending us scurrying like frightened mice. The terror I felt as a child whenever I heard my father raise his voice still haunts me, filling me with tears. I endured it somehow, but to this day, I don’t understand how.
What hurt even more was my mother’s criticism of my father in front of relatives and friends. My father was a kind and humorous man, yet he had a harsh tone, and quick temper, and would lose his patience easily, though he would calm down just as fast. My mother, on the other hand, was extremely sensitive and gentle, but she held onto grievances and took time to forgive. Their clashing personalities meant any small issue could ignite a conflict, and we were the ones caught in the flames.
By the time I reached high school, I had become desensitized. I stopped feeling sorrow when my father insulted my mother or anger when she berated him. It had become my norm. But everything changed with the eruption of a crisis that shattered our lives—the divorce. My father didn’t just divorce my mother; he divorced us too.
Their separation, or rather, their "war," lasted nearly three years, beginning with arguments, shouting, and physical confrontations. My mother and I eventually took refuge in my room, forming our own little island in a house split in two. She demanded a divorce, and while my father tried to reconcile, she stood firm. They lived separately, and though the fighting ceased, harsh words still flew between them.
My mother eventually went to court to obtain a divorce, which enraged my father, leading him to insult and assault her. The police intervened, and my mother called on us as witnesses to what he had done. I can still see my father’s hurt and angry gaze, blaming us for testifying against him. After that, we left to stay with my uncle, crowding into his small apartment. My father refused to support us, saying he would wait for a court ruling. It was a humiliating period, as my uncle could barely afford his own family’s needs, forcing my mother to work and find a humble apartment for us.
Despite my uncle’s appeals for her to drop the case and our own pleading, my mother finally relented and agreed to reconcile. We were overjoyed but heartbroken when my father refused. Months had passed since I had last seen him, and I longed for him. I called, hoping to appeal to his sense of compassion, but he remained unmoved. He told me our mother was stubborn and had made his life unbearable; if she wanted the divorce, she should accept its consequences.
I still clung to the hope of returning home, but it was crushed when my mother received the final divorce ruling. I was devastated, not only for my lost hope but for the devastation in my mother’s face. I asked her why she hadn’t considered enduring for our sake, and she wept, insisting that my father had left her no choice. I questioned her decisions, asking why she had stirred his anger when we all suffered as a result. But she said he was to blame and had been difficult even before marriage, though she believed he would change.
Now, as I reflect on my life, I feel broken. I struggled academically, eventually leaving school to work. I detest my life, seeing glimpses of my father in every man I meet. And while I dream, like any woman, of having a home and children, the thought of sharing that home with a husband fills me with dread. The specter of my father looms over every imagined future.
Today, I isolate myself, avoiding friendships, locking myself in my room after work, lost in painful memories. I know that my wounds may never heal. Yet, I share my story out of compassion for those considering marriage: “Please, do not bring life into this world only to break it.”
Dear reader,
This letter is one of the most heartbreaking ones I have received, as it describes the harm inflicted by parents on their children. It addresses crucial family topics, including:
- When do I have a legitimate conviction and not just a passion or emotion forthedecision to divorce?
- How should the process of divorce be handled?
- How to navigate post-divorce management?
Due to space constraints, I will respond to our daughter directly here and address each of these points in future columns, ALLAH willing.
First: Regaining Self-Confidence and Embracing Life
I empathize deeply with the suffering you endured from the strained relationship between your parents and the challenges you and your siblings faced after their separation. You have every right to feel pain, especially since it was caused by those closest to you, your parents. However, there is a difference between experiencing pain and allowing it to control and overshadow your life.
It is natural to be hurt, but it is unwise to dwell in a cycle of sorrow, revisiting past grievances. Many successful and creative people have emerged from challenging or broken family backgrounds. Here are some examples:
- Ibn Khaldun (1332-1406): The renowned Islamic historian and philosopher was born into hardship. He lost his father at a young age, and his family endured displacement and persecution, yet he rose to remarkable intellectual heights.
- J.K. Rowling: The British author behind the Harry Potter series faced extreme poverty and homelessness before finding success through her writing.
- Chris Gardner: His life story, depicted in the movie The Pursuit of Happiness, shows his journey from homelessness to becoming a successful investment advisor.
- Oprah Winfrey: She grew up in a broken home, overcoming many hardships to become a media mogul and successful businesswoman.
These stories demonstrate how one can achieve success and fulfillment, even after facing challenging circumstances.
The trials you have endured can serve as motivation to seek a fulfilling life. First, try to understand the ways of Allah’s creation; every individual is tested, and Allah grants rewards for the hardships they bear. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said:
"Whatever trouble, illness, anxiety, grief, hurt, or sorrow afflicts a Muslim, even the prick of a thorn, Allah removes some of his sins because of it."[1]
To move forward, begin to re-enter social life by engaging in community activities, perhaps starting with a nearby Masjid’s volunteer programs. Connect with coworkers, and neighbors, and build meaningful friendships. Consider continuing your university studies or, if that isn’t a good fit, join Quran memorization circles.
Second: Thinking on Marriage
Your father’s behaviour does not represent all husbands’ behavior; he is only one individual with his own bad behaviors. Many husbands honor and cherish their spouses and the sanctity of marriage. Your parents’ marriage problems were likely due to mutual mistakes, not just one-sided faults. Many marriages, by contrast, thrive on harmony and shared values.
You have the chance to build a stable and loving life and avoid the mistakes you observed. Use your mother’s experiences, which you witnessed and felt the negative effects of, as lessons to guide you.
You still have a future to create. Do not let the errors of others rob you of the happiness awaiting you. Trust that Allah is with you and guiding you along the way.
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Dr. Yehia Othman
Marital Relationship and Family Counselor
+14169973277
This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
[1] — Narrated by Abu Huraira, Sahih al-Bukhari, Hadith 5641.
