Warning: This post deals with domestic violence and rape. The content may be disturbing to some readers.
I separated from my husband in 2011 and got divorced in 2012. There have been and still are so many problems that it feels like I’m still in 2011 and I have to remind myself it’s over and time to move on.
But I can’t stop looking back and analysing my ex-husband and the life we shared over and over again. It’s like watching home videos and seeing the natural progression to the end.
My husband proposed by asking me, “Would you like to go on an adventure?”
My married life was nothing short of an adventure, so he kept his word. Everyone thought my life was perfect – and I was taught by my husband perception is everything. My husband throughout our marriage thought he was a knight in shining armor to women – and I ended up repeatedly apologising for his infidelity. I know it sounds crazy, but I apologised for making him do it every single time because it was my fault.
Here's the moment I knew I had to not just leave but RUN: It was a long weekend and we were working on being the happy, perfect family.
A couple of months prior we had a typical elephant in the room problem. It was the same problem, just another day/year. The difference this time was that I had been sleeping on the couch since February. I refused to sweep it under the carpet, forget about it or better yet acknowledge the problem was MY fault and I brought it on myself.
My husband handed me a drink Friday night and that was it. The next morning I woke up naked on our bathroom floor sick. My head was pounding, the room was spinning and I could barely move. I closed my eyes and thinking even hurt.
My husband was up and getting ready for a busy Saturday. He came in the bathroom to brush his teeth and noticed I was awake. He told me I was amazing last night and thanked me for exonerating him. Yes that is right EXONERATING. Exonerating is a big, long word that hurt to even say.
I had to remember that word because I never heard it before and I had to look it up. My head was pounding and I kept saying it over and over again. Fast forward to today, four years later, and I wish I could forget the word.
My husband told our three kids I had the flu and not to bother me. My son covered me with a bath towel and they ran off to start their day. When the phone rang everyone was told I had the flu, and that they should call back in a couple of days.