I am in an abusive marriage at the moment, and am on the verge of...who knows what? I can't take another minute or another day of the constant blaming, shaming, and belittling, the verbal tearing down of everything I do or think or say. Even my family is not immune. This man has issues with me dating as far back as the 1950's. We were teenagers then, and constant friends, and nothing ever passed between us but a little hand-holding, some long walks, and a few tentative kisses. The word 'love' never entered the picture. We were 13 and 16 when we met. There were guys on the corner who used to challenge him, because he was from another neighborhood in the city. They wanted to beat him up, and even threatened him in such a way, I was really afraid of serious harm to him. One of the guys approached me, saying he was going to kill him if I didn't come across, and really had me convinced this would be the case, amd I was terribly afraid something bad would really happen to my friend if I didn't comply. So, being the stupid, unworldly little girl that I was, I gave away my virginity to this slug, and shortly afterward realized that I was pregnant. A family friend, an older man, decided to 'send me away', and get me out of the reach of my stepmother, who I didn't think would be at all sympathetic to my plight. I told My 'friend' about the baby, and asked if he could accept that, and was told no, he couldn't, and I 'disappeared' from the area the next day. As it turned out, my little boy was born early, and was moving, but I was told later he was stillborn. I never got to see him or hold him or even give him a name.
Thinking that my 'love' was now completely out of my life forever, after a year or so, I ended up marrying the older famly friend who had been my 'mentor' in all this, and we went on to have four beautiful children. There was a 35 year difference in our ages, and at first this didn't seem to matter, but as time went on, this little girl began to think for herself, and discover that she was a person in her own right- not just someone's wife and mother. Problem was, I had always been treated as one of the kids, with all decisions being made for me, and I was outgrowing that sort of life.
I left. I wanted to take the kids with me, but with no skills or job, they were better off there.
Enter another man who took an interest in me, and eventually we moved in together, and a few years later we were married. My children all took part in our wedding, and he seemed interested in my family, endearing himself to all of them in one way or another. Our young daughter thrived, and we seemed so happy together, except when he got to drinking certain mixtures when in friends' company, when he would turn mean and nasty, and sometimes physically abusive toward me when he knew he had done something wrong, or even just inconsiderate. Well, we finally got married, after almost seven years together, and with the help of family and many friends, we had a lovely church wedding, and two receptions, one at a hall, and another one after that at our home. All went well until the wife of one of his friends was walking around with my husband's protective arm around her, because one of the other male guests had pinched her on the butt or something, and this 'protective' behavior continued for about an hour, until my father and stepmother had to leave, and be driven home. I suggested to my husband that he and I escape just long enough to take them home, and his arm tightened around this woman, and I told him that I, the bride, would see to it that her parents got home safely. By the time I got back, my storm door on the kitchen was broken, most of my guests had gone, and my husband was packing to leave! His father talked to him as he sat in the car, and brought him back into the house. They left, and I got him into the bedroom, took off his boots, and covered him up, and I slept on the living room couch. Next morning we discovered he had kicked the strip off the side of my car, bashed in the grille, and punched my windshield as well as broke a bone in his hand. All went okay until hae started going on long TDY trips, weeks and months at a time, and I rode to where he was every weekend after working all week, because I didn't want my daughter to be raised without a father, and wanted a continuity of some sort of family life. Finally he got a transfer to another part of the country, permanently, and I set about trying to get a transfer, too, within my company, to be with him, and put my home up for sale. After four years, my house finally sold at a loss, and we ended up joining a social organization there, and he was away from the house, mostly volunteering for things there that needed doing. I saw little of him then. Upon my suggestion that we were wasting money renting inadequate apartment space, since we were both making decent money, we might be better off looking to buy a house, and he didn't want to do that at first, but then reluctantly agreed. We bought a little house, with a little backyard. He was disinterested in planting anything at all, so I began creating flower beds, and digging up huge rocks with almost every spadeful of earth, It was hard work, but if anyone was going to do it, it had to be me.
