When people say "life ain't easy", they weren't fucking around. Really, this is not a post just anyone will want to read. It is going to be long, drawn out, depressing and full of colorful, yet explicit language. Some people may wonder why I am choosing to write about something so personal and private on the world wide web, and I don't really have a good answer for that. Perhaps a part of me is putting it out there to make it more "real" to me, or maybe I am just a jackass...I don't know. I just know I need to get it all out and my family, though they NEVER turn me away, has got to be so tired of listening to my nonsense!
So, here it is...my husband wants a divorce. I am wife #2, and the mother of his three children, ages 3, 17 months and 6 months. We have been together almost 5 years, married 3 years and pretending, almost the entire time, that we had a real relationship. Truth is, we met, and 2 months later, I was pregnant. I did not put any pressure on him to stay with me, in fact, I told him he could walk away free and clear and I would raise the baby by myself. He wanted to stay.
It was obvious about a month or so after I got pregnant, that our relationship wasn't going to be one of fairy tales and romance. We are basically polar opposites. We have separated many times, the first time I was about 8 months pregnant with G. I want to say that if I were smart, I wouldn't have gone back to him at all, but then I wouldn't have little G or E, and I wouldn't trade any of my children for the world. I think I left him 4 or 5 times, and each time I returned home after him telling me he was going to stop lying, or hiding things from me, help more with the kids, stop the verbal abuse, respect me, etc. Every time he promised these things, I was advised from many people that things would probably stay the same, yet I would go back anyway. And sure as the sun rises every morning, he never changed. Things would be okay for a week or two, and then right back to the same old shit.
The last time I left was June 2006. I caught him talking to his ex fiancee, and when I confronted him about it, he made up some lame excuse I didn't fall for. So I called her myself to find out what was going on. I will remember the night as long as I live, I was standing out front of our home with a heavy heart, trying to figure out what was going on, and he came outside, knowing I was on the phone with her, and called me a psycho. He purposely put me down in front of his ex fiancee. I packed my things and left that night.
We were separated for a month or so and then he started with the promises. Obviously, I ended up going back, and a day after returning home I found out he had been talking to her the entire time we were apart. I mean hours and hours of talking, every night. Her number is long distance, and when I saw that the phone bill was missing a page, he lied and said they "must have forgotten it." The next day, I pulled the bill up on line and saw what I had feared all along. He promised he would never talk to her again, he was so sorry, blah, blah. My anxiety was through the roof and I was hurt and angry, but I tried to move forward. A week later, while he was out at a class on a Saturday morning, the credit card bill came in the mail. When I opened that, I saw that not only did he send the ex fiancee two hundred dollar flowers, the DAY AFTER I left, but he also took my little girl an hour away to meet and have lunch with this women. Less than a week after I left him for disrespecting me in front of his ex, he took my child, behind my back to meet her. I felt sick to my stomach. It was the 4th of July, I was supposed to go to work that day...I had to call out because I wasn't able to function properly.
I confronted him, he talked his way out of it. He was so sorry, he loved me, he wanted to be with me, he would do anything to show that to me. I was so confused and hurt and scared and angry, I didn't know what the hell to do. He promised me that was the end, yet, even after finding this stuff out, I caught him talking to her again. He said he "felt bad" for her that he "used" her while I was gone and he didn't want to just blow her off. Finally, I made him call, in front of me, and tell her he would be cutting off all communication with her.
I tried to keep moving forward, but I was a mess inside. I had constant panic attacks, wasn't eating and was exercising like an addict to keep my anxiety manageable. I lost about 40 pounds, and had sex, literally, once or twice...and I got pregnant. I knew in my heart I should have left him, I knew it was a mistake to stay. He was a liar, a cheat and wasn't going to change. But then I was pregnant, and between the stress I had been under and the pregnancy hormones flooding my system, I had a meltdown. You can read more about that in my post about E's Christening.
Once I worked through the meltdown I had, I decided I would stick it out through the pregnancy, and then move on after the baby was born if things didn't improve. He was not supportive through my pregnancy and nothing changed in our relationship. In the meantime, his spending habits were really catching up with us. I begged and pleaded with him to stop with all the spending. He is very materialistic and has to be up there with "The Joneses" He traded his car in every few months, literally, and rolled negative equity into each new vehicle he got. It got so bad, that at one point he owed $60,000 in car loans. His credit card bills were through the roof, but he wouldn't stop spending. He has about 10-12 watches, Movado, at around a thousand a piece. He pays $200 a month for his hair piece, he has to have new clothes and shoes and expensive cigars. He put our family in jeopardy, and ruined his credit.
I planned to leave once little G was about 6 months old, but that didn't exactly work out as planned. I am not making this up, we had sex ONE time in over a year, and I ended up pregnant with E. Little G was just 2 months old, and I was pregnant again. Now, anyone who knows me well, can vouch for the fact that "intimacy" was a huge problem in our relationship. He has the drive of a 95 year old women that died five years ago. Seriously.
Anyway, I couldn't really up and go with a 2 year old, a newborn and another baby on the way...so I stayed. Nothing changed. I caught him having conversations with a girl he works with late at night. He claims it was innocent, that she is the girlfriend of another guy in the office, and he just talked to her to vent. Whatever, I don't believe him anyway. E was born in March, after struggling for a couple months with high blood pressure, bed rest and absolutely NO support from him. I remember one evening when I was supposed to be on bed rest, his mother was over to help him with the kids. He wanted to order a pizza for dinner, and I told him there was frozen pizza in the freezer, it is cheaper and to just make that instead. He wasn't very happy about that, and mumbled all the way down the stairs about how controlling I am. I swear, he came upstairs 20 minutes later, demanding that I get out of bed to come look at the pizza to see if it was done or not. I was baffled, and kinda thought he was joking. He wasn't. I asked him if he cooked it according to the directions, he said yes. I said "then it's done." He still continued to harp on me about going to check it. I asked if the cheese was melted, he said he thinks so. I said it was done, just go eat it. He still gave me a hard time. Finally I told him that there was a serious fucking problem if neither he nor his mother could figure out if a frozen fucking pizza was cooked, and if they had doubts, ask G, you know, the 3 year old...I am sure she could figure it out.
So, here we are now. He is insisting on a divorce, he wants to go get an apartment and move on. I am torn. Deep down inside, I know that is the best thing for everyone involved, given that he isn't capable of changing. It is sad that he wasn't able to stop lying to me, being verbally abusive, hiding money from me when we are struggling a bit financially right now. I am not claiming to be innocent, because I do fight back, and I can be a cruel, cold hearted bitch. I know what buttons to push, and I will cut you like a knife if I need to. We have both said some horrible, hurtful things...things that will never be forgotten.
At the same time, I am sad and scared. I have 3 small children, and he wants to leave...what do I do? I am a nurse, and capable of making a decent living, but what do I do with the kids? Not only would it break my heart to have to put the two little ones in daycare (G is a little older and loves being with other kids) but how could I afford it? He went out this afternoon to look at apartments, while I am at home with my 3 children, trying to clean and get prepared for my babies christening tomorrow. How can he just walk away without worrying what I will do to make it? Yeah, I know, there is child support...but my God, I struggle with the kids now, I am terrified about being on my own, working full time and then coming home to be a single mother of three small kids. Meanwhile, he will be out living the good single life. How is that fair? Not that I would want him to have custody of my children, if this is what he wants, then he can be a weekend dad and go fuck himself...but it still kills me inside to know that he would rather walk away, at this point in time, than to stick it out, really try to improve, seek therapy...something. I forgot to mention, we have seen 4 different marriage counselors, starting when I was pregnant with G...none of them did us any good.
