The story of the unused razor blade

I was so stuck...do I stay? Leave? Can I fix him? I'm his wife...reading "Power of a Praying" wife. I could pray so hard that he would remember that he loved me and why he married me. Surely he didn't mean all those things he said. Those things he did. He's just tired. Just hungover. Just stressed. I don't love him enough, I don't show my love enough. What am I doing wrong?? Constant back and forth. I couldn't go on like this. There is so much shame. You feel so alone. You can't tell many people, or rather, you feel like you can't. It's such a lonely, lonely place.

I decided to try and get his attention. If I died, or almost died, then he'd feel so bad and straighten up. He'd really love me then. He'd feel bad...you see how sick this position makes you think. That it is your fault. 

I don't remember the specific day...but all of a sudden I found myself sitting on the toilet, with the lid down. The door locked - he was "recovering" on the couch. Razor in hand. I was sitting there, imagining how bad he'd feel - hopefully. I never made a cut, not even a scratch...but the point is that it drove me to that point. You can have so many people in your life that LOVE you...that if they knew what was going on, they would drag your rear end out of there. 

I know that now...but you're in a bubble. And only those that have lived in that bubble, can understand what I mean. Physical, verbal, emotional, mental abuse - alone or all together have such power. It's almost as if you become addicted to something you never meant to try. 

I know a lot of this post was just rambling, but I was back at that state in my head, where it was a bunch of scrambling around. 

If you are living that bubble right now, and feel like you are alone - you are not. First of all you're never alone because God never leaves your side. But I'M HERE. Even if you don't know me, I'M HERE. I've lived that bubble. Call me - 615-509-1539 - or text. 

The story of the high speed chase

He had been missing, gone, for at least a week this time. He wouldn't answer the phone. Wouldn't text back. Not even an "I'm ok". The timeline of our marriage in my head is so blurred I don't even know what month this was. I'm pretty sure it was after tax season though, so possibly May of 2005. But those are just minor details.

I took the day off of work to stay home and attempt at focusing enough that I could study for the part of the CPA exam I had coming up. I was sitting at the dining room table. We had a bay window & the house sat up on a hill so I could easily see down to the culdesac. I remember the sound of the garage door opening and I looked out the window and there was his truck. That damn truck I had to pay the note on because it was in my name.

However, he wasn't expecting to see my car when he opened the garage door - he thought I'd be gone to work. I ran out the door and they were backing out of the driveway & closing the garage door. The girl he had been sleeping with. I had never seen her face. AND she was driving! Driving THE CAR I PAID FOR. I saw red.

If you can imagine, you see your husband, who you haven't seen or heard of in over a week, finally show up. Then he tries to run away. I flew down to my car as fast as I could. I don't even think I put shoes on. I flew down my driveway, it bottomed out at the pavement, and I started chasing them. Out of the neighborhood, down the street and up to the on ramp of the interstate. I'm honking the whole time. We get on the interstate, and I pull up next to them, and I see her. Why her? What is she doing that I'm not? What is so wrong with me?

I'm yelling PULL OVER! PULL OVER NOW! They're both flicking me off and I see him laughing. We get up to almost 100 mph on I-24. She's mouthing "CRAZY BITCH" at me. Who knows what lies he told her about me. But she was right, I was crazy. It makes you CRAZY. Do things you would normally never do.

After a few miles I just let them go. What was I going to do? Wreck us? I went back home. Cried. Yelled. Screamed. I felt crazy insane and completely alone and helpless. I don't remember when he came back after that. 

But apparently I forgave him and believed his "I'm sorry"'s, because this story continued on for at least another year. That's one of the things about domestic, emotional, psychological abuse. It's a cycle. A vicious cycle. And so so hard to get off the merry go round. 

The story of the missing newlywed

If you knew my ex-husband in real life, you'd understand that "to know him is to love him". He had one of those personalities that just draws people in. He's funny, charismatic, life of the party, and knows how to make everyone feel at ease. As you've read in previous posts though, that's not the same behind closed doors.

For our honeymoon we took a cruise to Mexico. I was 23, about to turn 24. Very young! We were ready to have a good time -  drink, lay out by the pool and party. We made some friends, as he always easily did, with a group of guys that were on a guys trip I suppose. I mainly remember just hanging out at the pool with them.

One of the nights we went to their cabin to pre-party. We had dinner as normal then went on to the clubs they had on the cruise ship. Next thing I know, I wake up in our cabin and he's gone. I yelled his name, no answer. Not in the bathroom. No where. It was like 3am I'd say.

I got out of our cabin and went up to the deck where the pool and hot tub were to see if he was up there or possibly passed out on one of the lounge chairs. Nope. I remember stumbling around yelling his name. I was so afraid he had gotten drunk and fallen off the side of the boat. Terrified. I probably walked that ship for over an hour.

I don't remember what time he came back to the room, but he refused to tell me where he had been - "just hanging out" - is what he said. I never did find out where he had been. Yeah, he could've just passed out in the guys' room, or he could've been in another girls' room. Who knows.