He went to some convention and won a computer, so we went online. Soon after, we bought a second computer. I began looking for old friends, and so did he. At first we both knew each other's passwords- no secrets between us, but it wasn't long until he changed his so I no longer had access to it. And he would turn it off as soon as I came into the room. I was very excited when I was looking for old friends, and told him when I found my girlhood friend, and looked at his profile, which stated he was happily married. I was glad of that, because I still, foolishly, considered myself as happily married. It took a while, but I ended up composing an email geared to find out if this was really the person of my youth I was talking to. It was, and we started emailing about our families, and all that had happened in the interim. He was now on the other coast, but we were hopeful of visiting, the four of us, at sometime in the future. All was well, and even when hi mother passed away, my husband and I arranged to meet him at the airport, and take him to where he needed to be. I expected his wife to come, too, but she stayed home. Lots of emails and phone calls followed, and about six years after that, my husband and I were going to have a small recommitment ceremony, and in that same conversation, I heard that my friend's wife had passed away, and had just been buried. He expressed interest in coming to our ceremony, and with my husband's consent, he did.
Then followed several visits over the next year, my husband and he seemingly getting along like brothers, and both of us going to work at our jobs everyday, and Bill taking walks, and having dinner ready for the three of us when we got home. He said he felt 'spooked' where his wife had died, and needed to just get away, so he was made welcome and could come and go whenever he wished. During this time, I found that there was a woman who also volunteered at our Moose lodge who was getting pretty cozy with my husband, and when I asked him about her, I was told she just 'needed somebody to talk to', and once when I ventured into the kitchen there, they were standing pretty close, face to face, and she had tears streaming down her face. I asked him later what had gone on, and he told me that it was the one-year anniversary of her husband's death, and I asked if there hadn't been anyone else there she could have sought some consolation from... At one point she came after me, telling me how much my husband was like her 'poor dead husband', and I told her point-blank that he was NOT her dead husband, but mine, and that I loved him very much, and told her to back off. At this point, I found out later, many of the women were warning her away from him, but she replied she didn't care!
During my friend's final visit, he said he had to go back home, and pull together a life for himself. We were to keep in touch by phone and email. He had had long talks about me with my husband, expressing regret that we'd never gotten together in the first place, and how lucky my husband was to have me, things like that. But he was going home. Then one afternoon, my husband left, leaving me only a note attached to the inside of the front door. I was beside myself, wanting only to go 'talk to my mother', who had died months before. I was panic stricken. I called him on his cell phone, asking where he was, and he said he was at dinner with a friend. I mentioned the other woman's name, and he confirmed it was her. I asked him to come home so we could talk, and he refused. He had already taken some of his things to her place, and he claimed to be happy where he was. Asked about counseling for us, he claimed it didn't work with his first wife! In essence, I was lost, hurt, and betrayed, and in the end was 'sold to the highest bidder'- that's how I have felt about it ever since.
After he left, Bill took over, and took me under his wing. Since I could not afford the house my husband and I had bought on my own, and he refused to give me any money at all, the house was put on the market. Since I couldn't afford to stay in the area at all, I had to retire from the company I'd worked for for 23 years. And Bill told me to look for anther house. I found one, inexpensive, in a totally different area, and insisted that I would be paying the mortgage, and as much of the upkeep and bills as my money would stretch to cover. My divorce went through, and my ex and his girlfriend were married shortly after. I felt in no condition to even think about marrying again. After five years, however, Bill propose, and we were married in mid-2007. However, he had, and continues to be, a very critical and vindictive person, having very strong opinions about everything I do, and everything most of my family does. He is extremely argumentative and temperamental. I can do nothing right, and am to blame for everything wrong in his life. Anytime the tirades begin, I never know what else is going to be thrown into the mix- old, new, real, imaginary, so-called 'promises' he claims were not met- it could be almost anything, and he is non-stop, to the point where he yells without even hearing or listening to anything I might say. He 'forgets' things he says, even to others, especially my kids, and it has caused me and them a lot of hardship. It is really frightening, although, so far at least, not to the point of being anything physical. It is at a point now,where I can't really say I love him anymore. When he does calm down, he acts as though all he has to do is hug me, and say a few nice things, or maybe buy a trinket, and all should be well. then he seems to try to be a decent human being, but it's short-lasting at best. I tread on eggshells, and it isn't long until it all begins again. There are times lately when I am thinking of a permanent way out. Life doesn't seem worth living at such times. I never thought I would ever be saying that, let alone thinking it.
We need help, definitely!!!!!
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