So, is it the change I am afraid of? I know it is going to be hard and I am scared to be a single mom. I am scared to face the dating scene again, someday. (Not that dating is going to be an option for some time, but still, just sayin.) Where will I live? I certainly can't stay here, in the home I brought all three of my children home from the hospital to. The house I put my blood, sweat and tears into making a home. How do I leave the kid's rooms that I so thoughtfully, and with love, painted, decorated and felt proud to have done all that work for each one of them? I cannot afford to stay here, no matter how many hours I worked...and that rips me apart. This is my home. This is where my children play, eat and sleep. This is where we live, and he is taking all that away from us. He made that decision, how is that fair?
It is after midnight, and I am having a houseful of people tomorrow after E's baptism. I don't want to see his family. He has taken our personal business and spewed it all to his mother, and she gossips like a teenager in the school bathroom...meaning everyone knows at this point. And, unlike my family who can step back and see that both of us have faults, his family tends to think I am the enemy. This is all my fault. We don't have financial problems because R spends too much, it is because I don't work. Well, forgive me for being a dipshit, but remember those three kids I am raising? We have a horrible romantic relationship, but, "his father was the same way"...oh, right...that makes it all better then. Fuck, why am I even trying to explain any of this? It is what it is, and will be what it will be. I cannot change him, I cannot change the situation. He wants to leave, and I am hot and cold about it. Although our relationship sucks, it has still been my life for half a decade and change is scary. Imagining my children with another women in their lives makes me want to burst into tears. I don't want to share holiday's, I don't want to argue over who gets to claim who on the tax returns, I don't want to have to worry about the safety of my kids when they aren't with me, I don't want my baby to be taken away for overnight visits with a father she hardly knows.
I just want more time. I knew it would come to this at some point, I just thought I had more time. But I don't. I am going to get divorced, become a statistic and struggle for a long time to put the pieces back together. If you made it this far, thanks for reading and keep your fingers crossed for me.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Well, color me stupid!
I am a nurse. I went to college and graduated, top of my class, with a 4.0 GPA. I was class valedictorian. I am an excellent nurse. I have saved people's lives and held the hands of people taking their last breath. I take great pride in my work and have received many compliments and words of appreciation, not only from patients, but from their family members as well. I have attended funerals for people I have cared for and grew to love. I have testified in court on behalf of a women, who had just died of cancer way too young, and had a family battling her only sister for the inheritence she left her. I have seen people at their best and at their worst. I have watched people loose their pride and dignity after losing the ability to care for themselves in the most personal of ways. I have watched people cry over their lost independence and struggle with their new circumstances. I love being a nurse and I am proud of what I do.
I also have three children, and to put them in daycare for me to work outside of the home would be pointless. It would cost a fortune and be close to a wash for our kids to be raised by strangers. My husband makes a good living and I am blessed to be able to stay home with my kids. Husband would rather I go out to work.
When he got home from work tonight, I had already fed the kids, but they all needed baths before bed. I give 98% of the baths in our home, always have. Shortly after coming in from work, he went out back to smoke a cigar. Close to 7:30, I went out back and asked him to come in and help me with the baths. He made it more than clear he wasn't happy about that idea. Kid #1 and #2 take a bath together upstairs, and #3 still gets her bath in the small bathtub in the kitchen. So he asked me if I could give #3 a bath and then give #2 a bath in #3's baby tub. I said no, she is too big and she likes to play with #1 in the bath. Again, he made it clear he less than thrilled about this.
When he came inside, I was giving #3 her bath and he asked me where the towels were for #1 and 2. I told him I had some in the wash and that I wasn't sure, he would have to look upstairs for some. He said he wasn't going to look upstair, for me to just tell him exactly where they are or he wasn't going to give any baths at all. I said "yeah, gof forbid you have to give your own kids a bath." And he said back "it is part of your duty." I was dumbfounded. I asked him to repeat himself and he said "you know, it's part of the $100,000 salary the Today Show says you stay at home moms should get. You should be doing the baths and you should be able to tell me exactly where the towels are as you are also responsible for the washing." I wanted to kick him in the nuts, instead, I said nothing at all.
About a half hour ago, he asked me why I was going upstairs and what was he supposed to do with #2? I told him I was going to put #3 to bed and that #2's bottle was made and in the fridge when she was ready for it. He complained more. I told him it had been a long day, I still had things to get done and hadn't had dinner myself yet. He said to me "Neither did I, you should have had that taken care of that. Instead you only fed the kids...I didn't think it was in the job discription to do things half way."
Um, seriously...I don't know when my husband turned into a womanizing pig, but I am appalled by his comments. Now I know why Loraina Bobbet did what she did to that mans penis!
I also have three children, and to put them in daycare for me to work outside of the home would be pointless. It would cost a fortune and be close to a wash for our kids to be raised by strangers. My husband makes a good living and I am blessed to be able to stay home with my kids. Husband would rather I go out to work.
When he got home from work tonight, I had already fed the kids, but they all needed baths before bed. I give 98% of the baths in our home, always have. Shortly after coming in from work, he went out back to smoke a cigar. Close to 7:30, I went out back and asked him to come in and help me with the baths. He made it more than clear he wasn't happy about that idea. Kid #1 and #2 take a bath together upstairs, and #3 still gets her bath in the small bathtub in the kitchen. So he asked me if I could give #3 a bath and then give #2 a bath in #3's baby tub. I said no, she is too big and she likes to play with #1 in the bath. Again, he made it clear he less than thrilled about this.
When he came inside, I was giving #3 her bath and he asked me where the towels were for #1 and 2. I told him I had some in the wash and that I wasn't sure, he would have to look upstairs for some. He said he wasn't going to look upstair, for me to just tell him exactly where they are or he wasn't going to give any baths at all. I said "yeah, gof forbid you have to give your own kids a bath." And he said back "it is part of your duty." I was dumbfounded. I asked him to repeat himself and he said "you know, it's part of the $100,000 salary the Today Show says you stay at home moms should get. You should be doing the baths and you should be able to tell me exactly where the towels are as you are also responsible for the washing." I wanted to kick him in the nuts, instead, I said nothing at all.
About a half hour ago, he asked me why I was going upstairs and what was he supposed to do with #2? I told him I was going to put #3 to bed and that #2's bottle was made and in the fridge when she was ready for it. He complained more. I told him it had been a long day, I still had things to get done and hadn't had dinner myself yet. He said to me "Neither did I, you should have had that taken care of that. Instead you only fed the kids...I didn't think it was in the job discription to do things half way."
Um, seriously...I don't know when my husband turned into a womanizing pig, but I am appalled by his comments. Now I know why Loraina Bobbet did what she did to that mans penis!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Sean...take three!
So, I sat in the waiting room with my Mom for what felt like forever waiting for the doctors to come tell us Sean was ok. It was dark out, and the hospital was empty. It seemed surreal, sitting there, fearing the worst but desperatly begging the powers that be for the best. I tried to get in touch with Sean's family, but his Mom was at a baseball game and his Dad was at the shore. Finally, the doctors came out and told us that things went well and he was doing ok. He said I could see him in a little while, once he was awake. I remember his Mom finally getting to the hospital right about the time we were able to go see him. It was late, maybe 10 or 11 at night, and I wanted nothing more than to just sit by his bedside and hold his hand until he was all better. My Mom went home after popping in to see him. I assumed his Mom would be staying the night, but after about 45 minutes, they (her and her husband) were heading on home! They tried to convince me to go with them and come back in the morning and it made me want to cry. How could any mother leave their child lying in an ICU, just hours after having major surgery and remains in critical condition? I politely declined their offer to go home with them, I wasn't leaving him...no way, not for a second. At one point, the nurses made me leave his bedside...I fell asleep on a chair in the waiting room and spent the rest of the night there.
