So forever ago my therapist told me to start writing a journal.. And seeing that I'm a child who grew up in the age of computers, bbs's, the all new and exciting "world wide web", etc.. The process of actually handwriting stuff baffles me and I choose to avoid it at all possible turns.
The point of all of that is that I figure since no one reads this anyway I will use it as a chance to vent some personal stuff. If you don't care.. don't fucking read it.
I will start with my ex-husband.
When I was stupid and 17 I got engaged to my highschool sweetheart. I talked him into joining the AirForce so that we would have the opportunity to move away to start our life, and because he was barely a high school grad with no real opportunities for supporting a wife and starting a life. He left for basic training a year before we were getting married. I spoke to him very little in that time, of course, since he was in training.
We saw eachother for a week in November before we were married to go to a weekend Catholic pre-marriage weekend thing. In that weekend he tried numerous times to get me to give in to doing "not so catholic approved" things when my female roomate wasn't around. They had us rooming with same-sex members of other couples who were there for the weekend as well. I didn't really think anything of it at the time.. but looking back now it was the beginning of what was to come.
He came back a week before the wedding and immediately I realized he was a completely different person than he had been before. I remember vividly a fight in the parking lot of the hotel that one of his groomsman was staying at about 3 days before the wedding.. It was the first time he ever called me a "stupid cunt" or a "bitch." I also remember very stongly the honeymoon. We fought the whole time.. and not normal couples kind of fighting.. knock down-drag out locked out of the hotel room fighting. I think I cried most of the week in Bermuda. It was the worst honeymoon ever.
We came home from the honeymoon and packed up our U-haul truck to drive out to Little Rock AFB, AR. When we left my mom took it really hard and actually almost didn't say good-bye. I remember her getting really upset and screaming and yelling at me about how I don't love her and I was leaving her to hurt her. After much drama she finally came and hugged us goodbye and we headed out. That night sometime around Nashville my dad called and asked how much longer we were planning on driving. I told him we were going to try to make it to about Memphis. Barely 30 minutes down the road my mom called screaming and cussing at me that I needed to pull over, find a hotel, and call her RIGHT NOW. So we did.. He was a total fucking asshole about it. I listened to him screaming at me the whole way to the hotel about how "fucked up" my mother was "in the head" and how I "better not end up like her." That's the most memorable thing I have from the trip. My mom was having a really hard time with me leaving and rather than trying to understand or calm me down (I was pretty hysterically crying) he chose to demean my family and threaten me with divorce if "that shit ever happens" to me.
After settling into the new house he got put working swing shifts. In the real world that means 3-11. I found a job as a bank teller at a local bank but we were barely making ends meet. I ended up quitting that job after some major issues with the shifts they were working me and the never ending girl-drama that accompanied working with 15 women who all thought they were somehow better than everyone else. I remember telling him I wanted to get a job as a waitress so that we'd have cash coming in daily, and because I remembered a girl coming in daily with up to $100-$200 in cash from her shifts the day before. This was a big point of contingency with him. He stated on many occasions that "all waitresses are fucking whores" and that I was going to end up "flirting like a whore with every customer I could get my hands on" just to make money. After I'd been unemployed for a few weeks I finally just went out and got the job as a waitress without his consent.
Funny how he didn't want me to do it until I started bringing home the cash. Within a month of me working for the restaraunt he quickly began to immediately confiscate every dollar I brought home. I used to have to beg him for enough money to go to the grocery store on my day off. After I had been there a few months I decided I really wanted to start going to the local community college. Again.. big problem for him. He adamently refused to allow me to go to school because it was "his job" to be the educated one. I wasn't allowed. I went against his orders and signed up for a full-time schedule of classes that semester anyway. I used our bank account and when he found out I honestly thought he was going to hurt me.
Over the next year there was more financial stuff.. he continued to take every dollar I made, refused to let me buy new clothes even though I had lost ALOT of weight and everything I owned was falling off of me, bought beer, soda, and playboys but never groceries. I was working double shifts and bringing home $100 a day on the weekdays and up to $200 on weekends.. yet somehow I never really saw any of it except what I spent on school and books (which I only went for 2 semesters) He however.. spend 500 bucks on a shitty old rusted out '79 trans am and within that year put 5grand into it of my money. Needless to say our financial situation wasn't good. He racked up credit card bills, owed his parents a huge chunk of money, and yet he blew every penny I brought home on that fucking car.
The entire time we were married our house was beyond dirty. It was disgusting. He never did anything around the house to help me, It was my job.. my duty as his wife. I was working double shifts AND going to school so I was barely ever home to do alot around the house. I would spend my days off doing dishes that he hadn't touched and because of my schedule I hadn't been able to get to. The kitchen always ALWAYS had moldy, rotten, disgusting dishes piled in the sink and laying all around it.. even left with food on the stove or counters. I will never ever be able to eat hamburger helper again because the smell of rotten, moldy hamburger helper in the sink will always and forever make me nauseated to my stomach to the point of wanting to throw up. My parents came to visit once and I will never forget how horribly embarrased I was at my house.
