Johannesburg - It's called Wife Abandonment Syndrome (WAS), a term coined by US author Vikki Stark, who wrote Runaway Husbands, The Abandoned Wife's Guide To Recovery And Renewal.
It's surprisingly common, with the abandoning husbands showing similar symptoms, from sudden personality change, shifting values and avoidance of conflict to narcissistic behaviour and nonsensical reasoning.
Stark interviewed more than 400 people and found strikingly common traits in almost all cases, identifying 10 hallmarks of WAS.
“By the time the husband reveals his feelings to his wife, the end of the marriage is already a fait accompli and he moves out quickly,” is one. He “typically blurts out the news that the marriage is over out-of-the-blue' in the middle of a mundane domestic conversation” and reasons given for his decision are “nonsensical, exaggerated, trivial or fraudulent”.
Most WAS survivors will identify with this one: “The husband is having an affair and moves in directly with his girlfriend.”
Scarily, other symptoms look like those of a sociopath. “The husband exhibits no remorse, instead directing anger towards his wife; he systematically devalues the marriage; he makes no effort to help his wife emotionally or financially.”
Here are two stories of women who have endured WAS:
DANIELLE* an educator, 53, with two teenage daughters:
My marriage ended on November 27, 2014. For about a year, my ex was barely at home, claiming his pipe-band practice, soccer practice, and his responsibilities at work, were extremely important. All legitimate excuses, so I gave him his space as his stress levels were through the roof. Weekends were spent in front of a computer playing games, with no interest in going out or connecting with his family.
That evening I asked that we have a talk. The room was poorly lit, the TV on, and he was lying down on the couch, me sitting up straight on the same couch. A bizarre way to communicate, almost like he was on a psychiatrist's chaise lounge. I started talking about my issues, thinking this would lead to a constructive discussion. His next words devastated me. Calmly and monotonously he told me he hadn't been in love with me for the past 15 years of our 20-year marriage. He made it clear he wanted out of our marriage.
I didn't see it coming. We had fought for our relationship. He was younger than me by eight years. During our courtship over six years, I'd asked him to have relationships with other women so he could at least experience some life. I wanted him to be absolutely sure.
During our marriage, my ex was gentle, caring, supportive, an excellent provider, a wonderful father, a generous soul, giving freely of his time to church and his pipe bands, and helping others with his engineering knowledge and contracts. He offered to try and make the relationship work through Christmas, as we had family and friends staying with us, but he made no effort, refusing any type of counselling. On January 7, he moved out.
He informed his daughters before letting me know. During brief meetings with him in the weeks that followed, to discuss family and the next steps, he came up with this reasoning: that he hadn't had a life as a bachelor before marrying and wanted to experience it now. He said he hoped he would come back, that he just needed time.
But by the time I took our eldest to Stellenbosch University on January 22, he was already at the divorce lawyers. I found the receipt for the visit three months later. To this day he has not invited the girls over to his new place. He chats through WhatsApp to our youngest and takes her to school twice a week.
He has now moved in with the woman colleague that I welcomed into our home. She'd rented our cottage and at the time was emotionally bereft as her then lover was cheating daily on her. I believe my ex's relationship with her started within the past year, with him taking her to various functions in the pipe band world.
I'm still reeling from this double betrayal. I have, however, ensured financial safety for my girls, and myself, with my ex having to cover numerous expenses and paying the bond and building alterations. I came out of the divorce with a generous settlement, though it doesn't take away the pain or hurt.
On the day he moved out, I made an appointment with a a clinical psychologist, who has been a great support. I was put on anti-depressants, sleeping tablets and stopped eating, losing 18kg. A church elder tried to console me, but his words were: “There are many women out there going through the same thing, with the same pain.”
I admit I swore at him then as he had no idea of the anguish I was going through.
Once, my ex tried to invite me to dinner with the girls. I read him the riot act, telling him he wanted to have his cake and eat it. The only relationship I have with him is as the father to my girls. It's sad, because he was my best friend. I lost a husband, and a confidant, and the trust for any further relationships with men who are not family.
My family stepped in, including his family, all shocked at the unexpected turn of events. Friends have consoled me, cajoled me, and been a good sounding board for me. My heroines are those who have been divorced and advised me what best to do, financially and emotionally. And I belong to an amazingly supportive Facebook group, Sisters for Life.