There was a lot of "drama" that happened while he was in the hospital. I guess he spent about 3 weeks there, and it was a long, painful recovery. I remember the tears in his eyes when they made him get out of the bed to do physical therapy. The pain so bad even the morphine wasn't helping him. His father never liked me. He was (is?) an alcoholic, a womanizer and an asshole. There were times, before this incident, we would be having dinner at his father's house and for no reason, his father would start talking about how Sean wasn't going to spend his life with me, how he was going to get hookers for them while they went away on weekend fishing trips, how I was just a girl he was passing his time with. I remember leaving the table many time, crying and in shock. Sean wasn't very good at standing up to his Dad, and we fought a lot about his inability to say no to him, when he was so good at saying it to me.
His brother was another problem. He hated the fact that Sean moved out with me. He had been living with his brother prior to us moving in together, and I "stole" him away. So, I spent day in and day out at that hospital with him. I made sure he had everything he needed and felt safe and comfortable and loved. Yet, when it came time to talk discharge and the care he would need while recovering at home, he decided to go stay with his Mom rather than come back with me. Why?...well, because his Mom asked him to, and he wouldn't dare tell her no!
So, they set up a bed in the dining room of her home and he moved in there to recover. I still spent every moment I could with him. Sometimes I stayed the night with him, mind you we had been together 4 years at this point and had lived together for over 2 of those four years! Anyway, while his Mom was always kind to me, his father continued to cause drama. He would invite Sean out to lunch, but make it clear that I wasn't welcome. And Sean wouldn't say a word about it, he would just go to lunch to please his father.
He recovered and went back to live with his brother (which is where he was living before the accident) and we continued to be together. He would stay many nights at my house and we were talking about moving back in together. But the family drama and the constant struggle of powere between me and his father and brother was just too much. We ended up splitting again around November 2000. A few days before Christmas that same year, a ring Sean had gotten me for "being there for him while he was in the hospital" had broken. The prong broke and the stone fell out. I had the stone and wanted to get it fixed, so I called him to ask if he had the receipt. He did, and said he would bring it over.
He came over and we acted like shy, love struck teenagers! We were giddy and akward and ended up getting back together. Things were good for a while. I was starting nursing school in February and the second anniversary of my brothers death was rapidly approaching. His father wanted him to go on some fishing trip to Florida for a week, and one of the days he would be gone was the court date that was scheduled for the trial for the man the killed my brother. I begged and pleaded with him not to go away...I needed him with me. He hadn't come to any other court hearings with me, and I didn't pressure him to, but this one was big...and I really needed him to support me. Of course this pissed his Dad off, but Sean ended up finding a way to still go on the trip and shut me up as well. He booked himself an earlier flight home in time to be in court with me. I was still disapointed that he was going, but whatever, at least he would be there.
On the second anniversary of my brothers death, Sean and I were going out for dinner and drinks with friends. We went to Ruby Tuesdays, and I got smashed. I am talking drunk, drunk! We got back to my house and had sex, and at some point either during or after having sex, we started fighting. I was angry because we had been together so long and he still hadn't asked me to marry him, I wanted to have children, blah, blah. While there was much truth behind what I was saying, it was very obviously the wrong time and place to be discussing these things! He kept asking me to stop, but I wouldn't let up. He eventually got mad and went downstairs. I passed out.
I woke in the morning to find him down on the couch. I felt like hell and apologized up and down for what had happened. He was angry, very angry. We fought and were getting no where with the fighting. He said he was leaving, and I told him if he left not to come back. He turned and walked out the door...and I never saw him or heard from him again.
I remember going to my Dad's for some type of get together later that night and everyone asked where Sean was. I told them we had a fight, but I was sure it would blow over and we would be fine tomorrow. But that tomorrow never came. He left flowers at my brother's grave site on his birthday a few months later, and then again on his anniversary the following year. And then that stopped too.
I miss him and think of him often. I was in such a bad place in my life after losing my brother. I had no idea what to do with my grief and was looking for someone to fix me. Instead, I further damaged a relationship that was having troubles of its own before my grief hit. I wonder how he is doing now, if he is married, has kids. I wonder what things would be like if we were still together. I wonder what would happen if I were to run in to him. I hope that someday I get that chance, if for no other reason, at least for closure. He is a part of my heart that is still open...a part of me will always love that Sean!
There was a lot of "drama" that happened while he was in the hospital. I guess he spent about 3 weeks there, and it was a long, painful recovery. I remember the tears in his eyes when they made him get out of the bed to do physical therapy. The pain so bad even the morphine wasn't helping him. His father never liked me. He was (is?) an alcoholic, a womanizer and an asshole. There were times, before this incident, we would be having dinner at his father's house and for no reason, his father would start talking about how Sean wasn't going to spend his life with me, how he was going to get hookers for them while they went away on weekend fishing trips, how I was just a girl he was passing his time with. I remember leaving the table many time, crying and in shock. Sean wasn't very good at standing up to his Dad, and we fought a lot about his inability to say no to him, when he was so good at saying it to me.
His brother was another problem. He hated the fact that Sean moved out with me. He had been living with his brother prior to us moving in together, and I "stole" him away. So, I spent day in and day out at that hospital with him. I made sure he had everything he needed and felt safe and comfortable and loved. Yet, when it came time to talk discharge and the care he would need while recovering at home, he decided to go stay with his Mom rather than come back with me. Why?...well, because his Mom asked him to, and he wouldn't dare tell her no!
So, they set up a bed in the dining room of her home and he moved in there to recover. I still spent every moment I could with him. Sometimes I stayed the night with him, mind you we had been together 4 years at this point and had lived together for over 2 of those four years! Anyway, while his Mom was always kind to me, his father continued to cause drama. He would invite Sean out to lunch, but make it clear that I wasn't welcome. And Sean wouldn't say a word about it, he would just go to lunch to please his father.
He recovered and went back to live with his brother (which is where he was living before the accident) and we continued to be together. He would stay many nights at my house and we were talking about moving back in together. But the family drama and the constant struggle of powere between me and his father and brother was just too much. We ended up splitting again around November 2000. A few days before Christmas that same year, a ring Sean had gotten me for "being there for him while he was in the hospital" had broken. The prong broke and the stone fell out. I had the stone and wanted to get it fixed, so I called him to ask if he had the receipt. He did, and said he would bring it over.
He came over and we acted like shy, love struck teenagers! We were giddy and akward and ended up getting back together. Things were good for a while. I was starting nursing school in February and the second anniversary of my brothers death was rapidly approaching. His father wanted him to go on some fishing trip to Florida for a week, and one of the days he would be gone was the court date that was scheduled for the trial for the man the killed my brother. I begged and pleaded with him not to go away...I needed him with me. He hadn't come to any other court hearings with me, and I didn't pressure him to, but this one was big...and I really needed him to support me. Of course this pissed his Dad off, but Sean ended up finding a way to still go on the trip and shut me up as well. He booked himself an earlier flight home in time to be in court with me. I was still disapointed that he was going, but whatever, at least he would be there.
On the second anniversary of my brothers death, Sean and I were going out for dinner and drinks with friends. We went to Ruby Tuesdays, and I got smashed. I am talking drunk, drunk! We got back to my house and had sex, and at some point either during or after having sex, we started fighting. I was angry because we had been together so long and he still hadn't asked me to marry him, I wanted to have children, blah, blah. While there was much truth behind what I was saying, it was very obviously the wrong time and place to be discussing these things! He kept asking me to stop, but I wouldn't let up. He eventually got mad and went downstairs. I passed out.
I woke in the morning to find him down on the couch. I felt like hell and apologized up and down for what had happened. He was angry, very angry. We fought and were getting no where with the fighting. He said he was leaving, and I told him if he left not to come back. He turned and walked out the door...and I never saw him or heard from him again.
I remember going to my Dad's for some type of get together later that night and everyone asked where Sean was. I told them we had a fight, but I was sure it would blow over and we would be fine tomorrow. But that tomorrow never came. He left flowers at my brother's grave site on his birthday a few months later, and then again on his anniversary the following year. And then that stopped too.
