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.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
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.
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