I came back to town after that trip very refreshed and hopeful for my future. I had some messages from Don on my answering machine, but I deleted them. I wasn't interested in my life being the same as it was before I left.
I just knew there was someone out there for me. I had a feeling that he wasn't in my town, but he would be coming for me sometime.
I was still going to college part-time and working full-time. Things were going pretty well except for the occasional phone call and/or visit from Don.
I probably should have continued in counseling, but I didn't see how it would do any good. I went a few times early on, and I didn't feel that the counselor really cared too much for what happened with me... I felt that I was just another $70 visit.
So, deep inside of me, there were these gaping wounds that I was covering up. I tried to ignore them, but as you know, they never really go away. Yes, sometimes they are healed, but the scars remain, even if they are faded.
My sister and brother-in-law came over for dinner on April 12th. He put some mini-blinds up in my apartment for me, and I made dinner for them. We talked about my life and what had changed. I told them that I thought I would be fine without anyone special in my life. I was getting used to being alone, and it wasn't so bad.
Two days later, I met him.
I went to church that morning, and there was this really good-looking guy sitting next to my parents. So, I went over and introduced myself to him. I am usually not that bold, and I couldn't really believe I did it!
We didn't talk again until that night, but it was the day that changed both of our lives.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sometimes, You Just Gotta Believe
For the first time in a very long time, my life was taking on a sense of "normal." I still dealt with my insecurities and longing for someone to share my life with. But I began praying for forgiveness and mercy. And God showed up for me big time!
Even though I didn't feel like it some of the time, and even though my heart had been broken into a million pieces, I was still moving forward and trying to do the right thing. My life was being transformed little by little, even though I still slipped up occasionally.
That fall, I moved out of the apartment complex and into an apartment on the second floor of a two-story four-plex. It had two bedrooms and was very similar to the one I had lived in a couple of years earlier. I didn't have the nicest things, and I didn't even have a color television. But it was MY place, and I didn't really worry about much when I was living there. If anyone was walking up to my apartment, I could hear it and be prepared.
Don showed up there one night very drunk, and I took him back home to get him out of my hair. He called me later and blamed me for the problems he and Cindy were having. He beat her up again, and he tried to blame it on me. He said it was my fault. I think this was the first time that I didn't let him get to me. I knew it wasn't my fault. I told him to stop calling me, and to please leave me alone. In fact, one night, Cindy called me, and I told her that he was calling me and asked her if she could make him leave me alone.
1991 started, really with no fanfare, but on a good note. The time was getting nearer when my life was really getting ready to change. I felt in my heart that something was going to change, but I didn't really know what.
At the first of February, I went on a ski trip with my friends and pastor from church. I was so relieved that I wouldn't be home for several days, and Don couldn't call me and tell me how pitiful his life was. I couldn't be drawn into his misery if I was gone. There were no phones to call out, and he had no way to call me, either. He didn't even know I would be gone.
As I stood out on the balcony on a condo at Breckenridge, looking out at the snow-covered mountains, I made the plea to God that I had never made before. I prayed that if He would please just forgive my mistakes, would He please give me another chance with His choice for my life. I would wait for the man who was meant to be with me this time.
After I prayed, I felt peace come upon me like I had never had before. And I knew that God heard my prayer and was going to answer me.
We had such a great time on this trip. I really enjoyed being gone from home. On the long drive home, I sat in the front seat of the van and talked to my pastor about my life and all of the things that had happened. He had great words of encouragement for me, as he always did. He was very close friends with my parents, as we had all known each other for so long.
Unknown to me, God was working on my behalf. A man 1,500 miles away had just lost his job and began a traveling job, which would lead him directly to my town, to my church, and into my life.
Even though I didn't feel like it some of the time, and even though my heart had been broken into a million pieces, I was still moving forward and trying to do the right thing. My life was being transformed little by little, even though I still slipped up occasionally.
That fall, I moved out of the apartment complex and into an apartment on the second floor of a two-story four-plex. It had two bedrooms and was very similar to the one I had lived in a couple of years earlier. I didn't have the nicest things, and I didn't even have a color television. But it was MY place, and I didn't really worry about much when I was living there. If anyone was walking up to my apartment, I could hear it and be prepared.
Don showed up there one night very drunk, and I took him back home to get him out of my hair. He called me later and blamed me for the problems he and Cindy were having. He beat her up again, and he tried to blame it on me. He said it was my fault. I think this was the first time that I didn't let him get to me. I knew it wasn't my fault. I told him to stop calling me, and to please leave me alone. In fact, one night, Cindy called me, and I told her that he was calling me and asked her if she could make him leave me alone.
1991 started, really with no fanfare, but on a good note. The time was getting nearer when my life was really getting ready to change. I felt in my heart that something was going to change, but I didn't really know what.
At the first of February, I went on a ski trip with my friends and pastor from church. I was so relieved that I wouldn't be home for several days, and Don couldn't call me and tell me how pitiful his life was. I couldn't be drawn into his misery if I was gone. There were no phones to call out, and he had no way to call me, either. He didn't even know I would be gone.
As I stood out on the balcony on a condo at Breckenridge, looking out at the snow-covered mountains, I made the plea to God that I had never made before. I prayed that if He would please just forgive my mistakes, would He please give me another chance with His choice for my life. I would wait for the man who was meant to be with me this time.
After I prayed, I felt peace come upon me like I had never had before. And I knew that God heard my prayer and was going to answer me.
We had such a great time on this trip. I really enjoyed being gone from home. On the long drive home, I sat in the front seat of the van and talked to my pastor about my life and all of the things that had happened. He had great words of encouragement for me, as he always did. He was very close friends with my parents, as we had all known each other for so long.
Unknown to me, God was working on my behalf. A man 1,500 miles away had just lost his job and began a traveling job, which would lead him directly to my town, to my church, and into my life.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Transferring Your Emotions to Someone Else Does Not Help!
My friends, J & S, who set me up with K on New Year's Eve, had another friend, S, who lived in my apartment complex. In fact, he lived right across the parking lot from me. We sat and talked a lot. He had recently been divorced, too. He was going to ride with me to look at the new place that my friend had found for us to live in. He came over early on New Year's Day, and we went to see it.
It was nice having a guy friend who didn't really expect anything from me. He was single, but there were no indications of romance between us. A no-pressure relationship. Just what I needed at that point.
Even though Don was still calling me, I tried to stay away from him as best I could. I tried some counseling, but it wasn't helping me. I should have contacted another counselor, but I didn't. I just stopped going.
My friend, M, and I were still going out to the bar each weekend. There was this guy there that I thought I liked. Looking back, I seriously wonder why I would. I think I was just desperately wanting someone to care about me. He and I were just friends, but at times, I believe he led me on. That should have been okay for me, but because of my past, I wanted to believe it could be something more than it was.
This was before the Internet really became widespread, but I got involved with a singles meeting singles deal in a magazine, too. I had a date with a very nice guy, but it was when I was started to become more ill than I had ever been in my life. That winter/spring was horrible for my health, but I was working two jobs and going out when I could. My average hours of sleep each night was probably four. Maybe. The night I went out with him (it's terrible, but I can't even remember his name), I was so sick that I couldn't even hear him when he was talking to me, and my voice was almost gone. Not a good scene. He did call me back, but I told him that I just couldn't go out with him again because I wasn't over Don yet.
I had a lot more heartache during those months, too. And I did things I would not normally do.
My roommate and I started not getting along. I don't think it was her fault, but I tried to blame it on the difference in our beliefs about abortion and a bunch of other stuff. It was me trying to make excuses to get out of living there. I wasn't there much, and I spent most of my time at the other end of town, and I wanted to move over there.
Strangely enough, Don helped me move, along with my other guy friends. Strange. Weird.
He was now living with Cindy at her duplex, and I didn't see much of him. However, he did call me on the phone, though. And I did see him occasionally. For some reason, he wouldn't let go of me, and let me live my life.
After I moved into the new apartment, there was a strange peace coming into to my life. I didn't go out much anymore, and I was really trying to get my life together. The new apartment was in the same complex, actually right across the sidewalk, as my very first apartment. It was like my life was coming full circle.
It was also strange when I found out that a couple of my friends were actually interested in ME, not my friend. Of course, I was not interested in anything other than a friendship with them, and that is what we had developed.
That summer, I spent a lot of time with ME. I started seeing things about myself that I had forgotten. Even though Don was in and out of my life, especially when he was drunk, he didn't have the 100% power he used to have in my life.
He did show up at my apartment drunk in the middle of the night once, parked his motorcycle on my doorstep and passed out. After he left in the morning, my dad called and asked if he was at my apartment because Cindy had called my parents and told them that she thought he was with me. I said he wasn't there, but I didn't offer that he had been there. I was pretty hacked off, though. I told both of them to stop dragging me into the middle of their fights. It was coming to the point where I didn't want any part of it.
I think I was starting to get over it in some small way.
I was going to go out of town for work, and Don agreed to keep the dogs. He was the dog-sitter when I needed him to be. We were almost becoming friends more than anything else. The fact that he was with Cindy wasn't bothering me too much anymore. That's not to say that there weren't times when I felt guilty that I left him because there were those times.
The day I was getting ready to leave and take the dogs over to their house, he called to let me know that he had been in a terrible motorcycle accident that would have left him dead if he hadn't had a helmet on. When I did see him, he looked horrible. But I didn't feel guilty then. He was making these stupid decisions, and I was actually thankful that he wasn't my husband any longer.
One day that summer, I decided to go back to my old church again. A lot had happened in the 6+ years I had been gone, and many people knew about what had gone on in my life during this time. And they prayed for me. I think they probably didn't believe anymore that anything would change for me. Imagine their surprise when I showed up at church that first Sunday morning! It was great.
And I also enrolled in college part-time. I was going to begin pursuing my dream of becoming a teacher! That was so exciting to me because my life had been on hold for so long. I felt like I had been waiting for something to happen, and all those years had passed by with nothing to show for it.
I had sold my truck that spring, finally, so I didn't have to work two jobs. That was also helpful to my life. I was still working at the insurance company, and I was a better employee after my divorce and move.
I spent my time trying to get good grades in my classes instead of wondering if and when Don would call me. I was letting go little by little. Unfortunately, he still had a way of emotionally abusing me when he wanted to.
It was nice having a guy friend who didn't really expect anything from me. He was single, but there were no indications of romance between us. A no-pressure relationship. Just what I needed at that point.
Even though Don was still calling me, I tried to stay away from him as best I could. I tried some counseling, but it wasn't helping me. I should have contacted another counselor, but I didn't. I just stopped going.
My friend, M, and I were still going out to the bar each weekend. There was this guy there that I thought I liked. Looking back, I seriously wonder why I would. I think I was just desperately wanting someone to care about me. He and I were just friends, but at times, I believe he led me on. That should have been okay for me, but because of my past, I wanted to believe it could be something more than it was.
This was before the Internet really became widespread, but I got involved with a singles meeting singles deal in a magazine, too. I had a date with a very nice guy, but it was when I was started to become more ill than I had ever been in my life. That winter/spring was horrible for my health, but I was working two jobs and going out when I could. My average hours of sleep each night was probably four. Maybe. The night I went out with him (it's terrible, but I can't even remember his name), I was so sick that I couldn't even hear him when he was talking to me, and my voice was almost gone. Not a good scene. He did call me back, but I told him that I just couldn't go out with him again because I wasn't over Don yet.
I had a lot more heartache during those months, too. And I did things I would not normally do.
My roommate and I started not getting along. I don't think it was her fault, but I tried to blame it on the difference in our beliefs about abortion and a bunch of other stuff. It was me trying to make excuses to get out of living there. I wasn't there much, and I spent most of my time at the other end of town, and I wanted to move over there.
Strangely enough, Don helped me move, along with my other guy friends. Strange. Weird.
He was now living with Cindy at her duplex, and I didn't see much of him. However, he did call me on the phone, though. And I did see him occasionally. For some reason, he wouldn't let go of me, and let me live my life.
After I moved into the new apartment, there was a strange peace coming into to my life. I didn't go out much anymore, and I was really trying to get my life together. The new apartment was in the same complex, actually right across the sidewalk, as my very first apartment. It was like my life was coming full circle.
It was also strange when I found out that a couple of my friends were actually interested in ME, not my friend. Of course, I was not interested in anything other than a friendship with them, and that is what we had developed.
That summer, I spent a lot of time with ME. I started seeing things about myself that I had forgotten. Even though Don was in and out of my life, especially when he was drunk, he didn't have the 100% power he used to have in my life.
He did show up at my apartment drunk in the middle of the night once, parked his motorcycle on my doorstep and passed out. After he left in the morning, my dad called and asked if he was at my apartment because Cindy had called my parents and told them that she thought he was with me. I said he wasn't there, but I didn't offer that he had been there. I was pretty hacked off, though. I told both of them to stop dragging me into the middle of their fights. It was coming to the point where I didn't want any part of it.
I think I was starting to get over it in some small way.
I was going to go out of town for work, and Don agreed to keep the dogs. He was the dog-sitter when I needed him to be. We were almost becoming friends more than anything else. The fact that he was with Cindy wasn't bothering me too much anymore. That's not to say that there weren't times when I felt guilty that I left him because there were those times.
The day I was getting ready to leave and take the dogs over to their house, he called to let me know that he had been in a terrible motorcycle accident that would have left him dead if he hadn't had a helmet on. When I did see him, he looked horrible. But I didn't feel guilty then. He was making these stupid decisions, and I was actually thankful that he wasn't my husband any longer.
One day that summer, I decided to go back to my old church again. A lot had happened in the 6+ years I had been gone, and many people knew about what had gone on in my life during this time. And they prayed for me. I think they probably didn't believe anymore that anything would change for me. Imagine their surprise when I showed up at church that first Sunday morning! It was great.
And I also enrolled in college part-time. I was going to begin pursuing my dream of becoming a teacher! That was so exciting to me because my life had been on hold for so long. I felt like I had been waiting for something to happen, and all those years had passed by with nothing to show for it.
I had sold my truck that spring, finally, so I didn't have to work two jobs. That was also helpful to my life. I was still working at the insurance company, and I was a better employee after my divorce and move.
I spent my time trying to get good grades in my classes instead of wondering if and when Don would call me. I was letting go little by little. Unfortunately, he still had a way of emotionally abusing me when he wanted to.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Even If It Hurts, Move Forward
I think in my heart, I really, REALLY wanted to get over Don. I wanted to move on with my life, be healed and whole. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to do that.
He still called me. He still drove by my apartment on his motorcycle on his way home from work. He still tried to get me to be with him...on his terms. And sometimes, I did it. Sometimes, I was so lonely, and I gave in.
I don't really know why I didn't think I was important enough to have a good life. I do know that I was losing hope that I ever would.
During all this time, and probably for the duration of our marriage, Don had been looking for Cindy, the girlfriend I caught him with back in 1984. I don't think he ever got over her. I don't know what it was about her, except for the addiction cycle. She, too, according to him, was an alcoholic, so they had something in common. I had no sympathy for the girl, though, because she knew what he was, and she kept going back to him for more. Oh, wait! So was I.
Anyway, he found her somehow, and they hooked up again. In the midst of it all, he was still trying to work his tricks on me. And it was working.
It was November, and, as crazy as this sounds now, I had made up my mind that life would never get better for me, that everyone would be better off without me. I had everything all planned out. My doctor had given me anti-depressants, which worked like depressants instead, and I was going to take them all the weekend of Thanksgiving. Now, I obviously didn't give into these demons in my head, which is great, but I thought about it for a long time.
Instead of doing anything foolish, I spent a lot of the weekend with my family. My sister, her friend, and I went to the mall on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, and I was so surprised when I saw him there... with her. I waited until they got past us, and I basically broke down. He didn't even see me, and he walked right by me!
I tried to not think about him and get over my feelings for him.
Each day brought new surprises. One day, he hated me; the next day, he said he made a mistake letting me go. Back and forth constantly with him really left me emotionally spent. I was also going out and drinking a lot. That wasn't helping me recover from my heartache. Even though the physical violence stopped, the emotional abuse was ongoing.
One night, he called and asked if I wanted to come over after he got off work and just stay over with him. I really debated about it because I knew that he was still seeing Cindy. But I did it anyway. I got to his apartment earlier than he did, and I sat in the parking area and waited. Then, Cindy showed up. So, I got out of my truck and went over and talked to her. I told her that he told me to meet him there, and she was drunk. And then he pulled up on his motorcycle. I went back to my truck, and they had a few words, and she left. We went inside, and he was obviously distraught over what took place.
She kept calling. Finally, at 3:00am, he talked to her, and I left. I went straight over to her house, rang her doorbell, and she let me in. We sat down like normal people (and this was NOT a normal situation) and had a two-hour conversation. She told me that he loved her, they were going to get married, blah, blah, blah. And I felt compassion for her because she really believed it. She was just as messed up as I was about him. Neither of us understood that love is not violence.
