I don’t think I’ve mentioned my second husband on here. I don’t even know where to start on that one.
We were good friends in high school and reconnected through MySpace (geez was that popular only 6-7 yrs ago?) with the occasional hi, how are ya. Then I moved on to bigger and then less teenage, Facebook. It was a year or so later that he found me again and we began to catch up.
It was also around the time that my first marriage was on life support and everyday we got closer to pulling the plug. He became a confidante and a shoulder to lean on. You see where this is going right?
After hubby #1 moved out, I found myself in a financial crunch and a couple of months later my friend’s lease was up and we had the great idea he would move in with me and my boys to help out while he looked for a better place.
Long story short, he never left. We were engaged within a year and married soon after. There had been so many warning signs to get out earlier on, but I was blind. I was so determined to prove that I was a good wife that it ended up costing me a night in jail and nearly losing the love of my oldest son.
After both of those events, I played my part, bided my time and counted down the month til I could file for divorce with our tax return.
That night/fight is what I termed the crazy. I never thought I would be arrested for defending myself but there it was. A couple weeks later I went and got this:
A physical reminder that I’m stronger than I think and I’ll be damned if some man wins my sanity.
That December he finally snapped, showing his friends, my friends and family, everyone the hell that I had secretly been going through. It was the Friday before Christmas, he stole our rent money and my car and took off to New Mexico.
I changed the locks, called every police agency I could think of for help and finally broke down and told everyone about the abuse I had suffered, showing the scars that had been left behind.
Unfortunately my children had been mentally abused but with counseling for all us, we’ve put most of it behind us and I have learned to be so much more careful. Hell, I’ve been on one date in five years.
Besides my immediate family, only a handful of people knew about the arrest. I have no idea what is processing (I know this is the wrong word, but I can not think of the right one for the life of me) me to write about it today.
Maybe someone in a similar situation will see it and it will help. Maybe people will read it and think I am beyond bonkers. I don’t know. Lately I just don’t care what people think about me. And not sure if that is a good or bad thing.
Guess time will tell.