I miss him and think of him often. I was in such a bad place in my life after losing my brother. I had no idea what to do with my grief and was looking for someone to fix me. Instead, I further damaged a relationship that was having troubles of its own before my grief hit. I wonder how he is doing now, if he is married, has kids. I wonder what things would be like if we were still together. I wonder what would happen if I were to run in to him. I hope that someday I get that chance, if for no other reason, at least for closure. He is a part of my heart that is still open...a part of me will always love that Sean!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
My own hell
I honestly feel like I am trapped in hell! I am so unhappy with my life, my married life, that is, but I feel so helpless. It has been a horrible few days. Thursday, I realized my husband has been hiding money. He canceled his direct deposit a few months back, and claimed it was because they were charging him too much money to use it. I told him that was ridiculous, and that I needed the direct deposit because of the way the bills are scheduled online. I asked him to have it restarted, and he said he would. Weeks went by and it still wasn't there.
When we went on vacation the end of August, he gave my 400 dollars a few days before we were to leave and told me he got it from doing a project for his old boss. I thought it sounded a little odd, but didn't think too much about it. I guess I should mention, my husband has a compulsive spending problem. He makes a good living, but he spends way too much money. He buys expensive watches (a lot of them), traded in cars every couple months ending up with more and more negative equity that was being rolled into each new car he got. He was always buying new clothes or shoes, justifying the purchases beacuse they were on sale. I warned him for a long time about his spending. I begged and pleaded with him to stop. He had about 15 different credit cards, and at one point, he ended up with 60,000 in credit card debt, and 40,000 in car loans. (I forgot to mention, two cars he bought out right without even discussing it with me first, one the night before our wedding and another a few days before my birthday. Both were Mustangs and both ended up being sold a few months after he bought them for less than what he paid for them.)
Anyway, he ended up having to file bankruptsy late last year. He blamed me. He says that he was always able to buy whatever he wanted before he was with me, and never had trouble with debt. I point out to him over and over again that he was single, living in a small home with an 800 dollar mortgage as opposed to a 2400 dollar mortgage and didn't have 3 children to support. He doesn't get it and still thinks it is all my fault. Mind you, I am one of the least materialistic people you can ever meet. I don't have much of value, wear a 30 dollar watch and only have 3 pair of shoes!
So, on Thursday, when I discovered four hundred dollars in his wallet, I knew something was going on. His direct deposit, two months later, has still not been restarted. He kept blaming the company, but now I know he was purposely holding it back. I am not sure what he was doing with whatever extra money he was getting, actually, I don't know that I want to know. What I do know is we struggle every month to pay all our bills and buy everything else we need, and he is with holding money from us. What a hell of a good guy he is.
So we have really been fighting the last few days. Today, he is adament about wanting a divorce. I don't want to be married to him, but I cannot leave my kids with him and feel safe for any length of time. Some may feel that is an excuse, but honestly, he is dangerous. He is selfish, careless and doesn't think ahead. His mother, who is ALWAYS around and would definitely be there 24/7 when he had the kids, is even more dangerous. I caught her feeding peanut butter, off her dirty fingers, to my 8 month old. I have asked her so many times not to do or give something to the kids, and she does it behind my back anyway. I have caught her stealing from my home, lying to our faces and putting my children in danger...and I am supposed to feel ok with my kids (all 3 and under) in her care?
My husband takes medicine for high cholesterol and antidepressant. There have been about 25 occassions that I have either picked a pill he dropped up off the floor or have caught my 3 year old carrying one around. That scares the hell out of me. What if one of the kids swallowed one? How can I risk their well being just because I am miserable in my marriage? I just feel I need to wait until they are a little older before I can safely leave them in his care. Even if it is only every other weekend and a day or two a week.
I hurt inside. I so badly long for the right person, for the right relationship. I want to be happy again, I want to feel like I am enjoying my life. Right now, I feel like a shell of a person going through the motions. Of course I have my kids, and I love them more than you could ever know, but there is something missing. I guess it isn't even the relationship part that is missing. I would be happier living alone, without the fighting, the name calling, the lying, the anger. The kids would be happier, I would be happier and could finally start to enjoy things again.
For the entire 5 years we have been together, sex has been a huge issue. He has major issues and promises to get help, but doesn't. I know we have 3 children, close in age, and most people would assume we have a healthy, active sexual life. In all honesty, I think we have had sex less than 30 times TOTAL in our entire relationship. He makes up excuses why he doesn't want to have sex. We fight too much, I gained too much weight, I am pregnant, he has a headache, too much stress in his life, etc. He says he will fix the problem, and doesn't. Then, on top of being turned down time after time, he masterbates in his socks and leaves them lying on the floor for me to pick up and wash. This has been going on for FIVE long years. He has gotten smarter over the years, he hides them now. But I still find them, shoved behind the clothes in a drawer, tucked into the bottom of the trash can, in the back of the closet, etc. And what I don't find, the dog sometimes does. It is sickening, and hurtful and has done a lot of damage to my heart and soul, not to mention my ego.
I am an intimate person. I like to be close, not just sexually, and I have been deprived of that for so long. I hate him for what he has done to me. And I hate myself sometimes for letting him. I know I cannot act like a victim when I choose to stay here under these conditions. I just don't know what else to do. If I felt just a little bit comfortable with him taking the kids, the younger two are my main concern as they are only 17 months and 5 months, it wouldn't be an issue. I would have moved on by now. My plan, after getting pregnant with my second child, was to have the baby and then leave him. My pregnancy was horrible, especially the beginning when I literally suffered a nervous breakdown because of his cheating, his lies and the death of a family member that I had never dealt with. He is not involved in my pregnancies and he is not supportive of a pregnant persons needs either. We fought pretty much the entire 9 months, and then my beautiful little girl was born.
We hadn't had sex since the time I conceived the baby, so about 5 weeks after she was born, I was feeling pretty frustrated sexually. For some reason, he didn't shoot me down when I asked, and that's all it took. I was pregnant again. That pretty much put a damper on my plans to leave him. And so we suffered through another 9 months, and when my second daughter was just barely 11 months old, our third child was born. She is now 5 months old.
I have a headache thinking about all of this. I hate it, I hate it so much. I hate that I am not able to work because daycare would cost pretty much what I would make. Without being able to go out and work, I cannot save any money to get a plan together to leave. I don't know where I would go with 3 kids or how I would handle it all on my own. It is scary. And how would I work then? There is so much to think about. Most days, I wish he would just leave me. He says he doesn't want to be married, so why doesn't he just get up and go?
I am going to stop thinking about this now. I will pick up where I left off with Sean next time. He is MUCH more peasurable to think about! Should have stuck with him!
When we went on vacation the end of August, he gave my 400 dollars a few days before we were to leave and told me he got it from doing a project for his old boss. I thought it sounded a little odd, but didn't think too much about it. I guess I should mention, my husband has a compulsive spending problem. He makes a good living, but he spends way too much money. He buys expensive watches (a lot of them), traded in cars every couple months ending up with more and more negative equity that was being rolled into each new car he got. He was always buying new clothes or shoes, justifying the purchases beacuse they were on sale. I warned him for a long time about his spending. I begged and pleaded with him to stop. He had about 15 different credit cards, and at one point, he ended up with 60,000 in credit card debt, and 40,000 in car loans. (I forgot to mention, two cars he bought out right without even discussing it with me first, one the night before our wedding and another a few days before my birthday. Both were Mustangs and both ended up being sold a few months after he bought them for less than what he paid for them.)
Anyway, he ended up having to file bankruptsy late last year. He blamed me. He says that he was always able to buy whatever he wanted before he was with me, and never had trouble with debt. I point out to him over and over again that he was single, living in a small home with an 800 dollar mortgage as opposed to a 2400 dollar mortgage and didn't have 3 children to support. He doesn't get it and still thinks it is all my fault. Mind you, I am one of the least materialistic people you can ever meet. I don't have much of value, wear a 30 dollar watch and only have 3 pair of shoes!
