Sept. 1995 - April 1997

Everything happened so fast at the end!

My dad passed away in August 1995 and you would have thought that I would have wanted to be close to my husband, but I didn't even want to be comforted by him. His hands on me just really made my skin crawl. I guess that's because of all the sick things he was making me do "because you are my wife." I know now that in a truly healthy relationship, those things are not forced on you. When he fell and hurt his back, in one way it was a blessing, but it also ended up making matters worse. Which I guess was a good thing, because it helped me along - but I'm getting ahead of myself here.

He couldn't work, so he was home ALL THE TIME. Once he got up and around, he followed me everywhere--to school, to work, he would even go with me to the grocery store and the library. He said since he had the chance, he wanted to get to know my life. Of course, I knew even then he was just trying to see if he could "catch me" doing something. Not that I was doing anything to catch, but he was trying!

The little time I had with my friends completely disappeared. He would even go with me to my study groups, saying he wanted to learn what I was learning. But when we'd leave, he'd say "I saw you looking at that guy" (or the guy was looking at me). Of course, I had no interest in a 20-year old living with his parents, but try to tell HIM that!

If I thought the drinking was bad, it became unbearable when he added his prescription pain-killers to the mix. Up to that point, I was able to hide the arguing from my kids and keep them from hearing his hateful remarks. But the drugs and alcohol combination made it harder-and-harder to prevent them from direct exposure. It got to where I was calling the police at least once a week, just to get a moment's peace.

The first time I had him arrested, they put him in a cell with a phone, and he called me EVERY TWO MINUTES, ALL NIGHT. Like a dummy, I answered the phone, accepting the collect call. He'd say, "you'd BETTER come get me, right now." I'd tell him, "no, you are gonna stay right where you are." Then, I'd hang up and he'd call right back. That continued all night long.

In the morning, like a dummy, I went and picked him up from jail. All the way home he harassed me, in front of the kids, about did I enjoy my night with my boyfriend, and when did we plan on getting together again, so he could be better dressed for his night in jail. This was in front of our children. I could feel myself hating him more-and-more, but not knowing what to do.

This was around November. The semester before, in about April, I had read a book for a research paper that ended up showing me the way to get out from under him. The Verbally Abusive Relationship by Patricia Evans literally changed my life. I had been playing with some of the techniques she describes in the book, but not really seriously.

At this point, due to his continuing drinking and now painkillers, he was completely out of hand, worse than I had ever seen him before. He was accusing me of seeing several men, accusing me of trying to turn our kids away from him, and accusing me of even trying to make him "hurt more" by taking away his pain medication. He was out of control. So I started really turning up the heat, using the techniques Ms.Evans recommends and it was making him nuts. If he accused me of something, I wouldn't DENY it, as I used to. I'd say "I do not have to listen to this." If he tried to change the subject from my question (diverting), I'd force him back to the issue. (Go to the page "Turn the Tables" to see how to do it.)

Believe me, these things WORK!! Sadly, it became almost a game for me, to see how crazy I could make him. I got to where I was playing HIS headgames, accusing HIM of seeing another woman, that he was hiding money from me, etc., just to see him squirm. This went on for a couple of months. Then, one night, I decided I had had ENOUGH. It was Feb. 28, 1996.

This was the turning point, the moment of truth. He had gone out, "driving around" again, and came home about 11:30 (the time is important). I was pretending to be asleep again, but he came in and yanked off the blankets. I pulled them back onto the bed. He threw them out the back door. By the time I gave up on having a blanket, five were in the backyard.

He was being so loud, he woke up my youngest daughter. She came and climbed up onto our bed and I figured he'd leave her blanket alone. Oh no, out the back door went that one. I put her back into her room and bed. As I was doing so, he came into the kids' room and started swearing at me, calling me names. I ignored him, continued comforting the kids (all three, were awake by now). He kept yelling at me, cussing, then he found the straw that broke the camel's back.

