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.
Monday, April 12, 2010
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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