So, on Thursday, when I discovered four hundred dollars in his wallet, I knew something was going on. His direct deposit, two months later, has still not been restarted. He kept blaming the company, but now I know he was purposely holding it back. I am not sure what he was doing with whatever extra money he was getting, actually, I don't know that I want to know. What I do know is we struggle every month to pay all our bills and buy everything else we need, and he is with holding money from us. What a hell of a good guy he is.
So we have really been fighting the last few days. Today, he is adament about wanting a divorce. I don't want to be married to him, but I cannot leave my kids with him and feel safe for any length of time. Some may feel that is an excuse, but honestly, he is dangerous. He is selfish, careless and doesn't think ahead. His mother, who is ALWAYS around and would definitely be there 24/7 when he had the kids, is even more dangerous. I caught her feeding peanut butter, off her dirty fingers, to my 8 month old. I have asked her so many times not to do or give something to the kids, and she does it behind my back anyway. I have caught her stealing from my home, lying to our faces and putting my children in danger...and I am supposed to feel ok with my kids (all 3 and under) in her care?
My husband takes medicine for high cholesterol and antidepressant. There have been about 25 occassions that I have either picked a pill he dropped up off the floor or have caught my 3 year old carrying one around. That scares the hell out of me. What if one of the kids swallowed one? How can I risk their well being just because I am miserable in my marriage? I just feel I need to wait until they are a little older before I can safely leave them in his care. Even if it is only every other weekend and a day or two a week.
I hurt inside. I so badly long for the right person, for the right relationship. I want to be happy again, I want to feel like I am enjoying my life. Right now, I feel like a shell of a person going through the motions. Of course I have my kids, and I love them more than you could ever know, but there is something missing. I guess it isn't even the relationship part that is missing. I would be happier living alone, without the fighting, the name calling, the lying, the anger. The kids would be happier, I would be happier and could finally start to enjoy things again.
For the entire 5 years we have been together, sex has been a huge issue. He has major issues and promises to get help, but doesn't. I know we have 3 children, close in age, and most people would assume we have a healthy, active sexual life. In all honesty, I think we have had sex less than 30 times TOTAL in our entire relationship. He makes up excuses why he doesn't want to have sex. We fight too much, I gained too much weight, I am pregnant, he has a headache, too much stress in his life, etc. He says he will fix the problem, and doesn't. Then, on top of being turned down time after time, he masterbates in his socks and leaves them lying on the floor for me to pick up and wash. This has been going on for FIVE long years. He has gotten smarter over the years, he hides them now. But I still find them, shoved behind the clothes in a drawer, tucked into the bottom of the trash can, in the back of the closet, etc. And what I don't find, the dog sometimes does. It is sickening, and hurtful and has done a lot of damage to my heart and soul, not to mention my ego.
I am an intimate person. I like to be close, not just sexually, and I have been deprived of that for so long. I hate him for what he has done to me. And I hate myself sometimes for letting him. I know I cannot act like a victim when I choose to stay here under these conditions. I just don't know what else to do. If I felt just a little bit comfortable with him taking the kids, the younger two are my main concern as they are only 17 months and 5 months, it wouldn't be an issue. I would have moved on by now. My plan, after getting pregnant with my second child, was to have the baby and then leave him. My pregnancy was horrible, especially the beginning when I literally suffered a nervous breakdown because of his cheating, his lies and the death of a family member that I had never dealt with. He is not involved in my pregnancies and he is not supportive of a pregnant persons needs either. We fought pretty much the entire 9 months, and then my beautiful little girl was born.
We hadn't had sex since the time I conceived the baby, so about 5 weeks after she was born, I was feeling pretty frustrated sexually. For some reason, he didn't shoot me down when I asked, and that's all it took. I was pregnant again. That pretty much put a damper on my plans to leave him. And so we suffered through another 9 months, and when my second daughter was just barely 11 months old, our third child was born. She is now 5 months old.
I have a headache thinking about all of this. I hate it, I hate it so much. I hate that I am not able to work because daycare would cost pretty much what I would make. Without being able to go out and work, I cannot save any money to get a plan together to leave. I don't know where I would go with 3 kids or how I would handle it all on my own. It is scary. And how would I work then? There is so much to think about. Most days, I wish he would just leave me. He says he doesn't want to be married, so why doesn't he just get up and go?
I am going to stop thinking about this now. I will pick up where I left off with Sean next time. He is MUCH more peasurable to think about! Should have stuck with him!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Back to Sean
Our relationship continued to blossom. He was shy, I am outgoing and we created a nice balance together. We had fun and he made me feel all "gooey" inside! He had a good job, lived in his own place and had himself together, especially for a 19 year old. I fell hard for him.
Although we got along well and spent much time together, it was tough getting him to really commit to me at first. He just seemed reserved, scared almost. He fought moving forward to the next level of the relationship. Several months after we started dating, my sister was getting married and having s destination wedding. I asked him to come along with me, and he was hesitant. You could tell he wanted to go, and he did end up going, but he was nervous about taking big steps.
So after we had been together about a year, we decided to get our own place together. I had just turned 21 and he was 20. We found a great deal on a nice little townhome that we rented from someone we knew. Our relationship had officially gone to the next level. Things were good! We were having fun, and we were happy. After a year or so, we started to have some problems. Mainly money problems. He made good money and had a good job working in heating and air conditioning. He was a hard worker and took pride in what he did, he also liked to have nice things. I, on the other hand, was a bit of a slacker! I worked, jumping from job to job and most months I wasn't able to pay the bills I was responsible for. Of course hindsight is always 20/20! If only I knew then...
He would get upset with me and it would cause arguements. And after this pattern continued for well over 6 months, it was really affecting our relationship. In October of 1998, my father got a rare disease called Gullian Barre, and was paralyzed completely, on a ventilator and bedridden in the ICU for 28 days. It was a horrible, scary time and no one knew what to expect. One day my Dad was healthy and playing golf, and the next morning he had a hard time standing. He went to the hospital and by the end of the night, he was unable to breathe on his own. Although he made a full recovery, Sean wasn't much support while going through the process. We didn't know how things would turn out with my Dad and we were all afraid. I needed him to be there for me, and he wasn't. By Thanksgiving, my Dad was home and thnkfully made a full recovery.
I remember sitting down in our living room with Sean one morning, it was February of 1999. I told him that I thought it would be best if he moved out for a while. I thought we needed a break and some time apart may do us good. I looked up at him, and saw tears in his eyes. I hurt him, me asking him to go hurt him enough to make him cry. I had never seen that kind of emotion in him before. He promised me we would work on making things better together, and asked me to give it a month before we made any final decisions. I agreed.
A couple weeks later, my brother was killed in a car accident. My entire world shattered, and Sean and our problems were the least of my concerns. In fact, aside from the initial days and weeks following my brothers death, Sean was actually rather distant. I don't think he knew what to do or say. He basically avoided the subject when he could. Again, hindsight being 20/20...my God, we were only kids ourselves. I was just turning 23 he was not even 22 yet and here we were facing the death of my brother (who was 2 years younger than me and my best friend in the world) together.
His distance pushed me further away. I began staying up all night long, making friends on the internet and drinking way too much. In June of 1999, I met a very dear friend online, Justin. Justin lived 18 hours away from me, but saved me in so many ways. We began an on line friendship that gave me hope. He helped me through the darkest time I had ever experienced in life, he became my support person. I fell in love with a man I didn't even know. Meanwhile, my relationship with Sean continued to suffer. And a little over a year after my brother died, he moved out.