I decided when we were talking that I was really finished with all of this nonsense. And I really believed myself. After our conversation, I went back to his apartment, and I told him to leave me alone. And I meant it. I told him that I would not talk to him if he called, so to leave me alone. And I left.
Of course, he was calling and leaving messages that night. Ridiculous. I didn't answer for a while, but finally, I did. I reminded him of our conversation earlier that morning, but he didn't seem to remember it... or he wanted to keep me hanging.
In the meantime, my friend (she's the one who had the baby I liked to rock) called me. The father of the baby, her now-husband, had assaulted the baby, and she was in critical care. She was brain dead, and would I please come up there after work. Of course, I did. It was the saddest thing I had ever experienced in my life up to that point. My friend was so upset, too. I took her older girls home with me that day, and they spent the night with me. I took them to my mom's the next morning, and their dad picked them up for school. The baby died.
The funeral was on December 19th... the anniversary of my marriage to Don. It was so sad and something that didn't HAVE to happen.
Our divorce was final the next day. He didn't show up or anything. My friend went with me to court, and just like that, it was done. I was no longer tied to him...at least legally.
Sometime after this, Don received a letter in the mail stating that one of us needed to get a loan to take care of the situation with the Beretta. He was so mad! He couldn't get credit if his life depended on it, so he was hacked off. I stopped over there to look at the letter, and he was so angry that he threw beer in my face when I got there, and I was so upset that he did that, I was crying hysterically. When I got to my parents' house, my nose started bleeding. They thought that he hit me, but I told them he didn't. He just doused me in beer.
Well, I contacted the bank, got a loan, and I had two vehicles with two vehicle payments. I was going to try to sell my truck and get a part-time job to pay both payments. And I was moving out of my little apartment in February and in with one of my "lay-off" friends. I never knew that she was also being abused by her husband whom I thought was just so nice. They had been divorced that year, too. 1989 was not a good year at all for a lot of us. So, she and I decided we could get a really nice place for less than we were both paying, and we wouldn't have to be lonely, either.
I spent the last night of 1989 with my friends who set me up with a guy I had met years before. I had fully expected to have a good time with him because he was such a nice guy. It didn't really matter, though. All I could think about was Don and everything he had done to me. This was not the time for me to get involved with anyone else. It would end up being a disaster. So, 1989 went out quietly with a lot of tears, but I had high expectations for my next year.
I didn't know it, but out there 1,500 miles away from me was a man who had his own set of problems, and our worlds would eventually collide about 16 months later... and it would change everything for both of us.
He still called me. He still drove by my apartment on his motorcycle on his way home from work. He still tried to get me to be with him...on his terms. And sometimes, I did it. Sometimes, I was so lonely, and I gave in.
I don't really know why I didn't think I was important enough to have a good life. I do know that I was losing hope that I ever would.
During all this time, and probably for the duration of our marriage, Don had been looking for Cindy, the girlfriend I caught him with back in 1984. I don't think he ever got over her. I don't know what it was about her, except for the addiction cycle. She, too, according to him, was an alcoholic, so they had something in common. I had no sympathy for the girl, though, because she knew what he was, and she kept going back to him for more. Oh, wait! So was I.
Anyway, he found her somehow, and they hooked up again. In the midst of it all, he was still trying to work his tricks on me. And it was working.
It was November, and, as crazy as this sounds now, I had made up my mind that life would never get better for me, that everyone would be better off without me. I had everything all planned out. My doctor had given me anti-depressants, which worked like depressants instead, and I was going to take them all the weekend of Thanksgiving. Now, I obviously didn't give into these demons in my head, which is great, but I thought about it for a long time.
Instead of doing anything foolish, I spent a lot of the weekend with my family. My sister, her friend, and I went to the mall on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, and I was so surprised when I saw him there... with her. I waited until they got past us, and I basically broke down. He didn't even see me, and he walked right by me!
I tried to not think about him and get over my feelings for him.
Each day brought new surprises. One day, he hated me; the next day, he said he made a mistake letting me go. Back and forth constantly with him really left me emotionally spent. I was also going out and drinking a lot. That wasn't helping me recover from my heartache. Even though the physical violence stopped, the emotional abuse was ongoing.
One night, he called and asked if I wanted to come over after he got off work and just stay over with him. I really debated about it because I knew that he was still seeing Cindy. But I did it anyway. I got to his apartment earlier than he did, and I sat in the parking area and waited. Then, Cindy showed up. So, I got out of my truck and went over and talked to her. I told her that he told me to meet him there, and she was drunk. And then he pulled up on his motorcycle. I went back to my truck, and they had a few words, and she left. We went inside, and he was obviously distraught over what took place.
She kept calling. Finally, at 3:00am, he talked to her, and I left. I went straight over to her house, rang her doorbell, and she let me in. We sat down like normal people (and this was NOT a normal situation) and had a two-hour conversation. She told me that he loved her, they were going to get married, blah, blah, blah. And I felt compassion for her because she really believed it. She was just as messed up as I was about him. Neither of us understood that love is not violence.
I decided when we were talking that I was really finished with all of this nonsense. And I really believed myself. After our conversation, I went back to his apartment, and I told him to leave me alone. And I meant it. I told him that I would not talk to him if he called, so to leave me alone. And I left.
Of course, he was calling and leaving messages that night. Ridiculous. I didn't answer for a while, but finally, I did. I reminded him of our conversation earlier that morning, but he didn't seem to remember it... or he wanted to keep me hanging.
In the meantime, my friend (she's the one who had the baby I liked to rock) called me. The father of the baby, her now-husband, had assaulted the baby, and she was in critical care. She was brain dead, and would I please come up there after work. Of course, I did. It was the saddest thing I had ever experienced in my life up to that point. My friend was so upset, too. I took her older girls home with me that day, and they spent the night with me. I took them to my mom's the next morning, and their dad picked them up for school. The baby died.
The funeral was on December 19th... the anniversary of my marriage to Don. It was so sad and something that didn't HAVE to happen.
Our divorce was final the next day. He didn't show up or anything. My friend went with me to court, and just like that, it was done. I was no longer tied to him...at least legally.
Sometime after this, Don received a letter in the mail stating that one of us needed to get a loan to take care of the situation with the Beretta. He was so mad! He couldn't get credit if his life depended on it, so he was hacked off. I stopped over there to look at the letter, and he was so angry that he threw beer in my face when I got there, and I was so upset that he did that, I was crying hysterically. When I got to my parents' house, my nose started bleeding. They thought that he hit me, but I told them he didn't. He just doused me in beer.
Well, I contacted the bank, got a loan, and I had two vehicles with two vehicle payments. I was going to try to sell my truck and get a part-time job to pay both payments. And I was moving out of my little apartment in February and in with one of my "lay-off" friends. I never knew that she was also being abused by her husband whom I thought was just so nice. They had been divorced that year, too. 1989 was not a good year at all for a lot of us. So, she and I decided we could get a really nice place for less than we were both paying, and we wouldn't have to be lonely, either.
I spent the last night of 1989 with my friends who set me up with a guy I had met years before. I had fully expected to have a good time with him because he was such a nice guy. It didn't really matter, though. All I could think about was Don and everything he had done to me. This was not the time for me to get involved with anyone else. It would end up being a disaster. So, 1989 went out quietly with a lot of tears, but I had high expectations for my next year.
I didn't know it, but out there 1,500 miles away from me was a man who had his own set of problems, and our worlds would eventually collide about 16 months later... and it would change everything for both of us.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
People Don't Change Just Because YOU Want Them To
So, the month of September, I was busy scurrying around, sneaking around and planning my move back in with Don. I didn't tell anyone. But he and I went out and bought a washer, dryer with a new credit account. And we also bought a new car. It was a 1988 Chevrolet Beretta. It was a very cool car! I told him that I didn't want him driving that car if he was drinking, and I don't even remember if he agreed. All I know is that he did go out and drink in that car. And when I found out, it was a done deal for me.
There had been no violence again up until this point, but this is what did it.
It was October. I was gradually moving my belongings in with him (by myself - that should have given me the clue that he really didn't want me there), and I saw the car at the neighborhood bar he went to. It made me so angry!
I stopped in there, told him that it was over, and I was taking the car and giving it back to the bank. And I left in my truck to go to his house to start retrieving my stuff.
By the time I got there and got in, he came speeding into the driveway and ran up the stairs. When he got in, he told me to give him my keys to the car and that I wasn't going to turn it back into the bank. I told him I would not give him the keys, so he basically punched me in the stomach so hard that it knocked the keys right out of my hand. Fortunately, I saw where the door key landed. He had me down the ground, was straddling me so I couldn't get up, and he was yelling at me. I thought You know, I have one chance to hurt him, so I'm gonna take it. And I kicked him in the face. His head turned to the side and back to the front, just like Arnold in The Terminator. He finally let me up again. I guess he figured he got his keys.
I called the police, and they showed up. They saw the hand marks and scratches across my neck, but they said there was no evidence of any wrongdoing. And because my name was not on his lease, and even though my belongings were at his place, I had to leave.
I couldn't believe it!
So, I casually picked up the door key and shoved it in my pocket and went back to my apartment. Unfortunately, he came there after me.
I got out of my apartment and locked the door somehow, and I was walking along the sidewalk to my truck as he was walking along with me and yelling. All of a sudden, he balled up his fist and slammed it into my chest. The impact knocked me backwards and I landed on my back on the ground. Of course, he kept on walking, yelling at me, while I stayed behind.
I stayed home from work the next day and went to the doctor. This was the same doctor who had treated my burns. He just said, "He is bad news, and he's going to hurt you really bad if you don't get away from him."
I knew he was right.
He was "nice enough" to leave his door unlocked, and some of my friends helped me get the rest of my stuff out of the apartment.
I finally talked to two of my best friends about it. One of them already knew from before, but I told the other one, too. And one night, we three were together drinking, and they told me that if I decided I was going back to him again, we couldn't be friends anymore. They just couldn't take seeing what was happening to me. At the time, I thought it was horrible, but that took a lot of guts to do that.
When I finally got my wits about me, I called a friend of mine (from before who knew what was going on), and he drove me to the car dealership. I told them what happened, and they made me a new ignition key. Then, my friend drove me to Don's house where I got out of my friend's car, opened up the car, got in, started it up, and drove it into my friend's garage. I shut the door and called the bank. It had been less than a month since the transaction, and they came and picked up the car.
Unfortunately for me, Don had left a lot of things in the car...his wallet, his clothes and his loaded gun.
The Receptionist at my office, along with my boss and some other people, knew what was going on, and she alerted me when he called the office looking for me. Another friend was going out of town that weekend, and she loaned me her car to drive and I was staying at her place instead of my own. My truck was locked up in our friends' garage.
Oh, I'm sure he was so angry!
When the Receptionist called and told me she thought he would be coming up to the office, I immediately left. He was there looking for me right afterward. It was a good thing I got away when I did.
His mom called my answering machine and left a message for me to call her. I did call, and she said she would meet me to get his things. I had no problem with that. So, I did. I took a friend, had my friend give her the bag, and she left.
WOW. Looking back at this, I seriously cannot believe it.
There had been no violence again up until this point, but this is what did it.
It was October. I was gradually moving my belongings in with him (by myself - that should have given me the clue that he really didn't want me there), and I saw the car at the neighborhood bar he went to. It made me so angry!
I stopped in there, told him that it was over, and I was taking the car and giving it back to the bank. And I left in my truck to go to his house to start retrieving my stuff.
By the time I got there and got in, he came speeding into the driveway and ran up the stairs. When he got in, he told me to give him my keys to the car and that I wasn't going to turn it back into the bank. I told him I would not give him the keys, so he basically punched me in the stomach so hard that it knocked the keys right out of my hand. Fortunately, I saw where the door key landed. He had me down the ground, was straddling me so I couldn't get up, and he was yelling at me. I thought You know, I have one chance to hurt him, so I'm gonna take it. And I kicked him in the face. His head turned to the side and back to the front, just like Arnold in The Terminator. He finally let me up again. I guess he figured he got his keys.
I called the police, and they showed up. They saw the hand marks and scratches across my neck, but they said there was no evidence of any wrongdoing. And because my name was not on his lease, and even though my belongings were at his place, I had to leave.
I couldn't believe it!
So, I casually picked up the door key and shoved it in my pocket and went back to my apartment. Unfortunately, he came there after me.
I got out of my apartment and locked the door somehow, and I was walking along the sidewalk to my truck as he was walking along with me and yelling. All of a sudden, he balled up his fist and slammed it into my chest. The impact knocked me backwards and I landed on my back on the ground. Of course, he kept on walking, yelling at me, while I stayed behind.
I stayed home from work the next day and went to the doctor. This was the same doctor who had treated my burns. He just said, "He is bad news, and he's going to hurt you really bad if you don't get away from him."
I knew he was right.
He was "nice enough" to leave his door unlocked, and some of my friends helped me get the rest of my stuff out of the apartment.
I finally talked to two of my best friends about it. One of them already knew from before, but I told the other one, too. And one night, we three were together drinking, and they told me that if I decided I was going back to him again, we couldn't be friends anymore. They just couldn't take seeing what was happening to me. At the time, I thought it was horrible, but that took a lot of guts to do that.
When I finally got my wits about me, I called a friend of mine (from before who knew what was going on), and he drove me to the car dealership. I told them what happened, and they made me a new ignition key. Then, my friend drove me to Don's house where I got out of my friend's car, opened up the car, got in, started it up, and drove it into my friend's garage. I shut the door and called the bank. It had been less than a month since the transaction, and they came and picked up the car.
Unfortunately for me, Don had left a lot of things in the car...his wallet, his clothes and his loaded gun.
The Receptionist at my office, along with my boss and some other people, knew what was going on, and she alerted me when he called the office looking for me. Another friend was going out of town that weekend, and she loaned me her car to drive and I was staying at her place instead of my own. My truck was locked up in our friends' garage.
Oh, I'm sure he was so angry!
When the Receptionist called and told me she thought he would be coming up to the office, I immediately left. He was there looking for me right afterward. It was a good thing I got away when I did.
His mom called my answering machine and left a message for me to call her. I did call, and she said she would meet me to get his things. I had no problem with that. So, I did. I took a friend, had my friend give her the bag, and she left.
WOW. Looking back at this, I seriously cannot believe it.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Leaving is the Easy Part... Staying Gone is Hard
I went to the new apartment with the moving truck, and really, the apartment was probably the nicest place I had lived in the past few years. It had this great new mauve carpet (yes, it was the 80's!), and a cedar wall when you first walked in the door. And the best part of all of it was that it was MINE. I didn't have to worry about someone throwing me through the wall there.
After getting some things done there, I went to my parents' to get the dogs and my laundry. My parents were very relieved that I finally got out of there, and I was, too. There was a part of me, though, that was panicking because I had just left behind everything I knew. I was getting nervous thinking about what might be going on in the old place, like some wild party or something.
I had spoken with the landlords before I left that day and told them what was going on. It was really the first time I had told people I didn't know well that my husband beat me. They were going to let me out of the lease (he wasn't even on the paperwork because he didn't have a job), but I had to forfeit the deposit. Oh well, this happened all the time to me. I told them we would fix the wall, too.
After leaving my parents, I went over to the old place. It wasn't far from their house. He and B were sitting in the living room, and he wouldn't answer the door. He just ignored me ringing the bell (I left my keys). I could tell he was pretty angry, but I think he was relieved, too. He obviously did not want to be married to me or anyone. If he would have cared, he wouldn't have cheated on me over and over again.
I went back to my apartment and didn't get a lot of sleep. I think I cried a lot.
It's really weird when you leave a situation like that. 50% of you is totally relieved, but the other 50% of you is scared, panicked and you don't really know where to go from there. It's like being on a scale with 50% on one side and 50% on the other side. Every now and then, 5% goes to the other side, and you start leaning towards going back. Then, reason gets a hold of you, and 10% goes to the other side, and you said there is no way you will go back...unless he... (fill in the blank).
I think it takes a long time for your life to become what it's really supposed to be. You have your love, obsession, whatever you might call it, for this person who has systematically attempted to destroy your life and everything you hold dear. And then you have this part of you who wants to rise up and stand up for yourself and your beliefs and protect whatever you have left and start building on it.
I was a mess. One of my friends who got laid off when I did at the Savings and Loan had a newborn baby, and went over to her place and rocked that baby a lot during this time. It was great therapy for me because I realized that having a baby could finally become my reality. I could have a good life with a good man, and it would change my life. Now, my friend's life was really no piece of cake, and they guy she was with was a juvenile delinquent. Seriously...
Don and I cleaned the duplex together, and I found out that he had invited women over to, well, you know, after I left. He was in the middle of his downward spiral. The morning I went over, I can't even believe this, I started drinking beer in the morning. Early. And I cried. Finally, around 10 or 11am, I was finished, and I left and went home to bed. It was all I could do.
And there he was, begging me again for another chance. He was probably scared of what he was going to do, but I told him no. I think I held up fairly well some of the time, but I blew it other times. After all, he was still my husband. I still felt something for him, and I called it love at the time. Now, I think it was pity.
