What I Don't Talk About

It seems lately that more and more are facing the nasty reality of divorce. Whether they have filed, are going to, or are just not feeling like their needs are met, it is running rampant. When I started this blog, I said I was not going to talk about the ex or go into details, but maybe it is time that I step up to the plate and talk about why I don't talk about it. I will start with a short summary of our marriage, just so you know the basics, then be prepared. This is NOT a pretty topic and it is not a story for the faint of heart.

I was 19 when we met. I was young. We started dating and I thought the world had finally handed me something precious. He cheated on me early on, but I took that as him not thinking we were serious. I remember when he first told me he loved me. We were sitting outside my room staring at the night sky. I said something stupid. I don't even remember what it was now, and he laughed and said, "I love you." He then backtracked quickly with an oh my god that slipped out statement. I knew then. I said nothing. I had been hurt so many times that I was not ready, so I let it pass. The night he said it and meant it was New Year's Eve. I remember that clearly too. Through this whole dating thing, he weathered some serious rages with me, from throwing things, crying, to screaming at the top of my lungs. Even though we were alright, I wasn't. I lost my job and my housing. Here comes prince charming to the rescue. He got an apartment and I got a new job. It was going so great. Here we had been dating for maybe 6 months and it seemed like heaven. I got pregnant.

His first response was to abort. There was no way in hell I was doing that. I think that it was a very serious tide of emotion that caused that idea to form, because it wasn't long before he got excited. He asked me to marry him. I knew. I knew then that it was because I was pregnant. He married me out of duty. I don't know if I didn't care, or if in some way, I was rationalizing it. I married him. We were married for nearly seven years before we officially announced we were going to divorce. We had two children, a home, and a mess of problems.

See, I did love him. I think that he loved me. I also think that he loved himself more. Within a year of our marriage, he cheated on me again. I saw a counselor that was an old friend that told me that I should give unconditionally and eventually he would return it. I tried that. I remember, not two weeks after, trying to be affectionate. He looked me straight in the face and said, "I'm sorry. I just don't find you attractive anymore." That stung. It hurt so much, but I was going to do what I set out to do. Eventually, I got there.

Not a year later, we lost a child. He blamed himself first, but then he blamed me. I blamed me.  Knowing the statistics, we chose to go to counseling. That is where I learned about the third time he cheated on me. He somehow felt that, in telling me, he was doing me a favor. I would love to say that I ran for the hills that day, but I did not. I stayed. But, the loss of our child was the beginning of the end for us.

He became more verbally abusive. He would invade my privacy and play head games. I would wake up some nights with him standing over me, fondling my breasts while he got his jollies off. He began to spend enormous amounts of time watching porn. He would aggressively push me against walls and grope me in front of my child. He was becoming somebody I didn't know. And then, I got pregnant again.

All of these behaviors continued, despite the high risk nature of my pregnancy. I did go into preterm again, but I drove myself to the hospital. There were nights spent in the hospital alone. Once or twice a friend would come stay with me, but he never really came up. During my emotional states, due to the fact that I was having a child so close to the lose of our little girl, he would tell me to forget about her. She's dead. It was an awful pregnancy for me. I was terrified I would lose the child and of him all at the same time. When I did go into labor at the right time, he wouldn't get out of bed. I drove myself to the hospital. He showed up just in time for his child to enter the world. I went through it all alone.

Time went on and he got worse. I kept making excuses. The some nights became every night. The sexual abuse got so bad that I developed a panic disorder. He would make me feel unwanted. I felt alone. One day, I was talking with a friend about it and she said something that struck a cord. She said that when he looks at me, he isn't seeing me. She was right. I was the cook, the maid, the sex toy, and the nanny, but I wasn't the wife. That was when I decided to leave. I didn't do it quickly. I calculated. I got a job. I started preparing. It wasn't enough.

That man took a strong willed, independent, bright young woman and turned her into a shell. I was nobody and I felt every inch of it. During our divorce, he would break into my email, my social accounts, he drained my bank account. He left me with nothing. He made sure I felt like nothing to him. He asked for custody so he didn't have to pay child support. After the announcement and before I left the house, he would grab me walking down the hall. He would make sexual remarks in my direction. He would say terrible things in front of my kids. He would walk up behind me and fondle me, like nothing had changed.

I was done. When I said I was done, I meant it. He cried. He cried a lot. He promised me the world. It wasn't enough. There wasn't anything he could have given me that would make up for what he put me through. I cried in grief, but when I finally left, I cried in joy. I lived this whole marriage without telling a soul about the extent of what happened to me. I did leave some stuff out here, but you get the gist. Only one person has ever gotten this deep of a glimpse inside our marriage, besides the courts.

To this day, his voice sends my blood pressure through the roof. He still tries to control me, no matter how far he is away. He doesn't know it, but I am mortally terrified of this man. I know it though. I have thought about seeking counseling, but have yet to find the time. Just writing this has my blood pumping and the fear and anxiety rising. And to think, I was going to stay for the children. When the grief cleared and I saw our marriage for what it was, I could not believe how stupid I had been. Did I really think I could raise my kids right under that? Did I really think that the shell that I was could raise kids at all? I really did. The truth is, as hard as it was to see it all for what it was and not the excuses I kept making it, my kids are better off because I am better off. Our children are like sponges. They don't have to hear it to feel it. If I hadn't regained myself and found a place of peace, they would have grown up knowing nothing but uncertainty and turmoil.

I am not an advocate of divorce. I actually take vows very seriously. However, I am an advocate for children, mine in particular. I cannot justify raising a child in a loveless household and marriage for their sake. All that would have taught them was that it was alright to settle. My children will not learn that lesson from me. I refuse it. Never settle for almost good enough. In a marriage or relationship, you should always feel number one, second only to any children. You should always feel wanted and beautiful. You should always feel loved. Most importantly, you should always love that person because your children can see that. They can. I will never forget my son telling me that he wished me and his dad were back together, but that life was easier and better now that we weren't. He was seven. Seven years old and he had wisdom that took me years to find.

So, there you have it. It's out now. Can't take it back. Like I said, I left out stuff. Some of you know tidbits here and there, but just throw them in with this pile of shit I called a marriage and you have a pretty good story.