All I know is that my new husband didn't come "home" during our first week of marriage, and I was just supposed to accept that. That was the first of many nights I would spend alone, wondering where he was and who he was with.

The story of the stolen car

You know...sometimes God flashes HUGE signs in front of us that we either ignore, or simply don't see because, you know what they say about love. It's blind.

It was my 22nd birthday, September 16th. Daddy had bought me one of those awesome CD changers where the face comes off. I was so excited. It was for my beloved Honda Accord coupe. 

I didn't go out that night, I was in school and I had a test the next day. I was living with a roommate and both our dogs. *Ben (actually, let's call him Bart, Ben is too nice of a name) was staying with us most nights at this point. I should add that this is a year before I married Bart. Bart wanted to go out, so he took my car. He didn't have a car.

I was woken up around 3am to loud laughing in the living room of the apartment. I went out there to to find 2 thug looking guys on my couch who I had never met, along with Bart. They were clearly trashed. I told Bart to the side to get them out of my house, I had no idea who they were. He told me I was crazy and just to take my crazy ass back to bed. I knew I wasn't going to win this battle, so I grabbed Toby, my dog and laid in bed until it was quiet and I went back to sleep. 

I woke up at like 5, all was quiet and I went out to the living room. Bart was passed out on the couch. I looked around and saw my purse on the kitchen table. All my cash, my debit card, MY KEYS were gone.

I ran outside to the parking lot. My car was gone. I ran back in and tried to wake him up, asking him where the F*CK my car was. He was no use. He couldn't even talk, still too drunk.

My roommate drove me to my parents house and I told Daddy what had happened. Daddy drove me back to the apartment, his gun with him. We had no idea if these guys were coming back...what we would come back to. We walked up to the door to hear a blaring noise. It was my alarm clock. He was still passed out, no budging. Daddy banged on the door until he finally unlocked it. Remember, I had no keys. I don't know how he managed to get up and lock the door. 

Daddy told him to get his ass up he was taking him "home". I don't even remember where that was at that point. Maybe his brother's. It was over, it was done. I couldn't be with someone who would bring random people to my house without my permission. And they had STOLEN my car. Luckily, my car was found 2 weeks later abandoned in a parking lot. Of course it had been stripped, along with my new CD changer. 

I had decided the relationship was over. Of course it was. Until about 3-4 weeks later when I discovered I was pregnant.

That story will be next...

The Story of bar hopping

*Ben had a knack for just not coming home at night. This is before iPhones. Before you could "track your friends". These were Blackberry days. He worked downtown and a lot of his line of work would be to wine and dine. Funny I was never invited to these events.

One night we were supposed to actually have dinner at home. Together. A rarity.

5:30 came. Then 6. So I called. No answer. 

7 came. 8 o'clock passed. No calls. No answers.

It MAKES YOU CRAZY. They warned me. There were bets on how long the marriage would last. 

We lived almost to Nolensville. I was tired of being the waiting wife that night in particular. A lot of nights when he did come home, I'd be lying there just waiting into the early morning hours. When I heard the garage door, I'd turn out any lights and get still as a mouse. I didn't want him to know I'd been waiting. Pathetic he'd say.

So this one night in particular I was determined to find *Ben. I went alone on a Friday night downtown Nashville to at least 7-8 bars. All these happy, dancing, laughing people. Couples. Friends. They had no idea. I'd search every room. I probably looked like a crazy woman. Crying. Just desperate.

I never did find him that night. He never came home either. One of many. So so many. Not counting the nights he was sleeping in a jail cell. But that's for another story. 

The story of the unfurnished room

Our brain has a way of protecting ourselves by keeping us from remembering all pieces of a traumatic experience or time in our lives. A lot of parts of my first marriage are blurry, just glimpses of time that sometimes pop up, just little bits of certain moments. Not knowing when it happened, why or where along that part of my life it was. Some of it is such a blur...but there is one moment that is played over and over.

We had this nice house, with almost all of the rooms furnished but one. It was to the left when you walked in the front door...I guess what you might call the sitting room. It was carpeted, with a railing around the wall. The rest of the house was furnished with little decor but nice furniture. 

I don't know what I did to set him off in the middle of the day, but I was thrown against the wall in that unfurnished room. My whole body going up in the air and across the room until I hit the railing on the wall and then slid down. Before I could get up I was being kicked. In the stomach. In the back. I fought for him to stop, but he just yelled "crazy bitch" at me and some other things I don't remember.

The next moment his hands were around my neck, choking me. I do remember thinking, this is it. He's going to kill me. I fought and I scratched for what seemed forever. I don't know why, but he let go. Walked upstairs and went to bed. 

I was too scared to call anyone. I may have not been able to. One time he broke my phone on the kitchen floor - but I don't remember if that was this same day.

I went upstairs and laid on the bonus room couch, blankly watching TV. After he woke up, he came in, laid his head in my lap with his pillow, like nothing ever happened. I was too scared to move. The only thing that lingered were the bruises on my neck.