"Choosing trust over doubt gets me burned once in a while, but I'd rather be singed than hardened." -Victoria Monfort

Monday, June 19, 2006

The First Cut Is The Deepest...Part 4...

At first, when our fighting became so bad, I was horrified. How could he do that to me? Who did he think he was? When he calmed down, sure, he felt really bad. He was really apologetic. He paid me loads of attention for days after. The smart me knows this as 'the honeymoon phase' and all abusers do the same thing. To me, it became addictive. A way for me to get him to shower me with affection. I would make up stories to explain how I got bruises. He threw a glass at me once and put a huge gash in my foot, I said I dropped it myself. He'd spit in my face, and throw dog crap at me. Grab me and shake me, push me into walls. He got satisfaction out of the fact that he never hit me in the face. This was some sort of accomplishment to him, and he would throw in my face when I would say he was abusive. Typical. His favorite thing to do, was to push me down. If I got up, he pushed me right back down again. Calling me names the whole time. Until I stopped getting up, and stayed down, crying.

It became sort of a secret life. No one knew about it. Except, as I found out later, our neighbors heard everything. We would have a fight, and go to a family birthday, it was like becoming two different people. We'd smile, and joke, and have a great time together, but it was all fake. All an act so that no one knew what really happened 10 minutes before we left the house. I always say now, what I heard from a professional. If something is so bad in your relationship that you feel the need to hide it, whatever it is, that means it is a problem. It makes sense to most people, but not when you are in it. You think if no one knows you can stay right where you are, safe from being alone. And nothing scared me more than being alone.

He'd tell me that I just push his buttons. I made him crazy. I'd find out later, that it was cocaine that made him crazy, not me at all. I blamed myself for everything. I certainly didn't start out being weak, I fought back. It would get so frequent, and so tiring, that It was almost like a game. I stopped crying about it. I started laughing at him, and doing things right back. Hiding my feelings so that he couldn't get what he wanted, he couldn't make me cry. When I did cry, I was called a crybaby. To this day, I have a very hard time crying, let alone, in front of people. That has stuck with me. It became normal to me, and to this day, affects the unabusive relationships I have. They do not seem normal to me. I know how to handle the crazy ones. I am not so sure about the nice guys.

I always forgave him. Surely he loved me. He loved me so much that he hit me. Hate is part of love, without one you don't have the other. If I made him have those extreme emotions, surely it was love. I found cocaine, and a scale in my car one time. He told me it was his friends. He was selling it. I believed him. When he came home without the money, he told me he threw it out the window and never sold it. I believed him. It was the day he introduced me to who in the future would be the mother of his child. Some young girl on his work softball team. I'm not entirely sure they weren't fucking at the time.

After a year of marriage, we were going to a party one night, and his sister called me, asked if he had talked to me. About what I asked? She wanted to speak to D. They got off the phone. I asked what was going on. He wanted to leave to go to the party. He wouldn't talk about whatever it was, and a few minutes later, the phone rang. It was his sister. Had he talked to me? No, I said. "I gave him the chance" she said. So, she told me. D was cheating on me. With their cousins roomate. She didn't know until that day, but their cousin knew the whole time.

Sick. I was so sick. I felt dirty. I felt used. I felt disgusting. I felt betrayed. He told me it was 'just sex' and can' t we go to that party and talk about it later? Let's just have a baby, it will make everything better. I couldn't breathe. I think my heart literally broke. We were together almost 6 years, to me, he was everything. I didn't want anyone to know, I felt ashamed. I went to his Moms. I felt broken. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I couldn't live. How could he? I couldn't get over how dirty I felt. As if I had been the one who cheated. I asked if he used protection, and he told me that he "tried to" every time. So, on top of everything emotinally I dealt with, I had to go get an STD test, lord knows what kind of disease a husband fucking skank could have! After all that I put up with from him, this was how I was treated. We always had sex. Every night. I thought he'd never cheat on me. It's not about the sex. Cheating is always about how the other bitch makes you feel. We fought all the time, so anyone could have made him feel good.

His sister called this skank with me on the phone. I heard how she said I had nothing to worry about, she didn't want him. It was just sex. She had a kid, she'd sit in front of the TV while she went and screwed my husband. His sister screamed at her. She said what I wished I had the balls to say. Called her a whore. Told her that he is married. Married! To her brother! Told her what she did to me, and how it made me feel. D told skank we were having problems. She brought this up as an excuse. "They were having problems!" This is obviously whore code for "feel free to fuck my husband".

I asked questions. I wanted him to tell me everything. For some reason I had to know. I wanted to know what she did for him. How much he liked it. He wanted it all to go away. Kiss and make up. Forget about it. Have a baby. It'll all get better. Always pushing me to have a baby. I'm so thankful through it all I never let him talk me into it. We went to counseling. That didn't work. He got hurt at work, almost cut his finger off. I went to the hospital and stayed with him. It never was the same finger and barely was useable. This sticks out in my mind because of the woman who called from his job to tell me he had been taken to the hospital.

He cheated on me again. This time he told me. Some girl he worked with. The one who called me when he got hurt. She is the one who took him to the hospital. He said he didn't think he could stop cheating on me. As if it is some tick, like tourette's syndrome. I still couldn't let go. 6 years together. We grew up together. He was my everything. I didn't do anything alone. I didn't shop. I didn't go out. I didn't handle the money. He was everything to me. Without him, I was lost. Yea, it hurt that he cheated. Yet, through all of that, it never once crossed my mind to cheat on him. Ever.

Despite all of the drama in our lives, we managed to stay married 2 years. Just about 2 years to the day.

To be continued...

1 comment:

supplymadam said...

You really went through something with him. Do you ever look back and say "Shoulda,woulda,coulda"? I am sure we all look back and wish we could change things but life doesn't hand us a blueprint and most of us learn some hard lessons. Mostly because we are young a naive and at the the time we "are all knowing".
Did this experience ever make you think of going into counseling being you have first hand experience on what not to do?