He called me the one name that did it. He called me a C***. I hope you can figure it out, because I refuse to even spell it out completely! I slapped him, right in front of my babies. It was almost a reflex action, without thought, to SHUT HIM UP! I ran into the living room, thinking, "OH GOD he's gonna hit me now!" But he didn't. He just came into the living room and started yelling again, that I'd hit him for no reason.

When I realized he wasn't going to hit me, I decided it was safe to call the police. Before I could dial the number, he jerked the phone out of the wall and stomped on it. Then, he went into the bedroom and got that one and killed it, too. So I decided to go down to the payphone at the corner and thought I'd better change out of my nightgown first. I pulled my gown over my head and was reaching for my jeans and t-shirt. He came into the bedroom, and said, "if you're going somewhere, then you're going just like that."

He then picked me up (bad back was all numb from alcohol & painkillers) and tried to put me out the front door, stark naked. I went limp and he dropped me. I got dressed, and had to leave in his car, because he had mine blocked in. I called the police, and they met me at the payphone, then followed me back to the house. They put him in handcuffs, so we could get some clothes together. His mother (still living with us) left with me and the kids. It was 1:45 a.m. when we headed for my brother's house. So the whole thing took about 2-hours. That's important.

All this was due to the mixture of alcohol and drugs. When I did get brave enough to try to talk to him, he only remembered about TEN MINUTES of all of the above! He didn't know why the phones were in pieces, or the blankets in the backyard. He did remember me slapping him, but not the reason why.

I still tried to make it work. We never moved back in, but I would go stay the night, hoping things would change if we just talked it over. But every time I'd think we were getting somewhere, it would go right back to awful again. He blamed the whole thing on me, saying if I would just give up my friends and school and just be his wife again, it would all be okay. We went back and forth like that for months. I finally realized that THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO TO MAKE IT WORK!!!! He was NOT going to change. He didn't want to. HE DIDN'T WANT TO.

I came to see that it wasn't my fault. I was not doing anything wrong by having friends, and enjoying school, and spending time at the library. That is perfectly normal behavior. It was HIS behavior that was messed up. HE was the one who needed help. And since he didn't want to get help, for us and for our marriage, I left and stayed away for good. It was the BEST decision I made for me and my kids.

He made it really hard on us, though. The year we were separated was rough. He made sure of that. He would call and harass me. If I wasn't home, he would leave long threatening messages on the answering machine. I kept the tapes for a long time, hoping to use them to have him committed. He would drive by our house at all hours, to see if I had my "boyfriend" there (of course, I didn't want anything to do with a man at that point!). He would come up to my second job at Wal-mart and just follow me around the store. He would call there, saying he was going to commit suicide if I didn't come back to him (at one point I asked him if he needed help doing it and he stopped using that threat).

He would call my day job at the elementary school and say he was coming up there if I didn't come to the phone. Finally, when I told him he was going to get me fired and then how would I feed the kids, he quit calling there. He would just come walking into my house like it was "ours," until I told him he had to knock like the rest of the world. Then, he wouldn't come over at all (to see the kids) saying he wasn't welcome. Oh yes, he made it very hard on us.

BUT! We were away from him, for the most part. And it was a wonderful feeling. I could go places without feeling guilty. I could have friends over and actually hold conversations. It was great. My money went to my kids, not his drinking. I was actually able to save a little each payday. Not much, but more than I ever had before!

In January 1997, I filed for divorce with my income tax refund check. It took almost all of it, but it was worth it. The divorce was final April 2, 1997 and I haven't seen him since. He has chosen not to see his kids or pay his child support. I do not say bad things about him to the kids because if, in the future, they decide to look for him, I want them to be able to say that any conclusions they draw about him are their own.

Now the good news - and it gets it's own chapter!!

top | onto Chapter 7 | Chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

home | my story | abusive behaviors | turning the tables | do you say...
share your story | books | family-friends | email me | send page to friend