Strike While the Iron is Hot

There is so much for me to write about but it takes a lot of concentration to keep everything in some kind of organized timeline due to the fact that I’m sort of living two different lives, the main one being the abusive marriage and the other being the hopeful romantic with my Ex.  I apologize if it’s hard to keep track but if you’ve been following from the beginning it should make some sort of sense.  At least I hope it does.  It just seems that I could not write solely about one without mentioning the other.  The stories overlap, intertwine, co-exist…you get the point.

In continuing about my 2008 reunion with my Ex…everything was going smoothly.  I could say we found our groove, our niche with each other so to speak, but we never really lost that.  Anytime we reconnected we just picked up where we left off.  Finishing each other’s sentences, knowing exactly what the other was talking about even if we only said one word, and even when we were able to spend time together our breathing pattern was exactly the same.  How bizarre is that?  I remember the first time we noticed…he thought maybe I was breathing the same way on purpose. I was like…this is how I breathe.  Just that little thing, our chests rising and falling in the same exact rhythm, was soothing.  We were exactly where we were supposed to be at that moment in time.

As the weeks and months passed, I helped him with little things.  Getting back on track paying bills, making sure he was eating properly, just normal things that needed to be done and kept on top of.  He slacked off on caring for himself because of so many failed relationships, he felt no one else out there cared so why should he.  With each little nuance of my help he started to feel positive again, like he was worth my love.  He’s a funny sort of guy.  Even though we both knew we belonged to each other he was very adamant on me not leaving for him.  He did not want to be responsible for “breaking up a family”.  I tried to explain how he had nothing to do with it breaking up, whenever that time came.  My husband was the sole reason for my life and the marriage being shit.  He was the monster.  Not us.  And if we (my Ex and I) decided that we were going to have a safe and happy future my only reason for leaving would be for me and the kids.  Us getting back together would be secondary to that.  I needed to do what was right for me.  For a moment, I decided maybe this was the time for me to get out and not follow through with my original plan to stay until the kids turned 18.  I started to contemplate if this could be done and how it could be done – quickly, quietly and safely.

Several months passed and the holidays were coming around.  My husband always gets into a funk around this time of year.  So he was on edge even more than usual.  Aside from that he had bumped into an old acquaintance who I had a brief fling with BEFORE I even met my husband.  That’s number one.  Key word – before.  On top of that…I found out the guy was a complete whore and basically had ever girl from school in his apartment at different times so now I felt betrayed, humiliated and disgusted.  So as quick as it began it ended.  I never spoke to him again.  Never wanted to see his face.  Was overall in hate with the guy.  However, for some strange reason THIS GUY is the one my husband couldn’t stop throwing in my face our entire marriage.  He never once mentioned my Ex because he never really saw him as a threat.  My husband saw it as he swooped in and stole me away from my Ex and that was that – end of story.  Anyhow, my husband bumps into this above mentioned whore and the guy says how he “sees” me on Facebook.  That’s all my husband needed to hear.  He flew home and we pretty much had a week long war.  He swore the guy said he “spoke” to me, etc.  As usual, my husband doesn’t believe a word I say and says because I am crying so much at the accusation that I must be guilty.  How is that even logical??  I am crying because you are accusing me of something I did not do and you are threatening me…and yes, there was some hitting involved.

After a few days of trying to explain how much I hate the guy and trying to explain the intricacies of Facebook and how we can have mutual friends and he can “see” comments I’ve made, etc. it doesn’t necessarily mean we have “spoken”.  Ugh. Just thinking back to that week gives me an instant headache.  The point of writing about this whole situation is because after everything settled we sat down and spoke.  By we, I mean he spoke to me.  By spoke, I mean the usual…I love you.  I want to grow old together.  I know I’m an asshole but you never give me a chance.  And so on and so forth.  At the end of it, I almost passed out.  I can barely remember how the words even came together from that conversation but he asked me … “What is it that you want…do you want a divorce?”  My brain is thinking…this is most definitely a trap.  If I say yes he is going to flip out on me and who knows how that will end.  If I say no he is going to think I’m happy in the marriage and want the same things he wants.  Either way, I’m screwed.  I remember how my stomach felt sick and my head was spinning.  What the hell should I say?  I could NOT let this chance pass me up.  This was the first time in all these years he asked that.  In a semi-relaxed mood too. Oh man…I’m gonna say it.  Here it goes.

Yes.  I want a divorce.