During the entire marriage there was this overruling theme of "it's your job as the wife" and that carried into my sex life. This is the hardest thing for me to talk about but I will try to explain.. since this situation has rolled over into my entire adult life and has caused me alot of hurt and bad choices. He was very forceful with me sexually. I remember way too many nights laying in the bed begging him to please stop already, please can we be done.. he would go for hours.. to the point I would be dry, bleeding, crying, in pain.. the list goes on. I still don't know how he could honestly go at it like that for sometimes up to 2 hours without ever finishing his business but I remember him telling me many times if I would just "be better" or "stop fucking crying.. act like you like it" he would be able to get off. He forced me on many occasions to give him oral as a punishment for losing arguments over stupid shit. I remember us jokingly arguing about whether my paycheck from work was 16 bux or 30. He was right in the end and when we got home he yanked the check out, waved it in my face to show me he was right, sat down on the couch pulled out his dick and told me to "suck it bitch. you lost." To this day I can't bring myself to do that. He bought a polaroid at one time and took pictures of me in some ridiculously skanky outfit. He made me pose for the pictures going down on him, and he took pictures while he had his way with me that night. To this day I don't know what happened to them. I pray that he was decent enough to dispose of them but I never really saw them again after that night.
In our marriage I would have to say that over 50% of our sex life was on his terms, when I didn't want it, and very hurtful to me emotionally. In my life now I find it almost impossible to be the person in my relationships to initiate any kind of sex and I find myself feeling guilty or ashamed of myself if it gets playful.
He never phsically hit me until late summer early fall of 2000. We were driving home from a night out to dinner where he drank entirely too much and I was behind the wheel. I went to turn into a parking lot and he screamed at me about my driving (this was a normal thing) and I slammed on my brakes in an empty parking lot to yell back. He backhanded me across my jaw so hard I could hardly eat the next day. When we were pulling up to the gate on base he told me I better not say a fucking word to the guard... I didn't. When I got home I immediately went to my closet and started throwing clothes into a suitcase. He began sobbing and crying uncontrollably and somehow managed to make me come out of that feeling like it was all my fault. This was normal.. he did it alot. It was my fault that he had to scream and call me a bitch and a cunt and a whore.. it was my fault that the house was always disgusting.. it was my fault that sex was so bad that he had to make me bleed just to get off... it was always my fault.
The next day he grabbed my left wrist during an argument and twisted it around until I was on my knees in a submissive postion crying, begging him to stop. He shoved me backwards with my twisted wrist and slammed me hard into a heavy wooden door. I remember I had to work that night, and as a waitress I used my left hand to hold my trays. I had to beg a coworker to go buy me a wrist brace so that I could work.
That night my manager pulled me aside and asked me if my husband had done it to me. He was a 28 year old married man who I quickly turned to as a friend. He and I started to have a flirtacious relationship and I ended up having an affair with him. My husband found out by reading my emails (another thing he did.. emails, phone logs, text messages, followed me sometimes to and from work to make sure I was going) and he called me at work to tell me how he had always known I was a whore. He also called my parents (MY PARENTS!) and told them I was a fucking whore and that I was cheating on him.
To this day I feel horrible about the fact that I had an affair, it's not the kind of person I am.. but I feel that honestly.. it was the best thing that could have happened to me. He was so disgusted with knowing what I had done that I was finally able to leave. I spent a month living at a coworkers apartment and had a rebound fling with her neighbor but I finally came home. My dad flew in, helped pack up my stuff, and drove home to virginia with me. I will never forget that trip with my dad. I had two cats in one cage, two ferrets in another, and a Beta fish named PunkAss in a cup in the truck cabs cupholder. It was probably the most uninterrupted time I've ever really spent with him and I'm glad he came.
After moving home I filed for a separation but in Virginia they require a 6 month separation before divorce can be filed. I paid 300 bux to some guy to write up the papers and sent them out to the husband. I got a phone call a few days later stating that he had filed for divorce there in Arkansas and because he was there we wouldn't have to wait. I flew in to sign the papers because I had wanted to go back to visit friends anyway. Papers got signed, flew home, and got a phone call from some girl randomly one night. She was apparently his new girlfriend and they were pregnant. She had been under the false impression that we were already divorced and wanted to know why we were calling back and forth to eachother still (it was about the paper signing.. that was it) I have never felt so duped in my whole life. I left him my Cougar, he kept his shitty as trans am, I got a 10 ft truck of furniture, and half of all of his debts. Had I known that he had a child on the way I wouldn't have agreed to screwing myself so badly... oh well.. it's all done now.
To my knowledge he's still married to this girl and they have several kids of their own in addition to the three she already had. I found his page on myspace one night and I still to this day want to write the meanest letter ever..... He's apparently a "servant of God.." and a total religious freak now. His #1 friend was Jesus.. he had bible quotes everywhere and blog posts about religion and God speaking to him through this and that.. I can't tell you how angry it makes me to think that this man who did so many horrible things to me is somehow in good with God? God may be able to forgive him.. but I never will. I was young, and he ruined me.
So theres part 1. If I can muster the strength to work on it again tomorrow I will start with part 2. :)
If you read this far.. holy crap. If you didn't.. it's ok. I did this for me.. not you.
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