He went to stay with our friend (who was our rescuer) and her sister in their apartment. My parents gave me the money for a retainer fee for an attorney. I filed the papers, and he was served. He called my answering machine over and over again, crying, trying to get a hold of me. I don't think he thought I was serious about this. I had to get away from this situation that was sucking the life out of me.
My friend (B's ex-wife) and I decided to spend Labor Day weekend in Kansas City together. We hadn't spent any time together since all of these things happened. In fact, she wasn't really talking to me for a while. I called her after I left, and we had a good conversation and decided to meet up and spend the weekend doing something fun. I had met a guy when I was out one night, and he and his friend were going to take me and my friend out for a night on the town. I can't even believe now that I would do something like that because it's dangerous! Good grief.
My friends lived there, and we were going to stay at their house while they stayed at my apartment because they were visiting relatives there. I know...it was strange!
We think the guys drugged my friend, but I didn't drink at all that weekend. I had to stay in control and coherent because the rest of them were messed up.
When I got back in town, I made sure to stop by Don's place of work. He finally got a job, and I had to rub it in about having a good time WITHOUT HIM. He was very upset, and he called me constantly that night. I tried to go to bed early, and he kept calling and calling. I finally agreed to him coming over after he got off work, and he spent the rest of the night at my apartment.
He had begun his web of getting me to go back to him. You know, if he didn't want me anyway, why would he keep trying to get me back? So, he must have wanted me, right?
We started seeing each other on a consistent basis, and he was being decent to me, not showing any type of violence. He only showed remorse for what happened, and he kept saying he wanted me back. He was just were I wanted him, but I didn't really know if he was what I wanted. But I kept playing the game with him.
He asked me to move in with him in his new place, and I thought about it. I said I would.
You might be reading this and think, "Are you crazy?"
And I would answer that I probably was.
Fortunately for me, God was still watching out for me. In going back to him, I would have been destroying my life. And I knew that, but I kept thinking that maybe he had changed somehow. Maybe I hoped that he had, but I knew that he hadn't.
I never got fully moved in with him because I was stopped by reality.
After getting some things done there, I went to my parents' to get the dogs and my laundry. My parents were very relieved that I finally got out of there, and I was, too. There was a part of me, though, that was panicking because I had just left behind everything I knew. I was getting nervous thinking about what might be going on in the old place, like some wild party or something.
I had spoken with the landlords before I left that day and told them what was going on. It was really the first time I had told people I didn't know well that my husband beat me. They were going to let me out of the lease (he wasn't even on the paperwork because he didn't have a job), but I had to forfeit the deposit. Oh well, this happened all the time to me. I told them we would fix the wall, too.
After leaving my parents, I went over to the old place. It wasn't far from their house. He and B were sitting in the living room, and he wouldn't answer the door. He just ignored me ringing the bell (I left my keys). I could tell he was pretty angry, but I think he was relieved, too. He obviously did not want to be married to me or anyone. If he would have cared, he wouldn't have cheated on me over and over again.
I went back to my apartment and didn't get a lot of sleep. I think I cried a lot.
It's really weird when you leave a situation like that. 50% of you is totally relieved, but the other 50% of you is scared, panicked and you don't really know where to go from there. It's like being on a scale with 50% on one side and 50% on the other side. Every now and then, 5% goes to the other side, and you start leaning towards going back. Then, reason gets a hold of you, and 10% goes to the other side, and you said there is no way you will go back...unless he... (fill in the blank).
I think it takes a long time for your life to become what it's really supposed to be. You have your love, obsession, whatever you might call it, for this person who has systematically attempted to destroy your life and everything you hold dear. And then you have this part of you who wants to rise up and stand up for yourself and your beliefs and protect whatever you have left and start building on it.
I was a mess. One of my friends who got laid off when I did at the Savings and Loan had a newborn baby, and went over to her place and rocked that baby a lot during this time. It was great therapy for me because I realized that having a baby could finally become my reality. I could have a good life with a good man, and it would change my life. Now, my friend's life was really no piece of cake, and they guy she was with was a juvenile delinquent. Seriously...
Don and I cleaned the duplex together, and I found out that he had invited women over to, well, you know, after I left. He was in the middle of his downward spiral. The morning I went over, I can't even believe this, I started drinking beer in the morning. Early. And I cried. Finally, around 10 or 11am, I was finished, and I left and went home to bed. It was all I could do.
And there he was, begging me again for another chance. He was probably scared of what he was going to do, but I told him no. I think I held up fairly well some of the time, but I blew it other times. After all, he was still my husband. I still felt something for him, and I called it love at the time. Now, I think it was pity.
He went to stay with our friend (who was our rescuer) and her sister in their apartment. My parents gave me the money for a retainer fee for an attorney. I filed the papers, and he was served. He called my answering machine over and over again, crying, trying to get a hold of me. I don't think he thought I was serious about this. I had to get away from this situation that was sucking the life out of me.
My friend (B's ex-wife) and I decided to spend Labor Day weekend in Kansas City together. We hadn't spent any time together since all of these things happened. In fact, she wasn't really talking to me for a while. I called her after I left, and we had a good conversation and decided to meet up and spend the weekend doing something fun. I had met a guy when I was out one night, and he and his friend were going to take me and my friend out for a night on the town. I can't even believe now that I would do something like that because it's dangerous! Good grief.
My friends lived there, and we were going to stay at their house while they stayed at my apartment because they were visiting relatives there. I know...it was strange!
We think the guys drugged my friend, but I didn't drink at all that weekend. I had to stay in control and coherent because the rest of them were messed up.
When I got back in town, I made sure to stop by Don's place of work. He finally got a job, and I had to rub it in about having a good time WITHOUT HIM. He was very upset, and he called me constantly that night. I tried to go to bed early, and he kept calling and calling. I finally agreed to him coming over after he got off work, and he spent the rest of the night at my apartment.
He had begun his web of getting me to go back to him. You know, if he didn't want me anyway, why would he keep trying to get me back? So, he must have wanted me, right?
We started seeing each other on a consistent basis, and he was being decent to me, not showing any type of violence. He only showed remorse for what happened, and he kept saying he wanted me back. He was just were I wanted him, but I didn't really know if he was what I wanted. But I kept playing the game with him.
He asked me to move in with him in his new place, and I thought about it. I said I would.
You might be reading this and think, "Are you crazy?"
And I would answer that I probably was.
Fortunately for me, God was still watching out for me. In going back to him, I would have been destroying my life. And I knew that, but I kept thinking that maybe he had changed somehow. Maybe I hoped that he had, but I knew that he hadn't.
I never got fully moved in with him because I was stopped by reality.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Beginning of the End
I started my new job at the end of January 1989. There was something about it that made me feel that I was actually valued, and I worked really hard. My hours were 7am-4pm, which was totally different than any job I'd had before. I liked it a lot.
My friend had finally divorced her husband after he tried to kill her in their small town. The town had a restraining order on him, and she finally felt safe. We hadn't spoken for quite some time, and when we did get in touch again, it was like old times between us. She made plans to come spend the weekend with me in April (why did it seem like everything happened in April?).
The night before she was coming, and I had also had planned a Tupperware party for that next morning, when I got home from work, Don was gone. He had also taken some clothes and his personal items, so he was obviously spending the night out.
He had actually been hired to clean a fitness club at night, so I knew he would be at work that night. Or I thought he would be. Apparently, after calling up there, I found out that he had taken the night off. He also left the motorcycle at home, so I knew he was with someone. He was with a girl he met working out at the fitness club. Her name was Barbara. Of course, I didn't find this out until later.
He had also taken his sisters and mom into the restaurant that she worked in to eat lunch and introduce her to them. And they didn't say it was wrong. No one stood up for me at all. But again, I didn't know these things until later.
I alternated between sleeping and watching tv all night long. I thought maybe he would show up sometime during the night, but he didn't.
The next morning, I was getting ready for the party, my friend got there, and right before my sister came over, I looked out of our second story window and saw him walking down the street towards home with his duffel bag. There was going to be no time to grill him or accuse him because of the party.
He came in with a sick grin on his face and went straight to bed. I hosted my party.
My friend had some friends who were meeting her at the neighborhood bar that night, and we were going to go. I needed to take a nap before we left, though, because of not sleeping the night before. I laid down for a while, and at one point, he rolled over and whispered in my ear to see if I was awake. I faked being asleep, and he said, "I never meant to hurt you."
I knew then that our relationship was over. I knew that something had happened with someone, and he even sounded believable when he said he didn't mean to hurt me. But he did hurt me. And I didn't know what to do.
In all honesty, I can't remember all of the details of how I found out about her, but this was just the beginning of the deception, lies and affairs.
We moved into a duplex, and I don't even know why I moved with him again. I think maybe I always thought we would have a new start each time we moved. Unfortunately, it was the same every place we went...because HE was the same every place we went. And so was I. And I had been a victim to him for a very long time. And I was sick of it.
After we moved, my friend's ex-husband got a hold of him again. This was after he lost his job at the fitness club. That was his track record...working for a couple of months and getting fired or walking away from the job. It's just what he did.
Well, let's call him "B," came back into town, and they started hanging around together again. This time, B was staying with his sister and brother-in-law and their kids. They were going on vacation, and Don spent a lot of time over there. He was actually having a sexual relationship with a 17 year old girl who had been in my home and met me on a couple of occasions. And the reason I know this is because...
One Friday night, Don went over there for the evening while the family was on vacation. I went to bed, just like I always did, and the phone rang at 3:00 am. It was B. He told me that Don was with the girl, and I should get over there if I wanted to catch him in the act. I left my pajamas on, and I drove like a fool over to the house. I rang the doorbell, B let me in, and Don knew I was there at that point. I saw him coming out of the bathroom near the master bedroom, and I asked him what he thought he was doing, as he didn't have all of his clothes on, and he did his little smirk, and I pushed him down a couple of steps and made my way into the master bedroom where I found this girl hiding in the closet with his shirt on. Well, I said a few choice words to her, and then I headed out of there.
B had told me not to tell Don that he's the one who called me, but Don followed me to the car, yelling at me (oh my gosh!), and I said, "Do you think I would just show up over here in the middle of the night? B called me!" Oh, that made him mad, and B denied it, told us both to get out of there, and I went home. This was the day, or night, that I started packing and unpacking my belongings.
I think I had everything pretty much packed up in a couple of hours, and I was sitting in the middle of my boxes when he got home. He beat the crap out of me. He hit me in the head and broke my glasses, and he knocked my dresser over and put a crack in it. There are words for people like him, and I'm not going to say them here because you know what I'm talking about.
I did go to bed, finally, and he slept on the couch next to the door. He wasn't going to let me leave. When I got up, he was right there. When the phone rang, he was right there. He didn't let me out of his sight. I finally talked him into letting me leave for a while to go to my friend's house for a while, and I think this was when I finally told her what was going on all those years. I hadn't really talked about it with anyone up to that point, but I finally did. And I was very glad.
I started making my plans for an escape around this time, too. I talked to my parents about it, and they said to let them know when I was ready, and they would help me. I kept changing my mind, packing, unpacking, packing.... And I was calling about apartments and even going to look at them.
One Friday night, he was headed over to B's house again, and I stood in front of the door and told him he wasn't going anywhere. I was 5'3", 140 lbs. He was 6'2", 220 lbs of muscle. He argued with me, and I argued back, and he picked me up and threw me through the wall. There was seriously an imprint of my body in the wall, and my fingers were bent back on my left hand when I fell to the floor. He leaned down and yelled, "Look what you've done to the wall!" And he left.
The time was nearing. It just had to be the right time.
Tuesday, I went home at lunch, and he wasn't there. I didn't really expect that he would be. But there was hairspray in my bathroom that wasn't mine. Today was the day.
I made a call to my boss and told her what happened. She gave me the rest of the day off. I called the apartment complex and got into my new apartment. I called my dad, and he called a moving company to meet me at 3:00 to pack me up and move me. And he called a security guard, too. My mom picked up my laundry and dogs, and the rest was up to me.
The movers got there and started loading everything up. The security guard stayed in the garage watching the area, and my mom, sister and I were packing up everything. Don came into the house, asked where his motorcycle keys were, picked them up, and he walked right back out again.
And just like that, it was a done deal. I had a great new place close to work, clean laundry, a new start, and I was hyped up on adrenaline. Let's face it; I had been a victim long enough, and enough is enough.
The thing I did not know was that my heart couldn't let go that quickly. And it was going to take a long time because this was me... remember me?
Addiction, obsession, failure, and guilt.
My friend had finally divorced her husband after he tried to kill her in their small town. The town had a restraining order on him, and she finally felt safe. We hadn't spoken for quite some time, and when we did get in touch again, it was like old times between us. She made plans to come spend the weekend with me in April (why did it seem like everything happened in April?).
The night before she was coming, and I had also had planned a Tupperware party for that next morning, when I got home from work, Don was gone. He had also taken some clothes and his personal items, so he was obviously spending the night out.
He had actually been hired to clean a fitness club at night, so I knew he would be at work that night. Or I thought he would be. Apparently, after calling up there, I found out that he had taken the night off. He also left the motorcycle at home, so I knew he was with someone. He was with a girl he met working out at the fitness club. Her name was Barbara. Of course, I didn't find this out until later.
He had also taken his sisters and mom into the restaurant that she worked in to eat lunch and introduce her to them. And they didn't say it was wrong. No one stood up for me at all. But again, I didn't know these things until later.
I alternated between sleeping and watching tv all night long. I thought maybe he would show up sometime during the night, but he didn't.
The next morning, I was getting ready for the party, my friend got there, and right before my sister came over, I looked out of our second story window and saw him walking down the street towards home with his duffel bag. There was going to be no time to grill him or accuse him because of the party.
He came in with a sick grin on his face and went straight to bed. I hosted my party.
My friend had some friends who were meeting her at the neighborhood bar that night, and we were going to go. I needed to take a nap before we left, though, because of not sleeping the night before. I laid down for a while, and at one point, he rolled over and whispered in my ear to see if I was awake. I faked being asleep, and he said, "I never meant to hurt you."
I knew then that our relationship was over. I knew that something had happened with someone, and he even sounded believable when he said he didn't mean to hurt me. But he did hurt me. And I didn't know what to do.
In all honesty, I can't remember all of the details of how I found out about her, but this was just the beginning of the deception, lies and affairs.
We moved into a duplex, and I don't even know why I moved with him again. I think maybe I always thought we would have a new start each time we moved. Unfortunately, it was the same every place we went...because HE was the same every place we went. And so was I. And I had been a victim to him for a very long time. And I was sick of it.
After we moved, my friend's ex-husband got a hold of him again. This was after he lost his job at the fitness club. That was his track record...working for a couple of months and getting fired or walking away from the job. It's just what he did.
Well, let's call him "B," came back into town, and they started hanging around together again. This time, B was staying with his sister and brother-in-law and their kids. They were going on vacation, and Don spent a lot of time over there. He was actually having a sexual relationship with a 17 year old girl who had been in my home and met me on a couple of occasions. And the reason I know this is because...
One Friday night, Don went over there for the evening while the family was on vacation. I went to bed, just like I always did, and the phone rang at 3:00 am. It was B. He told me that Don was with the girl, and I should get over there if I wanted to catch him in the act. I left my pajamas on, and I drove like a fool over to the house. I rang the doorbell, B let me in, and Don knew I was there at that point. I saw him coming out of the bathroom near the master bedroom, and I asked him what he thought he was doing, as he didn't have all of his clothes on, and he did his little smirk, and I pushed him down a couple of steps and made my way into the master bedroom where I found this girl hiding in the closet with his shirt on. Well, I said a few choice words to her, and then I headed out of there.
B had told me not to tell Don that he's the one who called me, but Don followed me to the car, yelling at me (oh my gosh!), and I said, "Do you think I would just show up over here in the middle of the night? B called me!" Oh, that made him mad, and B denied it, told us both to get out of there, and I went home. This was the day, or night, that I started packing and unpacking my belongings.
I think I had everything pretty much packed up in a couple of hours, and I was sitting in the middle of my boxes when he got home. He beat the crap out of me. He hit me in the head and broke my glasses, and he knocked my dresser over and put a crack in it. There are words for people like him, and I'm not going to say them here because you know what I'm talking about.
I did go to bed, finally, and he slept on the couch next to the door. He wasn't going to let me leave. When I got up, he was right there. When the phone rang, he was right there. He didn't let me out of his sight. I finally talked him into letting me leave for a while to go to my friend's house for a while, and I think this was when I finally told her what was going on all those years. I hadn't really talked about it with anyone up to that point, but I finally did. And I was very glad.
I started making my plans for an escape around this time, too. I talked to my parents about it, and they said to let them know when I was ready, and they would help me. I kept changing my mind, packing, unpacking, packing.... And I was calling about apartments and even going to look at them.