Holy shit.  Within a split second my body was across the room with my back against the front door and his fists were flying.  Geez.  No one even knows this.  I never told anyone this story.  I can’t believe I’m even saying it now.  After the early years of high voltage abuse and now somewhere in the middle with minimal and scattered physical abuse but non stop verbal abuse…here we go…back on the roller coaster.  And stick to what you know…the usual M.O.  Fists to my head.  This time my face was not off limits.  I kept my hands up and covered my face best I could.  For that reason I still have some discoloration on my hands.  When the weather gets cold and I clench my hands into a fist you can see discoloration from the bruises I had on my hands from being hit so hard and so many times in all of about 15 minutes.  It quickly went downhill from there.  He started destroying things in the house.  Playing the woe is me card and tearing his clothes to shreds because he wouldn’t need any of them anymore. Blah blah blah.  Then he pulled out a new threat … murder suicide.

Well, it’s not really brand new.  In his past high rage moments he always kind of threatened, “I’ll kill us all”.  He said he wanted to be read about in the newspapers and he wanted to be remembered by people in the neighborhood.  This time though it took on different stages.  From if he can’t have me no one will – to he’ll kill my kids one at a time in front of me, and then himself.  This way I always have to live with “my” decision and he won’t go to jail.  What a freaking psychotic lunatic.  The best part of all of this…he had no idea why I wanted a divorce.  He claimed he didn’t know he was treating me wrong since that’s what he saw growing up and he knew my parents argued so he claimed it’s all we both knew.  Please.  Is he kidding me?  He’s pulling the victim card?  How can you be 40+ years old, apologize for being an asshole and not know that berating your wife was not the normal thing to do?  Alas…no divorce.  He vowed to try harder and change his ways, which he never did because…I didn’t change first.  Shocker!

A couple of months after this happened, my Ex and I slowed things down.  It was obvious I would not be getting out any time soon and he was not comfortable with all the secretive stuff.  He was right.  I wanted the same but it was not going to happen just yet.  Thankfully, since reuniting in 2008 after a long eight year hiatus, we have kept in constant contact.  We went from daily to every few days to every other week.  Texting a little more than talking at times.  But always touched base.  We were not going to let any more huge chunks of time pass without speaking to each other happen again.  Some weeks were better than others with multiple texts and calls, always knowing what we both wanted but leaving that on the back burner for the time being.  Before you know it….five more years pass and it’s now 2013.  Is there an inevitable reunion in the air? Hey, you never know.

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9 thoughts on “Strike While the Iron is Hot

  1. The more I read your blog the more brave I can see you are. I can not believe you had the courage to actually tell him that you wanted a divorce. I cringe when you tell your stories and want to just swoop over to you and rescue you 🙂
    I am glad to see you have a positive outlook and as always my prayers and good wishes are with you and the kids.

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    • I’ll never forget that day. It was like having an out of body experience. I was in shock that he put that question on the table and I was so scared to answer yes. Even though he prompted the conversation even if nothing came of it I know that by me saying yes that day a seed was planted in his head and he’ll never forget it either.

      Thanks for keeping up with me. As always, I appreciate your kind words.

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  2. Wow… That is a lot to have been through. The moment where you said you were suddenly across the room… So horrible. I’m glad it is not like this at the current moment and I am glad you have reached a point where you’re writing about it– I know that writing about something is always my first step in making a necessary change.

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    • Most definitely. I’ve always been a writer at heart. I’ll probably post some of my poetry in the future. Thankfully, there is not all of the (physical) drama on the day to day anymore. It’s all about the LOOK AT ME attention he seeks. Always blah blah blah about something or other and we’re all at the point of STFU already!! Lol. So looking forward to the silence.

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      • I’ll bet you are… ugh, you just can’t come back from all of that and act like things are normal + become super needy. Even if it’s not still happening in the day to day, stuff like that never goes away.

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      • Yep. That’s something they just don’t get. He can argue for hours and then once he’s done it’s like – back to normal. Then sees me in a mood and asks…what’s wrong? Really? How about you’re breathing my air!! I call it living on the bipolar express. Waiting for my stop so I can get off. 🙂

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      • Haha that reminds me of a guy I dated only briefly (like two months, seriously) but he would fight and be crazy and then switch it off and be all lighthearted like “what’s wrong, babe?” Meanwhile I’m trying to stop myself from ramming my head through the drywall. Ugh, they are certainly a “type.”

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