WARNING/Disclaimer: I’m going to be discussing something of an adult nature. I am whipping this out as it comes to mind and I have thoughts that are raw and uncensored – I may or may not use vulgarity. Oh, and it may have tons of grammatical and spelling errors too (Oh, the horror!?!?!). This post is intended for mature audiences (i.e. ages 21+). Also, names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
I’ve mentioned before that my entire intention behind beginning a blog was to release an overwhelming amount of anger, pain, resentment and other feelings about my marriage; but, I have never really started talking about it all. The truth of the matter is that I am ashamed. I am ashamed that I missed all of the red flags, missed all of the things that told me I wasn’t comfortable in the relationship in the first place. Of course, I recognize that I play a major part in the demise of our marriage – and I have never admitted it here before, but I have on previous blogs – and I will admit to it here within these series of posts, but I want to do it later.
Today, I am frustrated.
Frustrated is an understatement, just in case you didn’t pick up on that…
No, today, had me wondering when it was that I first realized that this wasn’t a good relationship. It didn’t make me waver getting into it three days after meeting. That should have been an obvious tell-tell sign that I wasn’t going into the relationship with any semblance of maturity. I knew, early on, that her jealousy would ruin us. Or rather, my inability to accept her jealousy would ruin us (Although, I want to bitch about everything, I do recognize that there are things I could have done differently…or would it have even mattered? I don’t even know at this point); I felt early on that I had to toe the line or feel her wrath. She seemed to have a horrible impression of men, and after hearing how our son’s father had treated her and refused to accept his own child, I accepted her hurt and pain and thought she would eventually outgrow that. My problem, is that I was arrogant enough to think that I would be her hero to all of the pain she felt. She also had horrible things to say about other people that had wronged her – especially her own family members. But again, there was egotistical me thinking I was the answer to all of her problems. I didn’t think her getting evicted from a place she rented was a problem, because she was a single mom just trying to get through life, but I thought I would be her hero inviting her to live with me. I didn’t figure it out when she would quit job after job, because she didn’t like a boss or someone she worked with or whatever (she’s had over 30 different jobs, since we met – 6 just in the last year). Truthfully, that isn’t the worst of it. And, what I’m about to mention next, isn’t even the worst of it. But, what I mention next, should have been the biggest red flag of them all…
I can’t remember the first time she became violent towards me. I’m sure I had prompted it with some smart-ass comment I said as a retort to something she was angry about – I had a sarcastic tongue that would sting, there’s no doubt about that. I’m not sure if it was because she saw me talking to some woman (who, I assure you, I would have had no interest in at the time, because I was a cop and probably dealing with something required of me), or some other reason that evades me now. But hit me she assuredly did – on many occasions throughout our marriage.
As last night occurred (she punched me repeatedly on the side of my head), I tried to remember when it first occurred. I tried to remember the one time I should have taken that as an answer to get the fuck out. I never did. I never got out. I was a fucking pussy – a fact she reminds me of on a regular basis. I couldn’t stand up for myself back then and any time I’ve tried to stand up for myself, the violent toxicity would come out physically, and after a while, it remained emotional and verbal.
Ugh….emotions are hitting me as I write this, because I can remember the many therapy sessions I have had that I couldn’t fully explain it all, because I always found myself defending what she has said and done to me. And I haven’t even gotten into the constant and never ending accusations of cheating. Something I had not done when the toxicity in our marriage/relationship began. According to therapists, I had PTSD – and not even from my time as a cop – from my marriage.
I’m finding, at this moment as I write this, that I can’t find the words or memories to actually detail the problems. I find myself, wanting to explain that she’s not fully to blame – because it pissed her off that I would take the problems of our marriage to my parents or therapists for advice. And here I am, telling all of you…strangers on the internet, because it terrifies me to face these in real life. It makes me question myself, my manhood, my ability to have been a good parent to my kids, if I was any good at being a husband, and certainly my sexuality. It’s embarrassing, because as a cop I had given advice to women who were victims of domestic violence to get out and I couldn’t get out. It was embarrassing briefly sitting on a board of directors for a women’s shelter that helped victims of domestic violence, and I quit because I was embarrassed of going through it myself. The emotions as I, yet again, admit it to myself that this relationship is not healthy for either of us…something we should have realized 25 fucking years ago.
I can’t excuse myself from the violence. But, I promise she has never been struck by me. No, my “violence” occurred when she would be in the promise of pummeling me and I would grab her and hold her arms into her body. Or there was a time when she was throwing things at me, and I rushed her and pinned her arms against a wall. Or, because I was so frustrated that I couldn’t hit her back, that I would put my fist through a wall… No, I’m not innocent of childish behavior and I guarantee it added to the chaos. Chaos that was not healthy for either of us, let alone our children – who, thankfully, are all adults now.
These are some major fucking red flags and as I approach 50 years old and can’t possibly see enjoying life as this relationship continues, I know I need to get out, I know this isn’t good. This story isn’t finished being told. It’s ugly. Fucking so ugly, but I can’t do it all in one sitting. Today, I need to relax and calm myself. There are answers, and some of them I have tried, some of them seemed to work, some of them didn’t. My current situations has calmed.
It’s calm, but I have to figure out how to do it…
…financially and peacefully, I have to figure out hoe to get out.