One Friday night, he was headed over to B's house again, and I stood in front of the door and told him he wasn't going anywhere. I was 5'3", 140 lbs. He was 6'2", 220 lbs of muscle. He argued with me, and I argued back, and he picked me up and threw me through the wall. There was seriously an imprint of my body in the wall, and my fingers were bent back on my left hand when I fell to the floor. He leaned down and yelled, "Look what you've done to the wall!" And he left.
The time was nearing. It just had to be the right time.
Tuesday, I went home at lunch, and he wasn't there. I didn't really expect that he would be. But there was hairspray in my bathroom that wasn't mine. Today was the day.
I made a call to my boss and told her what happened. She gave me the rest of the day off. I called the apartment complex and got into my new apartment. I called my dad, and he called a moving company to meet me at 3:00 to pack me up and move me. And he called a security guard, too. My mom picked up my laundry and dogs, and the rest was up to me.
The movers got there and started loading everything up. The security guard stayed in the garage watching the area, and my mom, sister and I were packing up everything. Don came into the house, asked where his motorcycle keys were, picked them up, and he walked right back out again.
And just like that, it was a done deal. I had a great new place close to work, clean laundry, a new start, and I was hyped up on adrenaline. Let's face it; I had been a victim long enough, and enough is enough.
The thing I did not know was that my heart couldn't let go that quickly. And it was going to take a long time because this was me... remember me?
Addiction, obsession, failure, and guilt.
Standing Up for Myself
The rest of 1988 was really a blur. I do know that his mom gave the gun back to him. I know that he, in a drunken rage one night, got on his motorcycle with his loaded gun and drove away after threatening to kill my parents. And I called the police. They came out, but they were no help. I had marks all over me, and they wouldn't take him to jail.
Really, I think everything was escalating. Looking back now, I can see that things were unraveling completely. My friend and her husband moved away, which was probably good for the guys. She and I spent many nights driving around looking for them in bad parts of town in a black truck with no air conditioning with the windows rolled up in the middle of the night.
Again, addiction and obsession. Man, it was bad.
I had also began a new and what was supposed to be a better job that summer, but it wasn't. I felt like I was being abused there at work and at home. At the end of that year, I started looking for another job. And I found one!
In 1989, my life started taking another turn, and it was going to be a long and windy road. But it was going to be a life-changing road.
Really, I think everything was escalating. Looking back now, I can see that things were unraveling completely. My friend and her husband moved away, which was probably good for the guys. She and I spent many nights driving around looking for them in bad parts of town in a black truck with no air conditioning with the windows rolled up in the middle of the night.
Again, addiction and obsession. Man, it was bad.
I had also began a new and what was supposed to be a better job that summer, but it wasn't. I felt like I was being abused there at work and at home. At the end of that year, I started looking for another job. And I found one!
In 1989, my life started taking another turn, and it was going to be a long and windy road. But it was going to be a life-changing road.
Innocent People and Guns
So, I started working at the CPA firm, and it was a good job, too! I worked a lot of hours, including Saturdays, but I also had a vehicle to drive. That helped. I met some great people at that place who helped me and didn't even know it.
Sometime that next spring, I had a terrible feeling when I was at work one day. Don had taken me to work, and he had my truck. I called my friend (who was now married to the guy who pushed her down the stairs and lived in my little first apartment with me).
We think that the two of those guys (husbands) had some sort of sick connection. They were constantly getting into trouble together, her husband did drugs and women, and mine did alcohol and women. They were both seriously abusive, and he was getting worse with her than ever.
There was a point when I had the burn on my leg that they were at our apartment, and her husband got mad at her and slammed his fist into her face right in front of us. Her teeth almost went all the way through her cheek. It really shook Don up, and he got her out of there as there was blood was going everywhere. I think it shook her husband up, too. Neither of them changed, though.
She came and picked me up, and we went to my house. Of course, my truck was not there. We went to the apartment complex we lived at the time of the bloody cheek incident, and my truck was in the parking lot. Our husbands were in the swimming suits by the pool with some women. I told her I was going to take my truck, and I did. I got out of the car, as the guys watched, and I threw their belongings on the ground. I got in and drove home, but I parked on another street. I knew it would take him a while to get there. And I waited. I stayed on the floor behind the bed as I heard him come and get his stuff and leave again.
I felt bad (what was wrong with me????), and I drove to find them. When I did see him, he started yelling all sorts of profanity at me and calling me names. I finally went back home. I was very upset and crying. I should have known he wouldn't change! He was still doing the exact same things he had always done.
This finally blew over, I went and picked him up later that night, and things were back to "normal."
Sometime during the time I worked at the CPA office, he picked me up from work when he was drunk. On the way home, someone was tailgating him, and it angered him. So he started chasing the guy. We were going fast. We drove by our street to get home, and I was begging him to just go home, and he told me to shut the ______ up, hit me, opened up the glove box and pulled out his loaded gun. And he started driving faster.
I kept hoping the police would pull him over as he was going very fast throughout the city. That guy must have been scared; I would have been! When the guy got into his driveway, he jumped out of his car and ran to the porch as Don shot at him six times. And we sped away.
I was scared to death! I didn't know what to do, so I just held onto the door handle and prayed that we would make it home okay. Should I turn him into the police? If I did, they wouldn't believe me anyway. And then he would come after me when he wouldn't be arrested, and he would kill me. What should I do?
When we finally got home, I took the gun and left when he was in the bathroom and went to his mom's. We sat out on her porch, and I told her what happened that night. She couldn't believe it either, and I asked her to keep the gun because I was scared. She agreed to do it. When I got home, I told him the gun was in his mom's possession now.
Was that guy hit? Did he call the police? Did he get my license tag on my truck? It was registered to me! I didn't know what to do, and I was scared to death.
Sometime that next spring, I had a terrible feeling when I was at work one day. Don had taken me to work, and he had my truck. I called my friend (who was now married to the guy who pushed her down the stairs and lived in my little first apartment with me).
We think that the two of those guys (husbands) had some sort of sick connection. They were constantly getting into trouble together, her husband did drugs and women, and mine did alcohol and women. They were both seriously abusive, and he was getting worse with her than ever.
There was a point when I had the burn on my leg that they were at our apartment, and her husband got mad at her and slammed his fist into her face right in front of us. Her teeth almost went all the way through her cheek. It really shook Don up, and he got her out of there as there was blood was going everywhere. I think it shook her husband up, too. Neither of them changed, though.
She came and picked me up, and we went to my house. Of course, my truck was not there. We went to the apartment complex we lived at the time of the bloody cheek incident, and my truck was in the parking lot. Our husbands were in the swimming suits by the pool with some women. I told her I was going to take my truck, and I did. I got out of the car, as the guys watched, and I threw their belongings on the ground. I got in and drove home, but I parked on another street. I knew it would take him a while to get there. And I waited. I stayed on the floor behind the bed as I heard him come and get his stuff and leave again.
I felt bad (what was wrong with me????), and I drove to find them. When I did see him, he started yelling all sorts of profanity at me and calling me names. I finally went back home. I was very upset and crying. I should have known he wouldn't change! He was still doing the exact same things he had always done.
This finally blew over, I went and picked him up later that night, and things were back to "normal."
Sometime during the time I worked at the CPA office, he picked me up from work when he was drunk. On the way home, someone was tailgating him, and it angered him. So he started chasing the guy. We were going fast. We drove by our street to get home, and I was begging him to just go home, and he told me to shut the ______ up, hit me, opened up the glove box and pulled out his loaded gun. And he started driving faster.
I kept hoping the police would pull him over as he was going very fast throughout the city. That guy must have been scared; I would have been! When the guy got into his driveway, he jumped out of his car and ran to the porch as Don shot at him six times. And we sped away.
I was scared to death! I didn't know what to do, so I just held onto the door handle and prayed that we would make it home okay. Should I turn him into the police? If I did, they wouldn't believe me anyway. And then he would come after me when he wouldn't be arrested, and he would kill me. What should I do?
When we finally got home, I took the gun and left when he was in the bathroom and went to his mom's. We sat out on her porch, and I told her what happened that night. She couldn't believe it either, and I asked her to keep the gun because I was scared. She agreed to do it. When I got home, I told him the gun was in his mom's possession now.
Was that guy hit? Did he call the police? Did he get my license tag on my truck? It was registered to me! I didn't know what to do, and I was scared to death.
The Door on Mediocre is Closing
My friends and family tried to support me and Don. In fact, my friends from work gave me a wedding shower, and so did my church I grew up in. It didn't really matter to him, though. He still kept taking and taking.
Little did I know, I wasn't alone at work in my situation of being with an abusive man. There were at least three other women I worked with that were in similar situations. Unfortunately, we didn't discuss it much. One of my friends came to work with sunglasses on several times because of blackened eyes. We did talk about it then, and we were all telling her to get out of there. They had two little girls, but strangely enough, he didn't touch them. Only her.
I knew that I didn't expect my home life to be so difficult forever. I hoped that he would change, but I was beginning to want more for my life than mediocre. Work was great, and I put everything I was into what I was doing there. I learned a lot, and I expected a lot out of myself.
That September, five of us were called into our manager's office. We were laid off. It was the beginning of the end for the savings and loan mortgage department. I couldn't believe that I was one of the people who lost her job. I was absolutely devastated! This job had meant so much to me and had given me great opportunities. I voiced my dislike to our manager, and he was just sick. Literally. This wonderful manager we had, the one who believed in me and gave me a chance, he was physically ill after telling us the news.
I was working for the underwriter, and I knew things that the other girl who worked with us didn't know. But she had a college degree, and I didn't. So, there you go!
They did give us a severance package, which was good. It only took me two weeks to find a job because my supervisor wrote a letter of recommendation for me. He even typed it himself on a typewriter/computer he knew absolutely nothing about. But he insisted he do it himself. He was very upset, too.
It was time to change jobs to a CPA office. I really needed to buy a car. And, thank goodness, I did qualify, probably barely, for one. I bought myself a truck, and it gave me some freedom I didn't have before.
I knew if I needed to get away from Don, I could get in my truck and drive away. I think it might have been then that I started seriously considering divorcing him and staying away from him forever. It was less than a year into our marriage and almost four years with him. I was wondering why I married him anyway.
Being in the business world, I saw men out there who did not behave the way Don did. I saw men with goals and expectations in life that were not so low. Hanging around people like that, I realized that maybe my life didn't have to be like this.
Little did I know, I wasn't alone at work in my situation of being with an abusive man. There were at least three other women I worked with that were in similar situations. Unfortunately, we didn't discuss it much. One of my friends came to work with sunglasses on several times because of blackened eyes. We did talk about it then, and we were all telling her to get out of there. They had two little girls, but strangely enough, he didn't touch them. Only her.
I knew that I didn't expect my home life to be so difficult forever. I hoped that he would change, but I was beginning to want more for my life than mediocre. Work was great, and I put everything I was into what I was doing there. I learned a lot, and I expected a lot out of myself.
That September, five of us were called into our manager's office. We were laid off. It was the beginning of the end for the savings and loan mortgage department. I couldn't believe that I was one of the people who lost her job. I was absolutely devastated! This job had meant so much to me and had given me great opportunities. I voiced my dislike to our manager, and he was just sick. Literally. This wonderful manager we had, the one who believed in me and gave me a chance, he was physically ill after telling us the news.
I was working for the underwriter, and I knew things that the other girl who worked with us didn't know. But she had a college degree, and I didn't. So, there you go!
They did give us a severance package, which was good. It only took me two weeks to find a job because my supervisor wrote a letter of recommendation for me. He even typed it himself on a typewriter/computer he knew absolutely nothing about. But he insisted he do it himself. He was very upset, too.
It was time to change jobs to a CPA office. I really needed to buy a car. And, thank goodness, I did qualify, probably barely, for one. I bought myself a truck, and it gave me some freedom I didn't have before.
I knew if I needed to get away from Don, I could get in my truck and drive away. I think it might have been then that I started seriously considering divorcing him and staying away from him forever. It was less than a year into our marriage and almost four years with him. I was wondering why I married him anyway.
Being in the business world, I saw men out there who did not behave the way Don did. I saw men with goals and expectations in life that were not so low. Hanging around people like that, I realized that maybe my life didn't have to be like this.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
A Change is Coming
My parents let me get my clothes the next day, and my friend and her husband helped me get my furniture and everything out that weekend.
My relationship with my parents was once again marred. My relationship with Don was better. And I think I ignored my relationship with myself and just kept on keeping on.
There was a birthday party for my neice, his sister's little baby, in October. He didn't think we should go, which was rude, and they lived right down the street from us. But he didn't want to get out of bed, so we hadn't shown up at the party when it started. His sister came down to get us.
When we got over there, a surprise guest was there.... the girl who had also been invited to the wedding and sat at the family table! Seriously, I couldn't believe it. This time, though, I didn't blame him for it because I knew it was his sister who invited her.
We had some major issues come up again, as always. We had some major fighting again, as always. But we were still getting married on December 19th. We were going to the Justice of the Peace, he was going to marry us, and it was going to be a done deal.
So, we got married on December 19th at the courthouse. My dad said he would come, but I misunderstood him and didn't call him back. None of my family was there; it was only his who came. He seemed to be happy getting married to me, but I guess he wasn't.
I didn't know that over the next few years, he would blame me and say I tricked him into marrying me. And now, some 20 years later, he's saying he "endured a pointless marriage." I think he forgot that he begged me to come back to him... because he was definitely not thankful I was with him. However, I wanted to be with someone so badly, I let him do these things to me in the name of "love." Well, I can tell you this. It was NOT love!
Love is patient and kind, and his side of our relationship was anything but that. Yes, he was kind to me sometimes, but you never knew when he would blow his stack and do or say something heinous to me.
He refused to get a job, and he stayed up all night long looking at pornography. And he continued to drink beer.
I could go into all kinds of detail about what happened during this time, but I won't. It's because it's all the same! Same story, different day.
I was still riding the bus to and from work, I was still supporting us, I was still ignorning the facts (but now I was actually married to him), and he was still doing nothing.
We had to move out of the apartment in April because we were not supposed to have pets. I bought a puppy so I wouldn't be lonely and have someone to love me. We had to either get out of the apartment or give her up. So, we moved back to the other side of town again. Closer to my family, farther from his.
And in this four-plex, lots of things happened. At this point, we had been together for over three years, married for a short time. This is where things started changing. This is where I started growing as a person and changing, and he was remaining the same.
My relationship with my parents was once again marred. My relationship with Don was better. And I think I ignored my relationship with myself and just kept on keeping on.
There was a birthday party for my neice, his sister's little baby, in October. He didn't think we should go, which was rude, and they lived right down the street from us. But he didn't want to get out of bed, so we hadn't shown up at the party when it started. His sister came down to get us.
When we got over there, a surprise guest was there.... the girl who had also been invited to the wedding and sat at the family table! Seriously, I couldn't believe it. This time, though, I didn't blame him for it because I knew it was his sister who invited her.
We had some major issues come up again, as always. We had some major fighting again, as always. But we were still getting married on December 19th. We were going to the Justice of the Peace, he was going to marry us, and it was going to be a done deal.
So, we got married on December 19th at the courthouse. My dad said he would come, but I misunderstood him and didn't call him back. None of my family was there; it was only his who came. He seemed to be happy getting married to me, but I guess he wasn't.
I didn't know that over the next few years, he would blame me and say I tricked him into marrying me. And now, some 20 years later, he's saying he "endured a pointless marriage." I think he forgot that he begged me to come back to him... because he was definitely not thankful I was with him. However, I wanted to be with someone so badly, I let him do these things to me in the name of "love." Well, I can tell you this. It was NOT love!
Love is patient and kind, and his side of our relationship was anything but that. Yes, he was kind to me sometimes, but you never knew when he would blow his stack and do or say something heinous to me.
He refused to get a job, and he stayed up all night long looking at pornography. And he continued to drink beer.
I could go into all kinds of detail about what happened during this time, but I won't. It's because it's all the same! Same story, different day.
I was still riding the bus to and from work, I was still supporting us, I was still ignorning the facts (but now I was actually married to him), and he was still doing nothing.
We had to move out of the apartment in April because we were not supposed to have pets. I bought a puppy so I wouldn't be lonely and have someone to love me. We had to either get out of the apartment or give her up. So, we moved back to the other side of town again. Closer to my family, farther from his.
And in this four-plex, lots of things happened. At this point, we had been together for over three years, married for a short time. This is where things started changing. This is where I started growing as a person and changing, and he was remaining the same.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Addiction, Obsession, Falilure and Guilt
Addiction. Obsession. Guilt.
In an unhealthy relationship such as ours, all of these things played a part. They were an integral part of my makeup at that time.
I was addicted to the bad behavior. I was addicted to the drama. There was always something going on, whether good or bad, but it kept my life on the edge.
I was obsessed with him. I wanted to fix him, to change him into the man I knew he could be but wasn't willing to be.
I felt like a failure.
I felt guilty for leaving him alone to take care of himself... WHAT????
That first night at my parents was excrutiating. I had lived apart from them for over two years, and I was back in their home. I was grateful and felt relief, but I also felt that I had failed myself. I also felt that I had failed every single person I knew. I made bad choices and decisions, hurt people I loved, and I felt like a huge failure.
