Journal #5

It started out small; I asked him a question. I wanted to know if he was meeting up with another girl on his trip to Texas next week. He had told me that he wanted to visit with my sister and brother-in-law. I questioned why he’d want to see them, as he never liked them, and hadn’t been quiet about that fact in the past.

He told me he just missed them. He said he wanted to take a trip and visit people he knew. He said he wanted to give me some space. I knew better in my heart. It just didn’t add up.

A week later, I texted my sister in San Antonio. I asked her if there was more going on. All of the texts remained read and unanswered. I took that as a yes. Finally, she called and told me what I had known all along.

So, I asked him a question.

I begged for his honesty. Shit, it was the least he could do. He had lied our entire marriage. That question turned into hours of him belittling every single part of me. It turned into him making excuses for his behavior because I had made him do it. It became a sick game of blaming me for our daughter’s accident and telling me that I’m not a good enough mother because I sometimes take time for myself (I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to hike with a group of friends one day a week). That disgusting question took every part of me that I had been vulnerable about already and turned it into a bomb. I felt like I would explode in the most literal way.

In a panic I texted my sister again.

“I’m not okay at all,” I begged, sobbing uncontrollably against the chaise in my bedroom. It was a room that once gave me peace and security. Now I just saw an array of memories that made my body cringe.

“What else had he lied about? Did he ever really love me if this is how he views me? Why wasn’t I ever good enough for him? Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy anyway. Maybe he’s right. Yeah, I am pretty worthless. I need to run away. I don’t care what happens to me, I need to get out of here, now. If he doesn’t love me, no one does. I don’t deserve love anyway. My children deserve better than me as their mother…”

On and on and on my thoughts raced, spiraling quickly and intensely. I gripped my hair in anguish; not the physical kind, but the kind in your own head- I believe that’s so much worse. Everything was swirling around, and I couldn’t make sense of anything. I wanted to die, I wanted to be saved. I didn’t want to be a bother. I needed someone now.

My sister called her fiancé. He called me and heard the panic in my voice. I knew I wasn’t making sense, but I just kept speaking anyway. He told me to immediately wake my friend who was asleep in the next room. I hadn’t wanted to be a bother, and I certainly didn’t want someone angry at me for waking them. I wasn’t sure I was worth the trouble anyway.

Still, I did as I was told. I went into his room and fell onto him crying, pleading for help. When it seemed he had fallen back to sleep, I got up and left, certain that there really was no one there to help me anymore. Luckily, he followed me.

With the help of my family and one very patient friend, I lived that night. My daughters woke up to a mommy. I woke up feeling embarrassed and beaten to my core, but alive, nonetheless.

#mb