On the up side, my health has been the best it has been in the past eight years. I highly recommend getting out and exercising as a cathartic release for emotions!
JAYNE*, a part-time librarian, 59, no children:
It was late on Friday afternoon on the September 25 last year when my husband dropped the bombshell. Earlier, I'd spoken to him on the phone from work, and asked if he wanted to go to synagogue, then for dinner with our friends.
He said he didn't feel like socialising, and asked, impatiently, when I was coming home. When I arrived home he helped me to carry a shopping parcel inside, then said, in a serious tone, that he wanted me to sit down in the lounge as he had something to say. I felt my heart sinking and I think I knew what was coming, although my mind didn't want to believe it.
I sat down, and he stood. In a practised speech manner, he said we'd been together a long time (30 years) and that we'd built up from nothing to the point where, today, he could say he has everything he could want materially. “But I'm not happy,” he said. I interjected to say: “I've also not been happy” but he told me to be quiet and let him speak. He then told me he wanted a very different sort of woman, one who liked an active, experimental and varied sex life. He needed a woman he could go to rock concerts with, or listen to rock 'n roll with him in his music room.
He said, very angrily, that when he lived at home with his parents, they would all play Scrabble together, and I would never play Scrabble with him! This was just totally bizarre. Then he revealed that he'd spent the entire morning moving all his things out of the house and that he was going to stay with a friend (a male friend who is now acting as his divorce lawyer).
Then, almost casually, he assured me that I'm quite good looking and that I might even get married again. He even suggested that my best friend, who currently lives with her elderly father, could come and live with me when her father dies. I was so angry that not only was he arranging my life, but organising my friend's as well, along with her father's death.
I was in total and complete shock. At one point it felt as though a lightning bolt had blasted through me. I could hardly breathe. My brain was whirling. At another point it was almost like having an out-of-body experience. I suggested we go for marriage counselling, but he dismissed it, and I realised that he would not agree to any discussion. From his tone and demeanour, it seemed that he now hated me.
He was almost unrecognisable as the man I had been married to.
After assuring me I'd be taken care of financially, he hugged me and gave me a quick kiss before he parted, obviously euphoric. I could imagine him telling his male friends: “You see? That's how you get rid of your wife!”
In retrospect, I noticed a big personality change in my husband about a year-and-a-half before he left. He became manic, narcissistic, tyrannical, hostile, dictatorial, verbally and emotionally abusive, short-tempered, irritable, hyper-aggressive, and explosive. He'd embarrass me in the company of friends, talking incessantly and interrupting, tapping the top of his head and, on two occasions, making inappropriate sexual remarks to married women we knew.
He is now with a mistress in Cape Town, and is behaving exactly like her. Within weeks of leaving, he was suddenly celebrating Christmas even though he is Jewish. I later realised he'd been communicating with her on Facebook (and probably email) for about six months. She is older than me, a grandmother and, supposedly, a devout Christian.
Although my husband is a lawyer, he tried to prevent me from obtaining legal representation for myself, saying that all I needed to do was sign the documents that he put in front of me. However, I hired a divorce attorney. When my husband found out, he became unbelievably angry. He is now refusing to pay maintenance or accrual, but because his office and music room are still full of his possessions, he pays the municipal accounts, security company and phone bills.
He's been spending lavishly on himself, buying rock 'n roll memorabilia, thousands of CDs, designer clothing and custom-made furniture, and paying for trips to and from Cape Town. He recently cashed in several investment policies in order to buy a house for his mistress and himself. In other words, he has taken what was supposed to be our retirement funding to benefit himself and her.
It has been completely and utterly traumatising. I felt physically ill (needed anti-nausea tablets for almost a month), could not eat (my weight at one point dropped to 40kg), needed extra pills to sleep, and anti-anxiety pills to help me through the day. There is a history of suicide in my family and I seriously contemplated suicide. I felt I had been thrown away like a bag of old rubbish.
I have no family, but my friends have been selfless and supporting. My congregation and religious leaders have also rallied round. My psychologist has been my rock and my anchor through this turbulent time, and made himself available by phone or email whenever I feel desperate. I have also had the help of a neurologist who has helped to restore my faith in humanity.
* Not their real names.
* For more information and advice, see www.runawayhusbands.com.
Sunday Independent