I grew up in a large family in a small English village, being the second eldest out of ten children. From an early age, I was expected to shoulder all sorts of responsibilities around the house: cooking, washing clothes, looking after my younger brothers and sisters, helping out in the vegetable garden, and tending to the livestock. The sheer amount of work left me utterly exhausted, often falling asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.
When I turned eighteen, my parents began urging me to consider marriage. They saw me as an extra mouth to feed, convinced that it was high time I found a husband. Without much thought to what I wanted, they arranged for me to marry a chap named Henry, twenty-seven years old, who lived in Birmingham with his bedridden grandmother. After the wedding, I moved in with them and quickly realised that life hadn’t changed muchexcept now I was caring for his grandmother instead of my siblings.
Henry became the breadwinner, but he treated me poorly, constantly shouting and insulting me for no real reason. Six months on, his grandmother passed away, and suddenly it was just the two of us.
Not long after, I gave birth to a daughter and, later, a son. My daughter always showed me affection and warmth, while my son picked up on his fathers harshness, often copying Henrys disdainful way of speaking to me. Even with these hardships, I found a little bit of solace in a hobby I’d seen on television: making candles at home. I decided to try and turn it into a small business, using what little savings I had to buy supplies. Henry scoffed at the idea, but my candles quickly became popular in the village and I began to earn my own money.
The years went by. My children grew up, my daughter never stopped being caring, but my son grew more and more like his father in temperament. Still, my candle business flourished, and my savings grew with it. One day, when Henry made fun of me for buying myself a simple skirt, something in me snapped. I finally realised Id had enough.
By then, my children were in their thirties and I was still under fifty. I gathered my savings, rented a small flat in Oxford, filed for divorce, and devoted even more energy to building my business. I only wanted to live quietly and peacefully, free from the constant belittlement. There was no bitterness behind my leavingjust a strong desire for a better life.