Sean had always wanted to get a mototcycle, I hated them and begged him not to. A week after moving out, he bought himself one. I was angry, and scared. We went a couple weeks without really speaking, but then started we started seeing each other again. One Friday evening, he was coming over for the night. It was just a little after dinner time on a summer day. He was riding his motorcycle over. The phone rang and I answered to a paramedic calling to tell me Sean had been in an accident. She assured me he was ok, and told me they were taking him to a trauma center to be seen. She put him on the phone, and he told me he was ok. He said his knee hurt, but other than that, he was fine. I was still in a panic. I called a friend who lived across the street and asked her to please come over quickly to ride out there with me. I called my family on the way.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was informed that they were prepping him for surgery. I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening, I had just lost my brother and Sean told me he was fine, just banged his knee. We were told to go sit in this room (not a waiting room) and someone would be in to speak with us. Those were the longest minutes of my life. Finally, a doctor came in, carrying a bag of clothes, his jacket and motorcycle helmet. I thought for sure he was gone. The doctor told me that he was in very serious condition. He had injured his liver, kidney spleen. He had internal bleeding, a damaged portion of his bowel and severe burns on parts of his body from sliding across the pavement. He said it would be ok for me to walk back and see him quickly before they took him in for surgery.
I remember walking back into that cold room, seeing him lying there on that stretcher. He was pale, there was fear in his eyes and I could tell he just wanted to cry while someone held him tight and told him he would be ok. I kissed him, told him I loved him...and they wheeled him away.
Although we got along well and spent much time together, it was tough getting him to really commit to me at first. He just seemed reserved, scared almost. He fought moving forward to the next level of the relationship. Several months after we started dating, my sister was getting married and having s destination wedding. I asked him to come along with me, and he was hesitant. You could tell he wanted to go, and he did end up going, but he was nervous about taking big steps.
So after we had been together about a year, we decided to get our own place together. I had just turned 21 and he was 20. We found a great deal on a nice little townhome that we rented from someone we knew. Our relationship had officially gone to the next level. Things were good! We were having fun, and we were happy. After a year or so, we started to have some problems. Mainly money problems. He made good money and had a good job working in heating and air conditioning. He was a hard worker and took pride in what he did, he also liked to have nice things. I, on the other hand, was a bit of a slacker! I worked, jumping from job to job and most months I wasn't able to pay the bills I was responsible for. Of course hindsight is always 20/20! If only I knew then...
He would get upset with me and it would cause arguements. And after this pattern continued for well over 6 months, it was really affecting our relationship. In October of 1998, my father got a rare disease called Gullian Barre, and was paralyzed completely, on a ventilator and bedridden in the ICU for 28 days. It was a horrible, scary time and no one knew what to expect. One day my Dad was healthy and playing golf, and the next morning he had a hard time standing. He went to the hospital and by the end of the night, he was unable to breathe on his own. Although he made a full recovery, Sean wasn't much support while going through the process. We didn't know how things would turn out with my Dad and we were all afraid. I needed him to be there for me, and he wasn't. By Thanksgiving, my Dad was home and thnkfully made a full recovery.
I remember sitting down in our living room with Sean one morning, it was February of 1999. I told him that I thought it would be best if he moved out for a while. I thought we needed a break and some time apart may do us good. I looked up at him, and saw tears in his eyes. I hurt him, me asking him to go hurt him enough to make him cry. I had never seen that kind of emotion in him before. He promised me we would work on making things better together, and asked me to give it a month before we made any final decisions. I agreed.
A couple weeks later, my brother was killed in a car accident. My entire world shattered, and Sean and our problems were the least of my concerns. In fact, aside from the initial days and weeks following my brothers death, Sean was actually rather distant. I don't think he knew what to do or say. He basically avoided the subject when he could. Again, hindsight being 20/20...my God, we were only kids ourselves. I was just turning 23 he was not even 22 yet and here we were facing the death of my brother (who was 2 years younger than me and my best friend in the world) together.
His distance pushed me further away. I began staying up all night long, making friends on the internet and drinking way too much. In June of 1999, I met a very dear friend online, Justin. Justin lived 18 hours away from me, but saved me in so many ways. We began an on line friendship that gave me hope. He helped me through the darkest time I had ever experienced in life, he became my support person. I fell in love with a man I didn't even know. Meanwhile, my relationship with Sean continued to suffer. And a little over a year after my brother died, he moved out.
Sean had always wanted to get a mototcycle, I hated them and begged him not to. A week after moving out, he bought himself one. I was angry, and scared. We went a couple weeks without really speaking, but then started we started seeing each other again. One Friday evening, he was coming over for the night. It was just a little after dinner time on a summer day. He was riding his motorcycle over. The phone rang and I answered to a paramedic calling to tell me Sean had been in an accident. She assured me he was ok, and told me they were taking him to a trauma center to be seen. She put him on the phone, and he told me he was ok. He said his knee hurt, but other than that, he was fine. I was still in a panic. I called a friend who lived across the street and asked her to please come over quickly to ride out there with me. I called my family on the way.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was informed that they were prepping him for surgery. I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening, I had just lost my brother and Sean told me he was fine, just banged his knee. We were told to go sit in this room (not a waiting room) and someone would be in to speak with us. Those were the longest minutes of my life. Finally, a doctor came in, carrying a bag of clothes, his jacket and motorcycle helmet. I thought for sure he was gone. The doctor told me that he was in very serious condition. He had injured his liver, kidney spleen. He had internal bleeding, a damaged portion of his bowel and severe burns on parts of his body from sliding across the pavement. He said it would be ok for me to walk back and see him quickly before they took him in for surgery.
I remember walking back into that cold room, seeing him lying there on that stretcher. He was pale, there was fear in his eyes and I could tell he just wanted to cry while someone held him tight and told him he would be ok. I kissed him, told him I loved him...and they wheeled him away.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Feeling lost, and trapped
It has been a bad day, a bad week, a bad month. Today, I feel like crying. I just want to throw the towel in and give up, I cannot keep living this way. The problem is, how do you move on in a situation like mine?
I have left my husband many times over the years we have been together. The first time I left, I was 8 months pregnant and had only moved into our new home a month earlier. We had a horrible arguement, it just continued on and on. It was well past midnight, but I could not take anymore...so, not knowing where I would go, I went anyway. I remember driving to work, I was supposed to work in the morning and thought maybe I could just stay there. I was restless, yet so tired. I felt like running out of my own body. I ended up leaving work and staying on my dads couch, he was out of town. I went to work the next morning, exhausted, confused and pretty damn sure I didn't want to be with this guy. Yes, he is the father of my child(ren), but does that mean I need to be in a relationship with him?
Things got ugly in the following days. I ended up moving all my things out of the house, putting them in storage and moving in with my sister and her husband. He tortured me, threatened to put my cats outside if I didn't do this or that. I finally had to go and get them and take them to my sisters making 4 cats and me crammed into a small bedroom. It was sad, and I was scared.
After a month or so, I decided to go back to him. The baby was coming soon and he said he would work on changing. My family didn't want me to go, they warned me against it, but I went anyway...I was sure things would be different. He said they would be.
They weren't. I left him again when my oldest daughter was about 6 months old. I went back to my sister's, this time with 5 cats and a baby. I was sure it was over this time, I had learned my lesson and wouldn't be going back to him. He wasn't going to change. He is a compulsive liar, he has a problem with spending way too much money and has major baggage as far as his family is concerned. This time, I went back after a few short weeks. Because, he promised, things were going to get better. We were even going to find a new therapist, because the first two were not the right match for us. (Please read with sarcasm I am writing with!)
My conditions for going back home were a joint bank account and a wedding date. We were already engaged, he proposed while I was in labor, but had no date set. So, I pushed for an end of summer wedding, meaning we had only a few months to plan everything. All the wedding business helped to take the focus off our relationship, I was so busy trying to put everything together. But, deep down inside I knew the problems were still there and that I had no business marrying this man. I wanted the wedding, I wanted the dress, I wanted the spot light, the big day. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him. And more than one person warned me of the same many, many times before the wedding day came. Everyone, including myself, knew it was all wrong. Yet, we said "I do" and became husband and wife.