I talked to some of my friends that night. They came to my parents' house, sat with me, cried with me, and loved me through some of the most difficult circumstances I had ever found myself in. One of my friends who came was my best guy friend from my high school life. His parents had two boys, and I was like a daughter to them. I even spent the night over there occasionally. He was particularly kind to me after all that happened.
The next morning, I called my wonderful boss and told him what happened. I said that I would be at work the next day, but I had to finish business that day. He was also very understanding and kind about it all.
About mid-morning, Don called. I didn't know whether to talk to him or not, but I did. I'm sure that he would say this did not happen, but he cried and begged me to come back. He wanted to talk to me face to face. Against my better judgment, I went. I took the bus all the way over there, and when I saw him, the addiction, obsession and guilt flooded into me again, and I was back to being the weak girl who couldn't walk away all those months.
We cleaned the apartment together and talked, and he kept telling me how much he loved me. I told him that I wouldn't come back to him unless the violence stopped and we had a future together. He said we could get married by the end of the year, and I decided that I wouldn't give the new apartment up. He could live there until I moved in, too.
By the time I got home, my parents were a little ticked off at me. They laid down some rules of the house. One of these rules was that I couldn't see or talk to Don unless he came to the house.
Addiction. Obsession. Failure. Guilt. Not necessarily in that order.
I went back to work the next morning, spent the day there, and then I took the bus to our new place. My friend came and picked me up and took me back to my parents to get my clothes because, after thinking about it all day long, I decided that I wasn't going to let them tell me what to do. I was almost 21, and they couldn't tell me I couldn't see or talk to him. So, I was moving back in with him.
We got to the house that night. My mom was very upset and wouldn't even talk to me. My dad and I had a very horrible conversation, and I walked out with none of my stuff. I didn't care, though. I was just going to wear the same clothes to work the next day.
My friend took me back to the other apartment. It was July, and the place had no air conditioning, and it was just plain hot. It also didn't have a shower, only a bathtub. Hot!
Don's mom met me when I got out of the car, and she just hugged me, and I cried.
I was back to having to make a choice between two families. Mine and his. Where was I in the middle of all of this?
Feeling like a guilty failure.
In an unhealthy relationship such as ours, all of these things played a part. They were an integral part of my makeup at that time.
I was addicted to the bad behavior. I was addicted to the drama. There was always something going on, whether good or bad, but it kept my life on the edge.
I was obsessed with him. I wanted to fix him, to change him into the man I knew he could be but wasn't willing to be.
I felt like a failure.
I felt guilty for leaving him alone to take care of himself... WHAT????
That first night at my parents was excrutiating. I had lived apart from them for over two years, and I was back in their home. I was grateful and felt relief, but I also felt that I had failed myself. I also felt that I had failed every single person I knew. I made bad choices and decisions, hurt people I loved, and I felt like a huge failure.
I talked to some of my friends that night. They came to my parents' house, sat with me, cried with me, and loved me through some of the most difficult circumstances I had ever found myself in. One of my friends who came was my best guy friend from my high school life. His parents had two boys, and I was like a daughter to them. I even spent the night over there occasionally. He was particularly kind to me after all that happened.
The next morning, I called my wonderful boss and told him what happened. I said that I would be at work the next day, but I had to finish business that day. He was also very understanding and kind about it all.
About mid-morning, Don called. I didn't know whether to talk to him or not, but I did. I'm sure that he would say this did not happen, but he cried and begged me to come back. He wanted to talk to me face to face. Against my better judgment, I went. I took the bus all the way over there, and when I saw him, the addiction, obsession and guilt flooded into me again, and I was back to being the weak girl who couldn't walk away all those months.
We cleaned the apartment together and talked, and he kept telling me how much he loved me. I told him that I wouldn't come back to him unless the violence stopped and we had a future together. He said we could get married by the end of the year, and I decided that I wouldn't give the new apartment up. He could live there until I moved in, too.
By the time I got home, my parents were a little ticked off at me. They laid down some rules of the house. One of these rules was that I couldn't see or talk to Don unless he came to the house.
Addiction. Obsession. Failure. Guilt. Not necessarily in that order.
I went back to work the next morning, spent the day there, and then I took the bus to our new place. My friend came and picked me up and took me back to my parents to get my clothes because, after thinking about it all day long, I decided that I wasn't going to let them tell me what to do. I was almost 21, and they couldn't tell me I couldn't see or talk to him. So, I was moving back in with him.
We got to the house that night. My mom was very upset and wouldn't even talk to me. My dad and I had a very horrible conversation, and I walked out with none of my stuff. I didn't care, though. I was just going to wear the same clothes to work the next day.
My friend took me back to the other apartment. It was July, and the place had no air conditioning, and it was just plain hot. It also didn't have a shower, only a bathtub. Hot!
Don's mom met me when I got out of the car, and she just hugged me, and I cried.
I was back to having to make a choice between two families. Mine and his. Where was I in the middle of all of this?
Feeling like a guilty failure.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
I'm Getting a Backbone... Finally!
The day of my sister's wedding was approaching. She had several wedding showers, and I got to go to them. I was "sort of" talking to my family again, which was also nice. I really missed them, and if the truth be told, I WISHED I could tell them how miserable my life with him was. How much I hated what was going on. How I wished I could believe that God had someone for me, even with all of the mistakes I had made. Her life gave me hope that I had lost.
I spent the daytime hours with my family during the weekend of the wedding. I insisted they take me home at night, and I regretted it. I would have loved to have been with all of them instead.
Even though Don was invited to the wedding, he didn't go. Instead, he looked up a girl he used to know and "saw" her the day of the wedding. I didn't find out this information until much later. Do you know how much danger of STD's he put me into? I don't know why I didn't get it. Gee.
After that weekend, I began seriously considering leaving Don. I saw that there was a possibility of a good life, without the violence, maybe rebuilding my life, buying a car, having my friends again, being happy...
A couple of weeks after the wedding, we went over to Don's mom's on a Sunday afternoon. I pulled her aside and told her that I was going to call my dad that day to come get me. She was sad that it was it over for us, but she agreed with it all. She said she would take him to work with her and stay gone for several hours. She said she loved me and would miss me. The plan was in motion.
During the last few months, we had a couple of dogs. One of them mysteriously died in our kitchen. I found out it was because Don strangled it. And we had a dog at the time I was leaving, too, but I didn't take her with me. I asked his mom to make sure she got a home, and she said she would.
Unfortunately, I had already put a deposit down on another place really close to the one we were living in. It was duplex we had been waiting to get into for a long time. I still wasn't sure what to do about that. I wasn't going to worry about it, though.
His mom took us back to our apartment, and when I got out of the car, I hugged him hard. He looked at me and said, "You're looking at me like you'll never see me again!" I just smiled and walked away.
When I got into the apartment, I immediately called my dad. He said that of course, he would be there very soon, and he would bring people to get my stuff out of there. And boxes. And everything we would need.
I cried... a lot. I cried because I was relieved that this nightmare was finally going to be over for me. I cried because I hoped that God would forgive me for my stupid mistakes. I hoped that He would help me have the life that He wanted for my life all along. Mostly, I cried because I hoped that I could actually do it. I knew that I was weak where Don was concerned, and I thought about him and his reaction when he got home, and I wasn't going to be there. What would he do? Would he even care?
Just as he said, my dad showed up with a bunch of people, and we got my stuff out of there. Fast. And just like that, it was like that part of my life was going to be over.
I spent the daytime hours with my family during the weekend of the wedding. I insisted they take me home at night, and I regretted it. I would have loved to have been with all of them instead.
Even though Don was invited to the wedding, he didn't go. Instead, he looked up a girl he used to know and "saw" her the day of the wedding. I didn't find out this information until much later. Do you know how much danger of STD's he put me into? I don't know why I didn't get it. Gee.
After that weekend, I began seriously considering leaving Don. I saw that there was a possibility of a good life, without the violence, maybe rebuilding my life, buying a car, having my friends again, being happy...
A couple of weeks after the wedding, we went over to Don's mom's on a Sunday afternoon. I pulled her aside and told her that I was going to call my dad that day to come get me. She was sad that it was it over for us, but she agreed with it all. She said she would take him to work with her and stay gone for several hours. She said she loved me and would miss me. The plan was in motion.
During the last few months, we had a couple of dogs. One of them mysteriously died in our kitchen. I found out it was because Don strangled it. And we had a dog at the time I was leaving, too, but I didn't take her with me. I asked his mom to make sure she got a home, and she said she would.
Unfortunately, I had already put a deposit down on another place really close to the one we were living in. It was duplex we had been waiting to get into for a long time. I still wasn't sure what to do about that. I wasn't going to worry about it, though.
His mom took us back to our apartment, and when I got out of the car, I hugged him hard. He looked at me and said, "You're looking at me like you'll never see me again!" I just smiled and walked away.
When I got into the apartment, I immediately called my dad. He said that of course, he would be there very soon, and he would bring people to get my stuff out of there. And boxes. And everything we would need.
I cried... a lot. I cried because I was relieved that this nightmare was finally going to be over for me. I cried because I hoped that God would forgive me for my stupid mistakes. I hoped that He would help me have the life that He wanted for my life all along. Mostly, I cried because I hoped that I could actually do it. I knew that I was weak where Don was concerned, and I thought about him and his reaction when he got home, and I wasn't going to be there. What would he do? Would he even care?
Just as he said, my dad showed up with a bunch of people, and we got my stuff out of there. Fast. And just like that, it was like that part of my life was going to be over.
Drinking Alcohol Only Amplifies Your Problems
I hadn't thought too much about that aspect of my life at that time until I just wrote it down... Drinking alcohol only amplifies your problems...
I was doing very well at my new job. I didn't call in sick when I wasn't, I was at work every single day, and I was making friends. Do you know how good that felt to know I was finally able to be respectable?
I was still hiding the fact that every now and again, I would get beat up by my boyfriend I lived with. Yes, he was the one who wouldn't work. Occasionally, his mom let him go with her to her cleaning appointments, and he would make a little bit of money. That was when we hardly had any food, and I think she felt sorry for us. (As I mentioned before, I really loved her a lot.)
I walked a mile to the grocery store and carried back many bags by myself when we needed groceries. Sometimes, I bought too much and didn't know how I would get home, so I called his mom. She lived nearby and was gracious enough to help me when I needed it.
My sister, who was a senior in high school, was engaged. She was getting married in June, exactly one month after graduation. I was her Maid of Honor. I know that must have been hard for her because of what my life was like at that time, but I was so glad she asked me to do it.
In the meantime, I asked Don about us getting married. We were still engaged, after all. And I had purchased my own rings (of course). He kept putting me off, and looking back, I wish I would have just said "Adios," but no....
We had a neighbor across the yard from us, and she was a nut case. Seriously. And she let Don use her phone to call his "friends." Of course, I didn't know this. However, at least three times a week, I stopped at the liquor store on the corner on the way home and picked up some Bacardi mixers and rum. When I got home, I would make strawberry dacquiri's and drink until I couldn't anymore. And I went to sleep.
I spent many weeks doing this until I got smart. What in the world am I doing???
I was trying to drown my sorrows. I had a lot of them. I had regrets, too. But drinking never made anything better.
I was doing very well at my new job. I didn't call in sick when I wasn't, I was at work every single day, and I was making friends. Do you know how good that felt to know I was finally able to be respectable?
I was still hiding the fact that every now and again, I would get beat up by my boyfriend I lived with. Yes, he was the one who wouldn't work. Occasionally, his mom let him go with her to her cleaning appointments, and he would make a little bit of money. That was when we hardly had any food, and I think she felt sorry for us. (As I mentioned before, I really loved her a lot.)
I walked a mile to the grocery store and carried back many bags by myself when we needed groceries. Sometimes, I bought too much and didn't know how I would get home, so I called his mom. She lived nearby and was gracious enough to help me when I needed it.
My sister, who was a senior in high school, was engaged. She was getting married in June, exactly one month after graduation. I was her Maid of Honor. I know that must have been hard for her because of what my life was like at that time, but I was so glad she asked me to do it.
In the meantime, I asked Don about us getting married. We were still engaged, after all. And I had purchased my own rings (of course). He kept putting me off, and looking back, I wish I would have just said "Adios," but no....
We had a neighbor across the yard from us, and she was a nut case. Seriously. And she let Don use her phone to call his "friends." Of course, I didn't know this. However, at least three times a week, I stopped at the liquor store on the corner on the way home and picked up some Bacardi mixers and rum. When I got home, I would make strawberry dacquiri's and drink until I couldn't anymore. And I went to sleep.
I spent many weeks doing this until I got smart. What in the world am I doing???
I was trying to drown my sorrows. I had a lot of them. I had regrets, too. But drinking never made anything better.
Monday, March 22, 2010
I Got a Job! And I Was Homeless... All at the Same Time
At the beginning of the summer, my first boyfriend, the one who I was obsessed with in high school, who knew Don and what he was, he was going to be at my mom's, and she asked me if I wanted to come and see him. Apparently, he wanted to talk to me. So, I went for a job interview one day and went to my parents'. He and I sat in the basement and had a very serious discussion. He had gotten his life back on track, and he was worried about me. He told me that he would always love and care about me. And he took me back to my apartment. What I really wanted to do was have him get me outta there, but I didn't tell him that.
Don was furious when he found out where I had been! I'm sure some great fight ensued, but I don't remember.
When I couldn't find a job, I went back to my manager at the part-time job I'd had, told him the whole story about what had happened, and he gave me my old job back. Yes, it was only part-time, but I was glad that he believed in me. I had virtually no way to get to work, so there were many days that I walked to work and/or home. I also worked with some nice people who gave me a ride occasionally. I think it was about three miles one way to the mall.
Don didn't look for a job at all. He spent his days lounging at the pool getting a tan and drinking beer, doing who knows what else, while I was working part-time for $3.35/hour. We hadn't been able to pay our rent or really even survive very well at all.
At the end of the summer, my grandma offered for Don and I to move in with her, and she would help us. So, she got us a storage unit, we put everything in it, which wasn't much, and we moved to another state with her. Little did I know, my life was about to change yet again. This time, it was good and bad all at the same time. I didn't really expect that he would be able to physically harm me at my grandma's. At least, I hoped not.
We were there for a couple of weeks when Grandma was going to visit her sister. I wanted to go back and visit Don's family, but he didn't want to go. So, Grandma dropped me at Don's mom's, and he stayed behind. The first day I was there, my dad called me because one of the places I had applied for a job called him when they couldn't reach me. I got a job interview!
I was so excited about this because I had gone so long with no one wanting to talk to me. It was in a savings and loan for a mortgage department. The man who interviewed me was so nice, and he obviously liked me, too. I got the job! I guess we were moving back home again!
Don's mom was very nice in letting us stay with her for a couple of weeks. I rode the bus to work and basically took care of my own needs fairly well. I guess that he spent his days lying around and sleeping. This made his step-father very upset.
The first weekend we were there, Don's sister and her husband had their first baby. It was so exciting! I longed for something like that to happen for me, and I think I knew that being with him was not the way for my dreams to come true, but I kept on going.
Don's mom, bless her heart, and I found this out later, she thought that making us leave would force me to go home to my parents and get my life together. She loved me, too, and I know she wanted the best for me at that time.
I got back to their house on Friday after work, and it was the weekend of turning the clocks back. She told us that we would have to take our things and leave. This had nothing to do with me, but her husband just didn't want us there anymore. Don took it out on me, calling me all kinds of foul names, threw me down on his sister's bed, choking me, when his mother walked in on it and started yelling at him to get out. He cursed at her, too. And I was stuck with him... homeless now.
Looking back, I WISH I would have called my dad. I wish I would have. I know he would have dropped everything and picked me up so fast, but my pride wouldn't let me...once again.
We had nowhere to go, and no one to call. Our friends (who rescued me from him the night where I hid in the laundry room) had moved to that side of town, and they said we could leave our things at their house, but we could not spend the night. They didn't trust him. So, standing on a street corner, with a suitcase and stuff, he yelled at me and pushed me to the ground. He said this was all MY fault.
We spent the night roaming around the east side of town, sitting for a while in the park, almost got attacked by a dog, and I was freezing. All I had was this little suede coat, and it wasn't cutting it.
The next day, our friends let us make some calls. I called my sister, but I couldn't really bear to tell her what was going on. And I called my best friend, and I couldn't tell her what was going on. So, we were off again. We found a motel, I gave them my revoked VISA card, and I went to bed at 8:00 that night, waking up at 9:00am. That morning, there was a note on the door regarding the card, and we took off. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn't do anything about it. I was desperate and cold. And we started walking again.
A man picked us up in his truck and took us downtown because I had to go to work on Monday. We went to another motel, they knew something was wrong with my card, and we were stuck. We called the friend of his who was my "bodyguard" when he broke down my apartment door. She picked us up and took us home with her, and we had a place to stay. I could get to work, and I could make money to get a place.
