I’m sitting here, madder than a badger in a burlap sack, and it occurs to me that I should probably give a little background on why I decided to start this blog.  I keep looking at other blogs and realize I am WAY outta my depth here.  But I’m not doing this on a professional level.  I’m doing this on a HEALING level.  So here’s some of my story.

I met my now estranged husband on-line.  He messaged me first on yahoo.  I wasn’t looking for anything-I already had a boyfriend or two, and damn was he pushy and incessant.  I didn’t like that about him.  Maybe that should have been a red flag.  Anyway, we talked back and forth, then he just melted into cyber-space.  6 months later we started talking again and this time I did the pursuing.  I invite him over, and we were pretty much inseparable since then.  10 years…ten VERY long, hard, sometimes happy, mostly sad years.

I have a son from a previous relationship whose bio-donor isn’t involved-I don’t even think he knows about him, in all honesty.  So, DB “stepped up” and became my son’s “dad”, for intents and purposes.  It was hard, but I welcomed and appreciated him trying to be the father figure my son needed.  DB’s dad was a very hard man on his kids, so that’s all DB knew how to be.  I love my father in law very much, don’t get me wrong at all.  He’s been a great man to me and the kids, even more so through this turmoil.  I tried to tell DB this isn’t good for my son.  He is different from other little boys.  It didn’t matter to DB, he did as he thought what was needed to make my son behave.  That was red flag number two.  But I loved this man, and I thought, maybe this is how a relationship is supposed to be.  We move in together and I was doing the devoted girlfriend act.  Clean house, taking care of my son, and trying to go to school.  When we got our first place, the utilities were put in my name because DB couldn’t take time off of work to get things set up.  I was trying to get into work-study through school, but it all feel through right at Christmas break.  So when the bills came due, I had to borrow from my family to pay them.  DB didn’t pay anything towards them because he said, “They’re in your name.”  We started fighting and he said that I had 30 days to get a job or he was leaving.  Devastation right there.  So I got a job not even four days later, but that meant I had to put school on hold.  Red flag number three.  We ended up moving to a better place-I thought.  It was a little more each month, but we weren’t responsible for appliance issues or mowing, and there was more living space, and a swimming pool.  It was rough.  Utilities in my name, paying for child care, gas, and paying a truck loan that wasn’t in my name-that was in his ex-wife, his and his mom’s names.  Red flag number…what?  Four??  He wanted everything to be split down the middle, 50/50.  It was like having a room-mate that I fucked basically.

A couple of years later I get pregnant with our daughter, and my pregnancy was nothing but emotional and mental abuse. I found out right before Christmas, and I gave him the stick as his gift.  I told him that I didn’t want him to think that he had to marry me because I was pregnant-that was the trick the ex-wife used to get him to marry her.  She never was pregnant.  He said, “Good, cuz I’m not.”  That was a shocker to me.  I was never good enough for anything.  I wasn’t a good mom, I wouldn’t be any better to this child.  I can’t take care of myself.  I have to rely on my family to get us food and help pay the bills.  There were worse things said, but I blocked a lot of it out.  I remember one day I was about 8 months pregnant, and he has said some really hurtful things to me.  I crawled up into the bed and I literally cried for HOURS.  Is this how a relationship is really supposed to be?  Red flag number-I’ve lost count.  He hardly ever came to my doctor appointments when I was pregnant.  “He couldn’t take the time off of work because he was the only source of income.”

When it’s time for my daughter to be born, you would have thought work was more important.  The birth of my daughter was supposed to be filled with joy and happiness…mine was filled with despair.  I remember having her, and falling off the edge into the dark abyss of postpartum depression.  I struggled almost 3 months alone with it.  There are two weeks of my life I can not, for the love of my children, remember.  I can tell you I wore the same clothes and didn’t shower, that I sat on the couch cross-legged and stared at the floor.  When I finally reached out for help, I was the worst person in the world because I dragged DB away from work.  After being diagnosed with the postpartum depression, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder 1.  One exacerbated the other.  It’s not been easy on anybody to deal with the mental illness, and it’s even more difficult when you don’t educate yourself on the mental illness that your “loved one” is going through.  I think that’s the most devastating part-not the emotional or mental or psychological abuse, but the fact the man that I loved and adored didn’t want to learn how to understand this new me.

These are the first three years of our relationship.  There were happy times in there too, I just can’t seem to remember them through all the pain.  He never, ever, physically touched me, and those words have cut deep and scarred me.  It gets worse from here…

*DB-Douchebag

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