A sickly marriage is like a house infested with mould

While watching a home renovation program, the architects made a remark about one of the homes.

“This one is mould infested. It is beyond saving even though the foundation is right, we will need to bring most of the walls down.” What started with leakage at the faucet developed into a monstrosity of mould infestation that was dangerous for the family.

What could have been nipped in the bud remained unchecked and grew into a costly affair.

It is okay not to be okay, but it is never fine to live in a mould or to expose others to it. You are slowly dying if you are living in toxicity but are concerned about what people will think. Which people? Everybody is concerned about the cost of fuel, the unexplained ‘motivation fee’ their child’s school is demanding and all they are thinking about is how to earn better for a decent lifestyle. But you are busy thinking about what people will think if you stop putting up fronts for social media followers.

As a writer of creative nonfiction, most of which is focused on relationships, I am often mistaken and even dubbed a marriage guru. My eyes are still rolling. Anyway, I know the pressure of admitting that you need a break. A long break from your thoughts and from relationships, corporate or personal. A break from all this – not from my wine, thank you – is necessary and healthy.

It might turn out temporal as you reorganise your thoughts, or it could become permanent as you heal and re-invent. You might have outlived your ideals, and your masochist tendencies and come to the realisation that life is simple, beautiful and for the living.

One of the first lessons about writing is authenticity. You must remember that your writing will be consumed by real people who are going through real issues. For example, someone somewhere is battling stress-induced depression. I have gone through that, including having my doctor threaten me with immediate hospital admission for dangerously high systolic readings. I used the fancy term to mean high blood pressure, the silent killer whose symptoms are largely undefinable.

I know what it means to experience a complete and total breakdown of communication with your spouse. It starts with fatigue. You are so tired of having same-aged fights, feeling unheard and unseen that you no longer wish to discuss an issue.

Have you ever put your spouse in the same class as the furniture? I hope you never do, but I know when I have passed by him like I do the dining table. You do not stop to kiss or even greet the table, do you? You do not come into the house and pause to speak with the sofa, looking them in the eyes.

“How was your day? What went well? What was not so good?” Neither do you pay attention to the chairs, wondering what plans they have for the future of your relationship? Your relationship has moved from being unwell to critically ill, with a place in the High Dependency Unit (HDU) in the marital hospital when your spouse becomes part of the household furniture.

It might probably be beyond salvaging when you sigh in relief when they announce that they are travelling out of town, for two nights. You need that break when you can no longer consider a road trip together pleasurable and you do need prayers and fasting if you put on dance music to celebrate their absence.

When I look back at my marriage and those of other couples who have either ended up with lawyers or therapists, or - heaven forbid - even police engagements, I know that it starts with a small leakage at the faucet. A snide remark when the pressure of life is weighing you down goes unaddressed. Before you know it, your spouse becomes better at the deprecating game.

The warmth of your friendship is replaced by cold war and pride. You turn into roommates, then strangers and eventually into enemies who share a bed, or not. At this point, the mould has caused intensive damage and you are left with two options: either bring the walls down or perish. Mould is particularly dangerous for children. You must never hold on to a mould-infested house in the name of children. This article was not about mould, silly!

Karimi is a wife and mother who believes marriage is worth it.