Can you take one guess as to whether or not he looked for a job? No, they went out drinking almost every night while I went to bed, so I could go to work the next day.
My grandma loaned me some money, and I got an apartment for us. Finally, out "on my own" again. I was so grateful for our friend, who helped us through a very bad time. I know she knew what he was, and she knew what he did to me. But she still saved me through a very bad time.
And I had a job, a really good job, a job that I really liked and appreciated. And they appreciated me, too. And they treated me well.
Don was furious when he found out where I had been! I'm sure some great fight ensued, but I don't remember.
When I couldn't find a job, I went back to my manager at the part-time job I'd had, told him the whole story about what had happened, and he gave me my old job back. Yes, it was only part-time, but I was glad that he believed in me. I had virtually no way to get to work, so there were many days that I walked to work and/or home. I also worked with some nice people who gave me a ride occasionally. I think it was about three miles one way to the mall.
Don didn't look for a job at all. He spent his days lounging at the pool getting a tan and drinking beer, doing who knows what else, while I was working part-time for $3.35/hour. We hadn't been able to pay our rent or really even survive very well at all.
At the end of the summer, my grandma offered for Don and I to move in with her, and she would help us. So, she got us a storage unit, we put everything in it, which wasn't much, and we moved to another state with her. Little did I know, my life was about to change yet again. This time, it was good and bad all at the same time. I didn't really expect that he would be able to physically harm me at my grandma's. At least, I hoped not.
We were there for a couple of weeks when Grandma was going to visit her sister. I wanted to go back and visit Don's family, but he didn't want to go. So, Grandma dropped me at Don's mom's, and he stayed behind. The first day I was there, my dad called me because one of the places I had applied for a job called him when they couldn't reach me. I got a job interview!
I was so excited about this because I had gone so long with no one wanting to talk to me. It was in a savings and loan for a mortgage department. The man who interviewed me was so nice, and he obviously liked me, too. I got the job! I guess we were moving back home again!
Don's mom was very nice in letting us stay with her for a couple of weeks. I rode the bus to work and basically took care of my own needs fairly well. I guess that he spent his days lying around and sleeping. This made his step-father very upset.
The first weekend we were there, Don's sister and her husband had their first baby. It was so exciting! I longed for something like that to happen for me, and I think I knew that being with him was not the way for my dreams to come true, but I kept on going.
Don's mom, bless her heart, and I found this out later, she thought that making us leave would force me to go home to my parents and get my life together. She loved me, too, and I know she wanted the best for me at that time.
I got back to their house on Friday after work, and it was the weekend of turning the clocks back. She told us that we would have to take our things and leave. This had nothing to do with me, but her husband just didn't want us there anymore. Don took it out on me, calling me all kinds of foul names, threw me down on his sister's bed, choking me, when his mother walked in on it and started yelling at him to get out. He cursed at her, too. And I was stuck with him... homeless now.
Looking back, I WISH I would have called my dad. I wish I would have. I know he would have dropped everything and picked me up so fast, but my pride wouldn't let me...once again.
We had nowhere to go, and no one to call. Our friends (who rescued me from him the night where I hid in the laundry room) had moved to that side of town, and they said we could leave our things at their house, but we could not spend the night. They didn't trust him. So, standing on a street corner, with a suitcase and stuff, he yelled at me and pushed me to the ground. He said this was all MY fault.
We spent the night roaming around the east side of town, sitting for a while in the park, almost got attacked by a dog, and I was freezing. All I had was this little suede coat, and it wasn't cutting it.
The next day, our friends let us make some calls. I called my sister, but I couldn't really bear to tell her what was going on. And I called my best friend, and I couldn't tell her what was going on. So, we were off again. We found a motel, I gave them my revoked VISA card, and I went to bed at 8:00 that night, waking up at 9:00am. That morning, there was a note on the door regarding the card, and we took off. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn't do anything about it. I was desperate and cold. And we started walking again.
A man picked us up in his truck and took us downtown because I had to go to work on Monday. We went to another motel, they knew something was wrong with my card, and we were stuck. We called the friend of his who was my "bodyguard" when he broke down my apartment door. She picked us up and took us home with her, and we had a place to stay. I could get to work, and I could make money to get a place.
Can you take one guess as to whether or not he looked for a job? No, they went out drinking almost every night while I went to bed, so I could go to work the next day.
My grandma loaned me some money, and I got an apartment for us. Finally, out "on my own" again. I was so grateful for our friend, who helped us through a very bad time. I know she knew what he was, and she knew what he did to me. But she still saved me through a very bad time.
And I had a job, a really good job, a job that I really liked and appreciated. And they appreciated me, too. And they treated me well.
Friday, March 19, 2010
When You Protect a Liar, YOU Are Labeled One Yourself
Things were still on a roller coaster for me. One day, we were up, the next we were down.
To make matters even worse, the bank manager told me that she didn't want my boyfriend waiting in the lobby for me after work. He needed to wait outside. She may have been afraid of him. Can't really say I blame her.
One Friday afternoon at work, a lady came into the bank and said that she had been victimized. Someone had forged her name to a debit from her account, and it went through my teller window. It had my initials on it. It was also signed by the bank assistant manager. We went back through all of the steps of everything that happened, and I remembered that I did check the signature against the signature card, and it didn't match. I told the asst. manager, and he told me to do it anyway, and he signed the debit. Well, guess who got blamed?
A policeman came in, too me in an office and questioned me. I said that if I had $1,000, wouldn't I have fixed my car? Would I be walking everywhere or riding on the back of a motorcycle?
No one believed me. No one except him.
I was very upset about all of this over the weekend, and when I went back to work on Tuesday, one of the HR guys from the main office came and called me in the office.
And no one stood up for me. And I got fired.
I got fired for something I didn't do. I wish they would have fired me for something I actually did. Like call in sick when I wasn't. I wasn't very responsible back then, but I certainly didn't steal money. (Just a side note, there was talk later that the asst. manager got fired for money missing from the vault, but I don't know if that was true...)
I couldn't find a job, either. Tell a prospective employer that story, and it will not get you a job. I was honest. Honesty didn't get me very far. I even went so far as to talk to an attorney about what happened, but it wouldn't have been worth it to pursue it... my word against theirs.
And, as I said, no one stood up for me, except him and his family. Don't you know that pushed me further into his arms than I was before! He was very angry at the bank for what they did to me. Strange... he treated me badly, but he was the only one allowed to treat me like that?
It was a downhill ride, and I was going at breakneck speed.
When you think that it can't really get much worse than this, just watch.
To make matters even worse, the bank manager told me that she didn't want my boyfriend waiting in the lobby for me after work. He needed to wait outside. She may have been afraid of him. Can't really say I blame her.
One Friday afternoon at work, a lady came into the bank and said that she had been victimized. Someone had forged her name to a debit from her account, and it went through my teller window. It had my initials on it. It was also signed by the bank assistant manager. We went back through all of the steps of everything that happened, and I remembered that I did check the signature against the signature card, and it didn't match. I told the asst. manager, and he told me to do it anyway, and he signed the debit. Well, guess who got blamed?
A policeman came in, too me in an office and questioned me. I said that if I had $1,000, wouldn't I have fixed my car? Would I be walking everywhere or riding on the back of a motorcycle?
No one believed me. No one except him.
I was very upset about all of this over the weekend, and when I went back to work on Tuesday, one of the HR guys from the main office came and called me in the office.
And no one stood up for me. And I got fired.
I got fired for something I didn't do. I wish they would have fired me for something I actually did. Like call in sick when I wasn't. I wasn't very responsible back then, but I certainly didn't steal money. (Just a side note, there was talk later that the asst. manager got fired for money missing from the vault, but I don't know if that was true...)
I couldn't find a job, either. Tell a prospective employer that story, and it will not get you a job. I was honest. Honesty didn't get me very far. I even went so far as to talk to an attorney about what happened, but it wouldn't have been worth it to pursue it... my word against theirs.
And, as I said, no one stood up for me, except him and his family. Don't you know that pushed me further into his arms than I was before! He was very angry at the bank for what they did to me. Strange... he treated me badly, but he was the only one allowed to treat me like that?
It was a downhill ride, and I was going at breakneck speed.
When you think that it can't really get much worse than this, just watch.
The Sky Was Falling
My leg was healing up, but not too fast. I still walked around with a one-legged pantyhose for several months. We didn't have too many outbursts, but Don befriended a kid in the apartment complex who just lost his father. He and his mom were pretty nice to us, and we all got along fairly well. Little did I know, Don was also befriending girls at the pool...including friends of mine.
I got home one Friday night, and I just missed him driving out of the parking lot with my friend and her friends. They were going to some bar on the south side of town, and we lived on the north side. Later, I found out that he lied to her and said I didn't mind him going. So, I pretty much knew where he was when I got home, and he was gone. I called a good friend of mine, Allen, and he drove me down to this bar. I don't remember how I actually got home, but I know I walked in on him in the middle of a group of girls, and it didn't look innocent. I was very upset, and he just laughed at me. He laughed at me...
I didn't know it was funny to laugh at someone who financially supported you and stayed with you, even though you were a jerk. A bad person.
He stayed there with the girls for the night, and he got home really late. I know he was drunk, but that's all I can really remember about that night.
Another weekend, we had this party at our apartment. The bathtub was filled with ice and beer, and our apartment was filled with all these people I really didn't know. I knew a few of my friends were there. This was a very bad night.
When everyone left, the raging drunk began his assault on me. I somehow managed to get out of there, and I ran as fast as I could and tried to find somewhere to hide. I found the laundry room open, and I went inside and hid underneath the counter. I seriously think that God kept that door open for me that night because it should have been locked up. I also believe that an angel stood in front of me that night as I was shaking and crying.
I heard his motorcycle racing throughout the parking lot, and I heard it stop at the laundry room. I remember praying that God keep me safe in there. He walked in, looked around, walked out and took off again. I couldn't believe he didn't see me there. That's God, for sure.
I called a friend of mine who also lived in the apartment complex, and they let me spend the rest of the night with them. The next morning, we had a long talk about what had happened, and they couldn't figure out why I was hanging around in that type of situation. And, if the truth be told, I was also wondering why I was in it, too.
I finally decided to go back home, and when I got there, I found this...my childhood rocking chair had been crushed into small pieces. And, you know, I didn't have much. I lived a very frugal life because I had to, and I didn't have really anything. And one thing I had that meant something to me, he crushed. He had no remorse. He had no heart, and he had no self-control.
Nothing more happened to me that weekend. But the thoughts that were going through my head were about somehow getting away from him. The only problem was I felt sorry for him. Where would he go?
Why would I even care????
I got home one Friday night, and I just missed him driving out of the parking lot with my friend and her friends. They were going to some bar on the south side of town, and we lived on the north side. Later, I found out that he lied to her and said I didn't mind him going. So, I pretty much knew where he was when I got home, and he was gone. I called a good friend of mine, Allen, and he drove me down to this bar. I don't remember how I actually got home, but I know I walked in on him in the middle of a group of girls, and it didn't look innocent. I was very upset, and he just laughed at me. He laughed at me...
I didn't know it was funny to laugh at someone who financially supported you and stayed with you, even though you were a jerk. A bad person.
He stayed there with the girls for the night, and he got home really late. I know he was drunk, but that's all I can really remember about that night.
Another weekend, we had this party at our apartment. The bathtub was filled with ice and beer, and our apartment was filled with all these people I really didn't know. I knew a few of my friends were there. This was a very bad night.
When everyone left, the raging drunk began his assault on me. I somehow managed to get out of there, and I ran as fast as I could and tried to find somewhere to hide. I found the laundry room open, and I went inside and hid underneath the counter. I seriously think that God kept that door open for me that night because it should have been locked up. I also believe that an angel stood in front of me that night as I was shaking and crying.
I heard his motorcycle racing throughout the parking lot, and I heard it stop at the laundry room. I remember praying that God keep me safe in there. He walked in, looked around, walked out and took off again. I couldn't believe he didn't see me there. That's God, for sure.
I called a friend of mine who also lived in the apartment complex, and they let me spend the rest of the night with them. The next morning, we had a long talk about what had happened, and they couldn't figure out why I was hanging around in that type of situation. And, if the truth be told, I was also wondering why I was in it, too.
I finally decided to go back home, and when I got there, I found this...my childhood rocking chair had been crushed into small pieces. And, you know, I didn't have much. I lived a very frugal life because I had to, and I didn't have really anything. And one thing I had that meant something to me, he crushed. He had no remorse. He had no heart, and he had no self-control.
Nothing more happened to me that weekend. But the thoughts that were going through my head were about somehow getting away from him. The only problem was I felt sorry for him. Where would he go?
Why would I even care????
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Happy New Year... Whatever.
So, the end of 1984 and the beginning of 1985. Yeah.
The first thing I can really remember about that was going to work one morning... late. Stopping at the gas station because I was on empty, and my oil light was on. It had come on and gone off several times, I checked the oil, and it was always okay. This one time, though, since I was late, I didn't check it. My car died, engine seized up, and my only form of transportation was gone. You would think this would give me a clear indication of how the year was going to go for me, but I was optimistic anyway.
I started taking the bus to work and home. It really wasn't that bad because it went right by where I lived. Optimism.
Shortly after that, I had a review at work with my supervisor, and she told me how concerned she was for me because my work performance had steadily gone downhill since I got involved with Don. She didn't know if I would be able to work there any longer if something didn't change. Also, my father got a job at the same place, and they had a "no family working in the same branch" rule. So, I lost my job at the main bank working with some great people. I was either going to have to find a new job, or I could work at the west branch of the bank as a teller. I would have to take the bus downtown and take a transfer to the bank each day. I decided to do that, and we decided to move to the west side of town because maybe it would be better for me and my job.
One night, right before we moved, we were riding a very small motorcycle, really meant for dirt bike riding, on the street, there was black ice, and we fell going around the corner. I wasn't very smart back then, and I had pantyhose on under my sweat pants. The pants rode up in the wind, and when my leg hit the muffler, the hose burned into my calf. However, it didn't hurt too bad right then because my leg was numb from the cold.
Don just stood there and screamed at me, he wouldn't take me to the hospital, even though my skin was burned black, he just yelled at me to get back on. So, I did.
He was no nurse and had absolutely no bedside manner at all when it came to this injury. He thought we should put all kinds of over the counter medicines on it, and it was killing me. The next morning, we walked the mile to his mom's, and I called in sick. Pantyhose was a mandatory thing then, and there was no way I could even walk without crying. (Yeah, so how did I walk to his mom's????)
The next day, I cut a leg out of my hose, wore a dress, and went to work on the bus. When I got to work, my friends couldn't believe what had happened, and they insisted that I go to the doctor. In fact, my friend's husband picked me up and took me. I got a stern warning from my doctor, too, who was not too happy about me waiting to get in there. The burns were bad. Really bad. And I still have the scars.
This year, 1985, turned out to be one of the worst years I had with him. It all started out that year, and it never got better, really, except for one thing. But wait.... I'm getting ahead of myself.
The first thing I can really remember about that was going to work one morning... late. Stopping at the gas station because I was on empty, and my oil light was on. It had come on and gone off several times, I checked the oil, and it was always okay. This one time, though, since I was late, I didn't check it. My car died, engine seized up, and my only form of transportation was gone. You would think this would give me a clear indication of how the year was going to go for me, but I was optimistic anyway.
I started taking the bus to work and home. It really wasn't that bad because it went right by where I lived. Optimism.
Shortly after that, I had a review at work with my supervisor, and she told me how concerned she was for me because my work performance had steadily gone downhill since I got involved with Don. She didn't know if I would be able to work there any longer if something didn't change. Also, my father got a job at the same place, and they had a "no family working in the same branch" rule. So, I lost my job at the main bank working with some great people. I was either going to have to find a new job, or I could work at the west branch of the bank as a teller. I would have to take the bus downtown and take a transfer to the bank each day. I decided to do that, and we decided to move to the west side of town because maybe it would be better for me and my job.
One night, right before we moved, we were riding a very small motorcycle, really meant for dirt bike riding, on the street, there was black ice, and we fell going around the corner. I wasn't very smart back then, and I had pantyhose on under my sweat pants. The pants rode up in the wind, and when my leg hit the muffler, the hose burned into my calf. However, it didn't hurt too bad right then because my leg was numb from the cold.
Don just stood there and screamed at me, he wouldn't take me to the hospital, even though my skin was burned black, he just yelled at me to get back on. So, I did.
He was no nurse and had absolutely no bedside manner at all when it came to this injury. He thought we should put all kinds of over the counter medicines on it, and it was killing me. The next morning, we walked the mile to his mom's, and I called in sick. Pantyhose was a mandatory thing then, and there was no way I could even walk without crying. (Yeah, so how did I walk to his mom's????)
The next day, I cut a leg out of my hose, wore a dress, and went to work on the bus. When I got to work, my friends couldn't believe what had happened, and they insisted that I go to the doctor. In fact, my friend's husband picked me up and took me. I got a stern warning from my doctor, too, who was not too happy about me waiting to get in there. The burns were bad. Really bad. And I still have the scars.
