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.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
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.
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