Nine months later, I moved out again. The fighting was non-stop and it was affecting our child. On top of that, I found out he had been talking to his ex fiancee. I heard a message she left him on his cell phone, and when I questioned him, he claimed he knew nothing about it. I called her the next day to ask her what was going on and she claimed she was calling him because she had received some paperwork in the mail from the lawsuit he had against her for not returning his engagement ring. (He took her to court and won, so there is a judgement against her for 4,000 dollars.) She said she hadn't talked to him and didn't know he was married. She didn't want any trouble, just wanted to know why this paper showed up after so much time. Later that evening, when my husband got home from work, I looked at his phone and saw her number in both the incoming and outgoing calls. I had a fit and called her, in front of him, to find out what the hell was going on. Before I could get more than a few sentences out, he was yelling in the background about me being a psycho. He called me, his wife, a psycho while I was on the phone with his ex fiancee. I hung up, packed up my little girl and went back to my sisters.
Things were nasty. He called a thousand times a day to fight with me. He wanted to know when he could see our daughter, and I wanted him to sign temporary custody papers before letting him see her. I should mention that each time I had left, he put retainers down on several of the "top" divorce attorneys in the state. He wanted to make sure I couldn't get to them. But I am psycho. So, he agreed to sign the custody papers, giving me primary custody and him having every other weekend and one day a week. He was to pick our daughter up that Sunday to visit with her, even though it wasn't suposed to be his time.
I remember him driving away with her that morning. He told me they were going to a friend's birthday party and would be back by 6. He called me a little after 5 and told me he was running a little late, but would be back soon. He brought her back, and that was that. A few days later, I just felt that something wasn't right, so after talking to him on the phone (around 10pm) I drove over there to see what he was up to. He was down in the basement, but when I checked the phone, there were numerous calls to and from "Kara" the ex fiancee. We yelled at each other some, he made up excuses and I left. I was angry and sad at the same time. I had never gone behind his back and talked with other men. It just isn't how a marriage is supposed to be.
A few weeks after that, he talked me into going back. I know, I know...at this point, everyone must be thinking "are you kidding me?" He was so convincing, and I hated living at my sister's place. It wasn't my home, I didn't have my privacy or my stuff. I was sleeping on a couch! Home I went.
The day I went back, the phone bill came in the mail. I didn't think to open it, but should have. When he came downstairs from getting changed, he brought the open phone bill with him. I noticed a page was missing, when I questioned him, he claimed they forgot it. I begged and pleaded with him to tell me the truth. I wanted to know how often he was talking to "her." He swore he only talked to her a handful of times, he had nothing to hide. The next morning, I went to my sister's to look up our phone bill online. Our computer was broken, or I would have done it myself at home. I was sickened by what I saw. About 70 calls to her number...I was in shock. I called him and confronted him, he tried to lie at first and say it must have been a mistake the phone company made. I told him not to treat me like an idiot. Finally, he admitted to speaking with her more than he told me, but swore he wasn't talking to her anymore. He had no contact with her at all, it was done.
Two days later, a Saturday morning, he was out at a class. The mail came and his credit card statement was there. I opened it and once again, felt like someone stole my breath. Not only did my husband send her flowers, 200 dollars worth two days after I went to my sister's, but that Sunday that he picked my daughter up to take her to a friends birthday party...he really took her, my little girl, to have lunch with his ex fiancee. My world crumbled. I hurt so much, more than I ever knew I could hurt. More than Paul had ever hurt me back when I was a love struck teenager. I hurt and I cried and I hurt some more. Imaginging my little girl playing and having lunch with another women just days after me leaving was unimaginable to me. How could he do something like that?
When he got home, I confronted him about it. He sweet talked me into believing that he did it because he was afraid I was going to divorce him and ask "Kara" to help me prove he was unfit as a husband and father. I am not really sure what he meant by that, but he pounded into my mind over and over. It was just easier to believe the lies than face the hurt. My family thought I was a joke at this point, I leave and go back only to leave and go back again. I felt lost and didn't know where to turn. I just kept telling myself that whatever happened was done and over with, I was home and somehow we would make things work. I was still seeing a therapist, and would talk to her about it next time I went.
A couple days later, I found out they were still talking. What else? What more could I possibly handle? I was having severe panic attacks, couldn't eat, wasn't able to sleep, had to exercise like a maniac to try to settle my nerves a little. It was awful. I made him call her, in front on me, and tell her he wouldn't be speaking to her anymore. Of course, she didn't answer, he left her a message. Still, I was obsessed with the subject. I was always checking over my shoulder, checking his phone records, his credit card bills, calling him at work and when the receptionsist asked who I was, I said "Kara" to see what he would do. He passed my tests and despite my soul still being a wreck, we moved on. I lost a good deal of weight, and he started to have a small interest in sex again. Sex, one of our biggest issues...he denied me a sexual relationship claiming everything under the sun as an excuse.
Anyway, one of the few times we had sex during that period of time, I got pregnant. And then, I had a nervous breakdown.
To be continued...
I have left my husband many times over the years we have been together. The first time I left, I was 8 months pregnant and had only moved into our new home a month earlier. We had a horrible arguement, it just continued on and on. It was well past midnight, but I could not take anymore...so, not knowing where I would go, I went anyway. I remember driving to work, I was supposed to work in the morning and thought maybe I could just stay there. I was restless, yet so tired. I felt like running out of my own body. I ended up leaving work and staying on my dads couch, he was out of town. I went to work the next morning, exhausted, confused and pretty damn sure I didn't want to be with this guy. Yes, he is the father of my child(ren), but does that mean I need to be in a relationship with him?
Things got ugly in the following days. I ended up moving all my things out of the house, putting them in storage and moving in with my sister and her husband. He tortured me, threatened to put my cats outside if I didn't do this or that. I finally had to go and get them and take them to my sisters making 4 cats and me crammed into a small bedroom. It was sad, and I was scared.
After a month or so, I decided to go back to him. The baby was coming soon and he said he would work on changing. My family didn't want me to go, they warned me against it, but I went anyway...I was sure things would be different. He said they would be.
They weren't. I left him again when my oldest daughter was about 6 months old. I went back to my sister's, this time with 5 cats and a baby. I was sure it was over this time, I had learned my lesson and wouldn't be going back to him. He wasn't going to change. He is a compulsive liar, he has a problem with spending way too much money and has major baggage as far as his family is concerned. This time, I went back after a few short weeks. Because, he promised, things were going to get better. We were even going to find a new therapist, because the first two were not the right match for us. (Please read with sarcasm I am writing with!)
My conditions for going back home were a joint bank account and a wedding date. We were already engaged, he proposed while I was in labor, but had no date set. So, I pushed for an end of summer wedding, meaning we had only a few months to plan everything. All the wedding business helped to take the focus off our relationship, I was so busy trying to put everything together. But, deep down inside I knew the problems were still there and that I had no business marrying this man. I wanted the wedding, I wanted the dress, I wanted the spot light, the big day. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him. And more than one person warned me of the same many, many times before the wedding day came. Everyone, including myself, knew it was all wrong. Yet, we said "I do" and became husband and wife.
Nine months later, I moved out again. The fighting was non-stop and it was affecting our child. On top of that, I found out he had been talking to his ex fiancee. I heard a message she left him on his cell phone, and when I questioned him, he claimed he knew nothing about it. I called her the next day to ask her what was going on and she claimed she was calling him because she had received some paperwork in the mail from the lawsuit he had against her for not returning his engagement ring. (He took her to court and won, so there is a judgement against her for 4,000 dollars.) She said she hadn't talked to him and didn't know he was married. She didn't want any trouble, just wanted to know why this paper showed up after so much time. Later that evening, when my husband got home from work, I looked at his phone and saw her number in both the incoming and outgoing calls. I had a fit and called her, in front of him, to find out what the hell was going on. Before I could get more than a few sentences out, he was yelling in the background about me being a psycho. He called me, his wife, a psycho while I was on the phone with his ex fiancee. I hung up, packed up my little girl and went back to my sisters.