This year, 1985, turned out to be one of the worst years I had with him. It all started out that year, and it never got better, really, except for one thing. But wait.... I'm getting ahead of myself.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A Wedding and a Funeral
We went on this way for a couple more months...
I was actually doing pretty good, though. I was spending more time at work than I was with him, and I think that did my heart and mind good.
Don's sister had met a guy around the same time he and I had met. She was my age, and her soon-to-be-husband was a little older than her. They were getting married in November, and it was really an exciting time for everyone.
The wedding went well, and when we were at the reception, an unexpected visitor sat with us at the family table... it was his first girlfriend, Sharon! Yes, she had been invited to the wedding, and at this point, I also didn't know that she had been visiting my boyfriend on his job. Talk about uncomfortable!
Besides that, I was crushed. I didn't know why his family would invite her to sit with the family with me there, too. It didn't make a lot of sense, and it was very upsetting and hurtful.
When we got home from the wedding, oh my gosh, I was soooooo upset! Of course, it was his sister's wedding...not mine. But I expressed my grief at the whole situation, and I distinctly remember being thrown by my neck onto the ground, him sitting on me, screaming in my face, how his problems in life were all my fault. He yelled and yelled at me, hurting me even more.
I wonder now if I started thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe his issues were really my fault. I mean, I'm the one standing in the way of his having fun in life, right?
I couldn't wait for Monday to come so I could go to work and away from him.
Of course, he apologized, said it would never happen again, how he loves me, blah, blah, blah.
And I forgave him. At least, I think I did. Obviously, however, I have not forgotten. I don't think you ever really forget.
A few weeks later, my grandfather had a stroke. He was not going to make it out of this one, as he had several others.
Now, my grandma, she was great. She loved me very much. When I first moved out, she asked me to come to her house (which was about 100 miles away), and she loaded my car down with all kinds of things. I don't really think I have any of that stuff anymore, but I have continued with one thing she taught me. She gave me a beat up can full of change. She said if I always keep my change in this can, I will never be broke. That can died a long time ago, but I replaced it before I threw the other away. And I still keep my change. It's come in handy over the years.
Anyway, it was a Friday night, and my boyfriend and I drove to their town, went to the hospital, and I got to say goodbye. I felt more sorry for grandma that she would be alone, but I was thankful that he would be out of his pain and suffering. He had his first stroke several years earlier, and he hadn't been the same since.
Anyway, there were some misunderstandings with my family and me that weekend, and I ended up driving back home that night, too, and stayed awake for over 24 hours. The next day, we got the call that grandpa had passed away. It was my sister's birthday, December 24th.
I know that Don didn't want to go with me to the funeral because of all of the hard feelings with my family, but he sucked it up and went with me. I was really surprised and a little confused. We all got together after the funeral, and he actually acted decently, which again, surprised me. He was supportive of me, too. Odd.... very odd.
So, 1984 was a very difficult year. This whole relationship with him had gone on since January, starting and stopping, again and again. One year down of the nine years of him hurting and manipulating my life. Only one year down.
I was actually doing pretty good, though. I was spending more time at work than I was with him, and I think that did my heart and mind good.
Don's sister had met a guy around the same time he and I had met. She was my age, and her soon-to-be-husband was a little older than her. They were getting married in November, and it was really an exciting time for everyone.
The wedding went well, and when we were at the reception, an unexpected visitor sat with us at the family table... it was his first girlfriend, Sharon! Yes, she had been invited to the wedding, and at this point, I also didn't know that she had been visiting my boyfriend on his job. Talk about uncomfortable!
Besides that, I was crushed. I didn't know why his family would invite her to sit with the family with me there, too. It didn't make a lot of sense, and it was very upsetting and hurtful.
When we got home from the wedding, oh my gosh, I was soooooo upset! Of course, it was his sister's wedding...not mine. But I expressed my grief at the whole situation, and I distinctly remember being thrown by my neck onto the ground, him sitting on me, screaming in my face, how his problems in life were all my fault. He yelled and yelled at me, hurting me even more.
I wonder now if I started thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe his issues were really my fault. I mean, I'm the one standing in the way of his having fun in life, right?
I couldn't wait for Monday to come so I could go to work and away from him.
Of course, he apologized, said it would never happen again, how he loves me, blah, blah, blah.
And I forgave him. At least, I think I did. Obviously, however, I have not forgotten. I don't think you ever really forget.
A few weeks later, my grandfather had a stroke. He was not going to make it out of this one, as he had several others.
Now, my grandma, she was great. She loved me very much. When I first moved out, she asked me to come to her house (which was about 100 miles away), and she loaded my car down with all kinds of things. I don't really think I have any of that stuff anymore, but I have continued with one thing she taught me. She gave me a beat up can full of change. She said if I always keep my change in this can, I will never be broke. That can died a long time ago, but I replaced it before I threw the other away. And I still keep my change. It's come in handy over the years.
Anyway, it was a Friday night, and my boyfriend and I drove to their town, went to the hospital, and I got to say goodbye. I felt more sorry for grandma that she would be alone, but I was thankful that he would be out of his pain and suffering. He had his first stroke several years earlier, and he hadn't been the same since.
Anyway, there were some misunderstandings with my family and me that weekend, and I ended up driving back home that night, too, and stayed awake for over 24 hours. The next day, we got the call that grandpa had passed away. It was my sister's birthday, December 24th.
I know that Don didn't want to go with me to the funeral because of all of the hard feelings with my family, but he sucked it up and went with me. I was really surprised and a little confused. We all got together after the funeral, and he actually acted decently, which again, surprised me. He was supportive of me, too. Odd.... very odd.
So, 1984 was a very difficult year. This whole relationship with him had gone on since January, starting and stopping, again and again. One year down of the nine years of him hurting and manipulating my life. Only one year down.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The Summer Months
I spent a few weeks going back and forth from my apartment to his because I think I knew that I didn't really want to live with him. I spoke before about him not wanting to be with me but not letting me go. If the truth be told, I think I felt that way, too. It was like some sickness that we couldn't get over.
Not only did he have a drinking problem, a faithfulness problem, another kind of addiction problem, and a violence issue, he also had a loaded gun. I mentioned this before, but the gun really started coming into play that summer.
When we were there at his apartment one summer day, his telephone rang, again before caller ID and everything we have now. When he answered it, he didn't tell me who it was, but I saw the smile on his face, and I heard the words he said to HER because I was sitting right there! It was Cindy, his first girlfriend. Obviously, this relationship was not over.
I'm afraid I might have said and done some inappropriate things at that point, and I know I picked up the loaded gun. I wasn't going to do anything with it, but he thought I might. Of course, he just kept on talking to her, and then he got mad at me when he hung up.
You know, looking back at all of this, I seriously can't believe I thought so little of my own worth that I would stay with someone who didn't love me. He never loved me because all he knew how to do was use me. And I let him. I don't know why I did that, and I wish I never would have. However, all these things made me into the woman I am today, and I think I'm okay now. I'm grateful that I do not have him for my husband now. Actually, I know that he would have killed me by now, so I would be gone. I wouldn't have had my kids, and I wouldn't have known what a real marriage is.
So really, I'm just grateful to be alive and be able to live my life with some joy and happiness. I am a very blessed woman. No matter the pain that has come into my life at certain times. God has always been there to protect me.
I gave up my little apartment before my lease was over and ended up owing a couple of months rent to the complex. Just one more ridiculous expense because of this relationship I HAD to have. Then, at the end of the summer, we moved to the opposite side of town closer to his family. I was glad to move over there because we spent a lot of time with his family. I really adored his mom. She always treated me so well, and she never really knew exactly what went on between the two of us.
I got a part-time job in addition to my full-time job, and he got a part-time job during the time I was working mine at night. Things looked like they might be looking up, at least financially, for us. I went to work in the morning, went home and got him, dropped him off at work, went to work, and we rode home together. These were the days I didn't go to bed until 1 or 2 in the morning and got up around 6. I wasn't getting much sleep at all, and I was getting run down.
Now, I didn't know what was actually going on while I was at work in the evening. He worked at a video arcade. And he conveniently "forgot" he had a girlfriend he lived with while he was there. And guess what else happened?
His very first girlfriend from high school started going into the video arcade, and let's just say they picked up where they left off. There in the arcade, his place of employment. And unbeknownst to me. I'm just going to work at 2 jobs while he's messing around with a part-time job. Seriously?
Summer was over, the jobs were just getting started, and I was getting tired. Really tired.
Not only did he have a drinking problem, a faithfulness problem, another kind of addiction problem, and a violence issue, he also had a loaded gun. I mentioned this before, but the gun really started coming into play that summer.
When we were there at his apartment one summer day, his telephone rang, again before caller ID and everything we have now. When he answered it, he didn't tell me who it was, but I saw the smile on his face, and I heard the words he said to HER because I was sitting right there! It was Cindy, his first girlfriend. Obviously, this relationship was not over.
I'm afraid I might have said and done some inappropriate things at that point, and I know I picked up the loaded gun. I wasn't going to do anything with it, but he thought I might. Of course, he just kept on talking to her, and then he got mad at me when he hung up.
You know, looking back at all of this, I seriously can't believe I thought so little of my own worth that I would stay with someone who didn't love me. He never loved me because all he knew how to do was use me. And I let him. I don't know why I did that, and I wish I never would have. However, all these things made me into the woman I am today, and I think I'm okay now. I'm grateful that I do not have him for my husband now. Actually, I know that he would have killed me by now, so I would be gone. I wouldn't have had my kids, and I wouldn't have known what a real marriage is.
So really, I'm just grateful to be alive and be able to live my life with some joy and happiness. I am a very blessed woman. No matter the pain that has come into my life at certain times. God has always been there to protect me.
I gave up my little apartment before my lease was over and ended up owing a couple of months rent to the complex. Just one more ridiculous expense because of this relationship I HAD to have. Then, at the end of the summer, we moved to the opposite side of town closer to his family. I was glad to move over there because we spent a lot of time with his family. I really adored his mom. She always treated me so well, and she never really knew exactly what went on between the two of us.
I got a part-time job in addition to my full-time job, and he got a part-time job during the time I was working mine at night. Things looked like they might be looking up, at least financially, for us. I went to work in the morning, went home and got him, dropped him off at work, went to work, and we rode home together. These were the days I didn't go to bed until 1 or 2 in the morning and got up around 6. I wasn't getting much sleep at all, and I was getting run down.
Now, I didn't know what was actually going on while I was at work in the evening. He worked at a video arcade. And he conveniently "forgot" he had a girlfriend he lived with while he was there. And guess what else happened?
His very first girlfriend from high school started going into the video arcade, and let's just say they picked up where they left off. There in the arcade, his place of employment. And unbeknownst to me. I'm just going to work at 2 jobs while he's messing around with a part-time job. Seriously?
Summer was over, the jobs were just getting started, and I was getting tired. Really tired.
Some insight on hindsight
Writing and then reading what I've already written is really interesting. I wish I knew then what I know today! I can see the slippery slope so CLEARLY today. There were all these warning signs, these great big red flashing signs that were right in front of me, and I walked right into them...they swallowed me up. And every single time I walked into a warning sign, I got deeper and deeper into the hollow place of this fake relationship.
Now I say that if you see yourself in any circumstances like this, there is only one thing you can do. RUN! RUN FAST! Run as far as you can in the opposite direction.
And if you are reading this as a parent, I feel for you. I know what I went through with my parents, and how much it hurt them to watch while I was destroying my own life, and there was nothing they could do about it. I wouldn't listen to them, and even if they did talk to me, I just pushed them further and further away. See, I didn't want to be wrong on my first major decision. I think that may have been part of my problem; it was PRIDE.
And I think part of the reason I stayed with him was because I didn't want to admit to myself that I was wrong about him, too. He was not this knight in shining armor, coming to take me away to some neverland fantasy far, far away. He was acting as a snake, a viper, a destroyer, an enemy of mine. Seriously, an enemy.
He didn't care for my well-being. He only was concerned about what I could do for him and how that would benefit his life. I guess he was willing to "put up" with me because of all of the good I brought to his life..... LOL!
It is so strange. When you know someone in this situation, if you tell her to leave, she'll stay longer. If you tell her he's no good for her, she'll become more of an advocate for him. So, you, as a friend or family member, here's what I say to you.
You can't make someone do something. You can pray and be there. And when she calls because she needs someone to talk to, you can listen and give a dv hotline number, a friend to lean on, but you cannot make her do anything. Because if you push her to leave him, she'll go running back as fast as she left. She'll call it a temporary lapse and say she loves him and can't live without him.
I know because "she" was me. So, if you are reading this, please take these things into consideration. Again, all details of the situations are different, but the basic outline is the same.
And onto another chapter in our story.
Now I say that if you see yourself in any circumstances like this, there is only one thing you can do. RUN! RUN FAST! Run as far as you can in the opposite direction.
And if you are reading this as a parent, I feel for you. I know what I went through with my parents, and how much it hurt them to watch while I was destroying my own life, and there was nothing they could do about it. I wouldn't listen to them, and even if they did talk to me, I just pushed them further and further away. See, I didn't want to be wrong on my first major decision. I think that may have been part of my problem; it was PRIDE.
And I think part of the reason I stayed with him was because I didn't want to admit to myself that I was wrong about him, too. He was not this knight in shining armor, coming to take me away to some neverland fantasy far, far away. He was acting as a snake, a viper, a destroyer, an enemy of mine. Seriously, an enemy.
He didn't care for my well-being. He only was concerned about what I could do for him and how that would benefit his life. I guess he was willing to "put up" with me because of all of the good I brought to his life..... LOL!
It is so strange. When you know someone in this situation, if you tell her to leave, she'll stay longer. If you tell her he's no good for her, she'll become more of an advocate for him. So, you, as a friend or family member, here's what I say to you.
You can't make someone do something. You can pray and be there. And when she calls because she needs someone to talk to, you can listen and give a dv hotline number, a friend to lean on, but you cannot make her do anything. Because if you push her to leave him, she'll go running back as fast as she left. She'll call it a temporary lapse and say she loves him and can't live without him.
I know because "she" was me. So, if you are reading this, please take these things into consideration. Again, all details of the situations are different, but the basic outline is the same.
And onto another chapter in our story.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
She Was Always There
During the next month or so, I was in and out of emotional outbreaks and breakdowns. There are so many details to this story, and it's hard to write them all, but I am going to try.
Of course, I was still going to work everyday, and I thought about him all the time. Was he cheating on me? Was he talking to her? What was he doing? Does he still want me?
My friend moved into my little apartment with me. Her boyfriend was abusing her, too. In fact, my sister was with me once at his apartment, before I moved out, and he pushed my friend down a flight of stairs...right in front of my sister. It was devastating for her to see that, and I couldn't believe it either.
Funny thing was...we NEVER discussed it. We never talked about how wrong it was for men to beat women...NEVER. Both of us just lived our lives, did what we had to to survive, and carried on with our lives.
The guy I was engaged to started coming back around me again, too. But only at night, leaving notes on my car, "I still love you." And he showed up at my apartment once and followed me to my boyfriend's, and he was at the game room we used to go to. I made my boyfriend tell him to leave me alone. And he did.
My boyfriend decided it probably wasn't a good idea for me to have a key to his apartment (he was very bright, don't you think?), and I took my key back, too. Then, he started in with all kinds of bad behavior. He was drinking almost all the time, and he was a raging drunk. One night, we were at a bar together, he was messing around with some girls there, wouldn't get into my car, so I drove home and went to bed. I heard him walking up about an hour later, as he had walked home from the bar that night. He had some time to get reallllllly mad at me. He started banging on my door and yelling. He didn't have a key anymore, so he broke my door down instead. I was trying to be quiet because maybe he would think I wasn't there if I didn't answer the door. Not so much.
He came into my bedroom, sat down, slapped me on face really hard and said, "Don't ever do that again!" And then, he left.
There was a party going on across the yard from me, and those guys came and asked if I was okay. They said they would keep an eye on my apartment for me.
I called his friend, the one girl he probably never HAD. She liked me, for some reason, and I went and picked her up, and she spent the night at my apartment with me, watching out for me. Kind of like a bodyguard.
We ended up calling the police on him after he called me and said he was going to kill himself. The police went to his apartment, and he didn't answer, of course. At that point, I was starting to wonder what I had gotten involved with. This was a long way from a girl who dreamed of a white knight to take her away. This had turned into a freakish nightmare from which I was hoping to wake up from.
I called the apartment office the next business day, and they fixed the door...with a cost to me. And he kept on rolling with his stupidity and hormones.
A guy I went to elementary school with and hadn't seen since somehow ended up being friends with my boyfriend's best friend. And we ended up meeting up again in some crazy twist of events. He also became a big ally of mine. He said he was interested in my friend who was living with me, but he was actually interested in me. In fact, he told me he loved me, and it scared me to death. He was such a nice guy, though. I had to end our friendship right there. I thought if my boyfriend found out, he would be very angry.
Because, again, although he didn't want me, he didn't want anyone else to have me, either. He didn't want me to be happy because his life was full of such pain. Pain from his past, from his biological father, pain. That's why he acted the way he did. That's why I felt so sorry for him. That's why I made excuses for his behavior. That's why I stayed with him and tried to give him love he'd not had and felt that he didn't deserve.
I know this much... I wasn't the right one for the job. Only God can do that.
So, he started dating other girls, if that's what you really want to call it. He lost another job, and he was living high. Seriously. He got out of anyone what he could, including me, and kept on going.
I had really had enough by Memorial Day weekend. I was going out of town with some of my old friends from church, and I had told him goodbye. I was getting stronger, little by little, or so I thought.
The Thursday night before I was leaving on Friday, he showed up at my house. He had been at a park, been drinking, normal for him, been asked to leave the park, and wrecked his car into a pole. Busted out the windows in the car with his fists, and showed up at MY apartment, expecting me to do something to help him. I did help get the glass out of his arm, and he passed out there.
I got up in the morning, woke him up and told him he needed to leave. I didn't offer a key, I didn't offer to let him stay, I didn't offer him anything. I just told him to leave. I was really proud of myself.
I had a good time that weekend with my friends, but something started gnawing on my insides about him, and I went back to town early. Guess who he was with? Yep. It was the old girlfriend. And he spent the whole weekend with her.
My question is: Why did I care? I broke up with him, right?
I went crazy all the next day trying to get a hold of him. He finally called me.
And that's how things went for a few weeks. I wanted him... I didn't.... He wanted me... He didn't...
I did break up "completely" with him in June, and I stayed true to myself for a few days. Until he called and asked me to drive him to his court appearance. And I said I would drive him home.
And he told me he knew that he loved me and wanted me to be with him forever. And he was done with all the women. And he wanted me to marry him and live with him. I told him I'd have to think about it.
Next thing I knew, I was moving in with him. I didn't really want to, but I did. There went the independence I was seeking. And I never really had.
Of course, I was still going to work everyday, and I thought about him all the time. Was he cheating on me? Was he talking to her? What was he doing? Does he still want me?
My friend moved into my little apartment with me. Her boyfriend was abusing her, too. In fact, my sister was with me once at his apartment, before I moved out, and he pushed my friend down a flight of stairs...right in front of my sister. It was devastating for her to see that, and I couldn't believe it either.
Funny thing was...we NEVER discussed it. We never talked about how wrong it was for men to beat women...NEVER. Both of us just lived our lives, did what we had to to survive, and carried on with our lives.
The guy I was engaged to started coming back around me again, too. But only at night, leaving notes on my car, "I still love you." And he showed up at my apartment once and followed me to my boyfriend's, and he was at the game room we used to go to. I made my boyfriend tell him to leave me alone. And he did.
My boyfriend decided it probably wasn't a good idea for me to have a key to his apartment (he was very bright, don't you think?), and I took my key back, too. Then, he started in with all kinds of bad behavior. He was drinking almost all the time, and he was a raging drunk. One night, we were at a bar together, he was messing around with some girls there, wouldn't get into my car, so I drove home and went to bed. I heard him walking up about an hour later, as he had walked home from the bar that night. He had some time to get reallllllly mad at me. He started banging on my door and yelling. He didn't have a key anymore, so he broke my door down instead. I was trying to be quiet because maybe he would think I wasn't there if I didn't answer the door. Not so much.
He came into my bedroom, sat down, slapped me on face really hard and said, "Don't ever do that again!" And then, he left.
There was a party going on across the yard from me, and those guys came and asked if I was okay. They said they would keep an eye on my apartment for me.
I called his friend, the one girl he probably never HAD. She liked me, for some reason, and I went and picked her up, and she spent the night at my apartment with me, watching out for me. Kind of like a bodyguard.
We ended up calling the police on him after he called me and said he was going to kill himself. The police went to his apartment, and he didn't answer, of course. At that point, I was starting to wonder what I had gotten involved with. This was a long way from a girl who dreamed of a white knight to take her away. This had turned into a freakish nightmare from which I was hoping to wake up from.
I called the apartment office the next business day, and they fixed the door...with a cost to me. And he kept on rolling with his stupidity and hormones.
A guy I went to elementary school with and hadn't seen since somehow ended up being friends with my boyfriend's best friend. And we ended up meeting up again in some crazy twist of events. He also became a big ally of mine. He said he was interested in my friend who was living with me, but he was actually interested in me. In fact, he told me he loved me, and it scared me to death. He was such a nice guy, though. I had to end our friendship right there. I thought if my boyfriend found out, he would be very angry.
Because, again, although he didn't want me, he didn't want anyone else to have me, either. He didn't want me to be happy because his life was full of such pain. Pain from his past, from his biological father, pain. That's why he acted the way he did. That's why I felt so sorry for him. That's why I made excuses for his behavior. That's why I stayed with him and tried to give him love he'd not had and felt that he didn't deserve.
I know this much... I wasn't the right one for the job. Only God can do that.
So, he started dating other girls, if that's what you really want to call it. He lost another job, and he was living high. Seriously. He got out of anyone what he could, including me, and kept on going.
I had really had enough by Memorial Day weekend. I was going out of town with some of my old friends from church, and I had told him goodbye. I was getting stronger, little by little, or so I thought.
The Thursday night before I was leaving on Friday, he showed up at my house. He had been at a park, been drinking, normal for him, been asked to leave the park, and wrecked his car into a pole. Busted out the windows in the car with his fists, and showed up at MY apartment, expecting me to do something to help him. I did help get the glass out of his arm, and he passed out there.
I got up in the morning, woke him up and told him he needed to leave. I didn't offer a key, I didn't offer to let him stay, I didn't offer him anything. I just told him to leave. I was really proud of myself.
I had a good time that weekend with my friends, but something started gnawing on my insides about him, and I went back to town early. Guess who he was with? Yep. It was the old girlfriend. And he spent the whole weekend with her.
My question is: Why did I care? I broke up with him, right?
I went crazy all the next day trying to get a hold of him. He finally called me.
And that's how things went for a few weeks. I wanted him... I didn't.... He wanted me... He didn't...
I did break up "completely" with him in June, and I stayed true to myself for a few days. Until he called and asked me to drive him to his court appearance. And I said I would drive him home.
And he told me he knew that he loved me and wanted me to be with him forever. And he was done with all the women. And he wanted me to marry him and live with him. I told him I'd have to think about it.
Next thing I knew, I was moving in with him. I didn't really want to, but I did. There went the independence I was seeking. And I never really had.
Betrayal Comes Along
So I packed up everything in my bedroom, which wasn’t much, and headed out to my new place that Saturday. My mom asked if I would stay until the end of the weekend, and I said no. My dad changed the oil in my car, and I’m sure they were heartbroken when I left.
My new place had no furniture, and I slept on the floor. I had stuff everywhere in my little place, but it was mine…right? I still went to work every day, and I still slept every night. But my life was not the same after that break.
Three weeks later, on Easter weekend, I was in a wedding 100 miles from my city. I rode with some friends of mine, good friends, and we had a great time. Little did I know that my life was going to make a drastic turn for the worst when I returned.
My boyfriend had gone out with his sister and a friend of theirs to some bars that night. (He later claimed it was my fault because I wasn’t home.) Keep in mind, these were the days before cell phones and answering machines and GPS and pagers.
I called him all night long, and I went by his apartment several times. He just lived a couple of blocks away from me. Some of my friends came over, we drank some wine and fell asleep. About 6:00 am, I woke up, and he still hadn’t shown up. It was Easter morning, and I promised my parents I would be at church that morning. I had to check on him first, though.
When I got to his parking lot, I saw his car, and another car was parked really close to his. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach, and it grew worse as I walked up the sidewalk to his apartment. I had a key, and it seemed like slow motion as I put the key in the lock and turned it. When I opened the door, I saw him with another girl under some blankets on his living room floor. (He didn’t have any furniture, either.) I’m sure I had a look of horror on my face. Without really thinking, I turned around, shut the door and started walking towards my car.
And then, I thought, Why should he get away with this?
So, I turned around, went back in, walked right over them, introduced myself to her, said I wanted to talk to him, and walked into the bedroom. He came in the room, begging me to go home, and he would come over to talk. I said I would.
I cried, wailed, actually, all the way home. I seriously couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed! The girl he was with was his girlfriend who threw him in jail, the one he had beaten up before me! And she knew about me, too. Unfortunately, their sick connection lasted for our whole relationship and marriage and beyond.
And if you want to know the truth, I think our relationship was a sick connection, too.
So, he got there, came in, grabbed me by the throat and threw me into the wall, screaming that this was all MY fault for being in a wedding and leaving him home alone. HUH? My fault?
Needless to say, I didn’t go to church that morning. Just one more disappointment to add to the list for my parents and my relationship.
That afternoon, my first boyfriend, whom I had remained in touch with, and my other friend, who was dating him again, and a friend of my boyfriend, they were all at my house, and I told them what happened. Every one of them thought I was absolutely CRAZY to forgive him and move on with him. His friend, especially, knew what kind of a “man” he was, and he wanted me to get rid of him, too.
In all honesty, I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. In 4 short months, my life went from decent to chaos…. All because of a man who didn’t love me, but who wouldn’t let me go, either.
My new place had no furniture, and I slept on the floor. I had stuff everywhere in my little place, but it was mine…right? I still went to work every day, and I still slept every night. But my life was not the same after that break.
Three weeks later, on Easter weekend, I was in a wedding 100 miles from my city. I rode with some friends of mine, good friends, and we had a great time. Little did I know that my life was going to make a drastic turn for the worst when I returned.
My boyfriend had gone out with his sister and a friend of theirs to some bars that night. (He later claimed it was my fault because I wasn’t home.) Keep in mind, these were the days before cell phones and answering machines and GPS and pagers.
I called him all night long, and I went by his apartment several times. He just lived a couple of blocks away from me. Some of my friends came over, we drank some wine and fell asleep. About 6:00 am, I woke up, and he still hadn’t shown up. It was Easter morning, and I promised my parents I would be at church that morning. I had to check on him first, though.
When I got to his parking lot, I saw his car, and another car was parked really close to his. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach, and it grew worse as I walked up the sidewalk to his apartment. I had a key, and it seemed like slow motion as I put the key in the lock and turned it. When I opened the door, I saw him with another girl under some blankets on his living room floor. (He didn’t have any furniture, either.) I’m sure I had a look of horror on my face. Without really thinking, I turned around, shut the door and started walking towards my car.
And then, I thought, Why should he get away with this?
So, I turned around, went back in, walked right over them, introduced myself to her, said I wanted to talk to him, and walked into the bedroom. He came in the room, begging me to go home, and he would come over to talk. I said I would.
I cried, wailed, actually, all the way home. I seriously couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed! The girl he was with was his girlfriend who threw him in jail, the one he had beaten up before me! And she knew about me, too. Unfortunately, their sick connection lasted for our whole relationship and marriage and beyond.
And if you want to know the truth, I think our relationship was a sick connection, too.
So, he got there, came in, grabbed me by the throat and threw me into the wall, screaming that this was all MY fault for being in a wedding and leaving him home alone. HUH? My fault?
Needless to say, I didn’t go to church that morning. Just one more disappointment to add to the list for my parents and my relationship.
That afternoon, my first boyfriend, whom I had remained in touch with, and my other friend, who was dating him again, and a friend of my boyfriend, they were all at my house, and I told them what happened. Every one of them thought I was absolutely CRAZY to forgive him and move on with him. His friend, especially, knew what kind of a “man” he was, and he wanted me to get rid of him, too.
In all honesty, I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. In 4 short months, my life went from decent to chaos…. All because of a man who didn’t love me, but who wouldn’t let me go, either.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
He Reeled Me In
Although some of the details have been far removed from my mind, I still remember some things as clear as day.
He was very charming and seemed nice. Even my family liked him when they spent an evening with him. I didn’t tell them what I knew, though.
We met while he was a clerk in a gas station. I thought he was good-looking, he seemed interested in me, I called him when I got home, he expressed wanting to go out with me, I asked if he would be willing to spend an evening with my family, he said yes, we got together one night, and that’s when it started.
After dinner and some card games with my parents, they left us alone to talk. He told me that he had recently been put in jail for beating up his girlfriend. But she was an alcoholic, she was cheating on him, it was her fault…blah, blah, blah.
But, being the naïve young woman I was, I believed what he said. I mean, it couldn’t have been his fault. She must be some horrible girl, right?
I don’t really know what drew me into his web… I wonder now if I felt sorry for him, or if I just wanted someone to love me. Either way, not great to start a relationship with someone with those circumstances.
From that moment on, we spent a lot of time together. We talked on the phone, saw each other in person, etc. And things between us progressed very quickly. Before we knew it, we were planning on getting married and starting a life together. I’m talking within a month’s time.
And then, one night in March, the violence against me began.
Let’s just say that I started doing things I didn’t normally do when I met him. And I had been drinking, and he tried to take me home like that. After he pushed me down in his apartment, he tried to drive me home…and I tried to jump out of a moving car. So, he took me back to his place, and I sobered up. Little did I know, he had met some girl at the gas station, and he had a date for that night. I guess he stood her up, huh? Of course, I didn’t know about this until later, but that was the way things started.
My parents, I don’t know how they stood watching all of this happen, knew something bad was going on. They forbade me from seeing him, set a curfew on me, etc. I think NOW that it was them trying to protect me, but then, I thought they were trying to ruin and run my life. So, I saw him anyway and forced the issue. My dad told me one morning before work that if I saw him again, I would find my stuff on the porch. So, at lunch that day, I went out and got myself an apartment for ME. No one else…just me.
I didn’t really care that my grandparents were there that weekend, or that it was my mom’s birthday. I didn’t think about what this would do to my sister and brother, or anyone else, for that matter. I just needed OUT. Of all of it.
Well, I hurt my parents and made them angry, and I made Don very angry, too. He couldn’t figure out why I just wouldn’t move in with him! Well, I know that I was trying to make some decisions for my life that had nothing to do with him or my parents or anyone else. I was 18, soon to be 19, had my own car, my own job, my own life. But no one saw me as an individual. I was always someone’s daughter or sister or girlfriend. I was not myself. This was my attempt at freedom.
Freedom comes at a high price sometimes. And I wasn’t really free, though. I was living as a prisoner, and I didn’t even have a clue.
He was very charming and seemed nice. Even my family liked him when they spent an evening with him. I didn’t tell them what I knew, though.
We met while he was a clerk in a gas station. I thought he was good-looking, he seemed interested in me, I called him when I got home, he expressed wanting to go out with me, I asked if he would be willing to spend an evening with my family, he said yes, we got together one night, and that’s when it started.
After dinner and some card games with my parents, they left us alone to talk. He told me that he had recently been put in jail for beating up his girlfriend. But she was an alcoholic, she was cheating on him, it was her fault…blah, blah, blah.
But, being the naïve young woman I was, I believed what he said. I mean, it couldn’t have been his fault. She must be some horrible girl, right?
I don’t really know what drew me into his web… I wonder now if I felt sorry for him, or if I just wanted someone to love me. Either way, not great to start a relationship with someone with those circumstances.
From that moment on, we spent a lot of time together. We talked on the phone, saw each other in person, etc. And things between us progressed very quickly. Before we knew it, we were planning on getting married and starting a life together. I’m talking within a month’s time.
And then, one night in March, the violence against me began.
Let’s just say that I started doing things I didn’t normally do when I met him. And I had been drinking, and he tried to take me home like that. After he pushed me down in his apartment, he tried to drive me home…and I tried to jump out of a moving car. So, he took me back to his place, and I sobered up. Little did I know, he had met some girl at the gas station, and he had a date for that night. I guess he stood her up, huh? Of course, I didn’t know about this until later, but that was the way things started.
My parents, I don’t know how they stood watching all of this happen, knew something bad was going on. They forbade me from seeing him, set a curfew on me, etc. I think NOW that it was them trying to protect me, but then, I thought they were trying to ruin and run my life. So, I saw him anyway and forced the issue. My dad told me one morning before work that if I saw him again, I would find my stuff on the porch. So, at lunch that day, I went out and got myself an apartment for ME. No one else…just me.
I didn’t really care that my grandparents were there that weekend, or that it was my mom’s birthday. I didn’t think about what this would do to my sister and brother, or anyone else, for that matter. I just needed OUT. Of all of it.
Well, I hurt my parents and made them angry, and I made Don very angry, too. He couldn’t figure out why I just wouldn’t move in with him! Well, I know that I was trying to make some decisions for my life that had nothing to do with him or my parents or anyone else. I was 18, soon to be 19, had my own car, my own job, my own life. But no one saw me as an individual. I was always someone’s daughter or sister or girlfriend. I was not myself. This was my attempt at freedom.
Freedom comes at a high price sometimes. And I wasn’t really free, though. I was living as a prisoner, and I didn’t even have a clue.
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