Things were nasty. He called a thousand times a day to fight with me. He wanted to know when he could see our daughter, and I wanted him to sign temporary custody papers before letting him see her. I should mention that each time I had left, he put retainers down on several of the "top" divorce attorneys in the state. He wanted to make sure I couldn't get to them. But I am psycho. So, he agreed to sign the custody papers, giving me primary custody and him having every other weekend and one day a week. He was to pick our daughter up that Sunday to visit with her, even though it wasn't suposed to be his time.
I remember him driving away with her that morning. He told me they were going to a friend's birthday party and would be back by 6. He called me a little after 5 and told me he was running a little late, but would be back soon. He brought her back, and that was that. A few days later, I just felt that something wasn't right, so after talking to him on the phone (around 10pm) I drove over there to see what he was up to. He was down in the basement, but when I checked the phone, there were numerous calls to and from "Kara" the ex fiancee. We yelled at each other some, he made up excuses and I left. I was angry and sad at the same time. I had never gone behind his back and talked with other men. It just isn't how a marriage is supposed to be.
A few weeks after that, he talked me into going back. I know, I know...at this point, everyone must be thinking "are you kidding me?" He was so convincing, and I hated living at my sister's place. It wasn't my home, I didn't have my privacy or my stuff. I was sleeping on a couch! Home I went.
The day I went back, the phone bill came in the mail. I didn't think to open it, but should have. When he came downstairs from getting changed, he brought the open phone bill with him. I noticed a page was missing, when I questioned him, he claimed they forgot it. I begged and pleaded with him to tell me the truth. I wanted to know how often he was talking to "her." He swore he only talked to her a handful of times, he had nothing to hide. The next morning, I went to my sister's to look up our phone bill online. Our computer was broken, or I would have done it myself at home. I was sickened by what I saw. About 70 calls to her number...I was in shock. I called him and confronted him, he tried to lie at first and say it must have been a mistake the phone company made. I told him not to treat me like an idiot. Finally, he admitted to speaking with her more than he told me, but swore he wasn't talking to her anymore. He had no contact with her at all, it was done.
Two days later, a Saturday morning, he was out at a class. The mail came and his credit card statement was there. I opened it and once again, felt like someone stole my breath. Not only did my husband send her flowers, 200 dollars worth two days after I went to my sister's, but that Sunday that he picked my daughter up to take her to a friends birthday party...he really took her, my little girl, to have lunch with his ex fiancee. My world crumbled. I hurt so much, more than I ever knew I could hurt. More than Paul had ever hurt me back when I was a love struck teenager. I hurt and I cried and I hurt some more. Imaginging my little girl playing and having lunch with another women just days after me leaving was unimaginable to me. How could he do something like that?
When he got home, I confronted him about it. He sweet talked me into believing that he did it because he was afraid I was going to divorce him and ask "Kara" to help me prove he was unfit as a husband and father. I am not really sure what he meant by that, but he pounded into my mind over and over. It was just easier to believe the lies than face the hurt. My family thought I was a joke at this point, I leave and go back only to leave and go back again. I felt lost and didn't know where to turn. I just kept telling myself that whatever happened was done and over with, I was home and somehow we would make things work. I was still seeing a therapist, and would talk to her about it next time I went.
A couple days later, I found out they were still talking. What else? What more could I possibly handle? I was having severe panic attacks, couldn't eat, wasn't able to sleep, had to exercise like a maniac to try to settle my nerves a little. It was awful. I made him call her, in front on me, and tell her he wouldn't be speaking to her anymore. Of course, she didn't answer, he left her a message. Still, I was obsessed with the subject. I was always checking over my shoulder, checking his phone records, his credit card bills, calling him at work and when the receptionsist asked who I was, I said "Kara" to see what he would do. He passed my tests and despite my soul still being a wreck, we moved on. I lost a good deal of weight, and he started to have a small interest in sex again. Sex, one of our biggest issues...he denied me a sexual relationship claiming everything under the sun as an excuse.
Anyway, one of the few times we had sex during that period of time, I got pregnant. And then, I had a nervous breakdown.
To be continued...
The plan...
Ok, so I ended the last post stating I had a plan to break up Ben and his new girlfriend. It took me a little searching around, but within a few days, I was able to find the guy Laurie had dated on and off for a few years! Bingo! And, he was friends with a friend of mine...the ball was rolling.
My Dad worked 12 hour shifts, sometimes day, sometimes night. My stepmother had moved out after her and my Dad seperated, so it was just me, my dad and my younger brother living at home. When my Dad worked nights, my brother and I generally had people over. I figured I would set something up to meet Sean that way. One of my friends had been talking to him and kind of hinting around to him that I was interested in meeting him, etc. I remember one night this particular friend showed up at my work all excited about how Sean was going to be at the Wawa at a certain time that night and he wanted to meet me! Oh crap, I wasn't prepared for that!
I went anyway. First of all, let me say, we used to hang out at the Wawa many nights. It was sort of a meeting point before everyone decided what to do. I am aware it may have sounded strange that we were going to be meeting for the first time at a Wawa!
So we pulled in and he wasn't there yet. We got out of the car and waiting, and about 20 minutes later, he showed up. He was wearing a sweatshirt and cut off sweatpants, made into shorts. He had just come from the gym! He was cute, now I just had to get him to think I was cute and then hopefully, my plan would work! We talked for a while, both of us a little nervous. He was definitely shy and it took some prodding to get him to open up a little. We talked a little about Ben and Laurie and how it was a small world that they were dating, and now here we were meeting for the first time. He had NO clue what I was up to!
I invited him to my house that weekend for a party, he accepted my invite. The night of the party came, he was there and we really hit it off. I felt comfortable with him and he gave me butterflies in my stomach! Uh-oh! We spent a lot of time together over the next week and a half, and then word got back to Ben and Laurie about us being together. My plan worked! They split up! I was so excited, or at least I should have been. Fact was, I didn't really care about them anymore, I was very much into Sean. So while Ben and Laurie tried their best to get us back, we stuck together and began a 4 year relationship! Who would have thought my silly little plan would have turned into a very serious relationship!?
My Dad worked 12 hour shifts, sometimes day, sometimes night. My stepmother had moved out after her and my Dad seperated, so it was just me, my dad and my younger brother living at home. When my Dad worked nights, my brother and I generally had people over. I figured I would set something up to meet Sean that way. One of my friends had been talking to him and kind of hinting around to him that I was interested in meeting him, etc. I remember one night this particular friend showed up at my work all excited about how Sean was going to be at the Wawa at a certain time that night and he wanted to meet me! Oh crap, I wasn't prepared for that!
I went anyway. First of all, let me say, we used to hang out at the Wawa many nights. It was sort of a meeting point before everyone decided what to do. I am aware it may have sounded strange that we were going to be meeting for the first time at a Wawa!
So we pulled in and he wasn't there yet. We got out of the car and waiting, and about 20 minutes later, he showed up. He was wearing a sweatshirt and cut off sweatpants, made into shorts. He had just come from the gym! He was cute, now I just had to get him to think I was cute and then hopefully, my plan would work! We talked for a while, both of us a little nervous. He was definitely shy and it took some prodding to get him to open up a little. We talked a little about Ben and Laurie and how it was a small world that they were dating, and now here we were meeting for the first time. He had NO clue what I was up to!
I invited him to my house that weekend for a party, he accepted my invite. The night of the party came, he was there and we really hit it off. I felt comfortable with him and he gave me butterflies in my stomach! Uh-oh! We spent a lot of time together over the next week and a half, and then word got back to Ben and Laurie about us being together. My plan worked! They split up! I was so excited, or at least I should have been. Fact was, I didn't really care about them anymore, I was very much into Sean. So while Ben and Laurie tried their best to get us back, we stuck together and began a 4 year relationship! Who would have thought my silly little plan would have turned into a very serious relationship!?
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