In hindsight there are so many instances that left me feeling empty, alone, scared, distraught, frustrated, broken, and just downright defeated. These instances accumulated as the days passed by and with every fight and argument that happened, the rug that we kept sweeping crap under no longer covered the resentment and anger. Day in and day out, the tension built up, and the slightest disagreement was a war that turned into complete silence for days. I continued to bury myself in work and tried my hardest to hold my head up and keep myself together. I posted pictures on social media that demonstrated a life that I not only wasn't living, but the people in the pictures I no longer knew; they looked like complete strangers to me. But as much as I felt like my life was falling apart...and it WAS falling apart I painted the pretty picture everyone often does.
As the
fights became more frequent I started confiding in people, especially my
parents, because I didn't know what else to do. The therapy wasn't working...AT
ALL, which was so frustrating because I knew that was our last hope we had of
turning this mess around. Deep down I knew while I could improve things on my
part, unless he admitted to being the abusive person he was, our marriage was
never going to survive no matter how hard I tried and no matter how much I
wanted it.
May
5th - it was a good day, well, and good in the sense that we hadn't fought in
the last 24 hours (sad, huh?). We got in the car and headed to a friends house
for a birthday celebration. Everything seemed ok for awhile and I noticed a
shift in his mood. He sat by the fire on his phone hardly engaging with anyone
after awhile and I made the decision to head home at that point. Deep down I
had that gut feeling that a fight was on the horizon so part of me was anxious
to leave the "safe zone" of the party with my friends surrounding me
but the other part of me thought maybe this time would be different and I was
just being paranoid. As I said my good-byes I noticed he was nowhere to be
found and I waited out front of the house trying to figure out where he had
gone. I called him and he told me he was in the car, I asked him to pull around
the front of the house and he told me no that I could walk to the car myself
(at that moment I knew where this was going). I got in the car and didn't say a
word; I figured it was probably best at this point to just diffuse the
situation by not engaging.....WRONG.
I took
my phone out as we pulled away and started flipping through my social media. He
started yelling at me for being on my cell phone and not engaging with him. I
tried to take deep breaths and not engage....but his complaints about me being
on my cell phone turned into his usual put downs and name-calling. He proceeded
to tell me that I was anti-social and a square and I was boring him to death;
he told me that I'm not capable of talking to my own husband and that I'm
supposed to entertain him. He went back to complaining about me being on my
phone. At that point I stated that he was on the phone at the party, what was
the difference? I really should have just kept my mouth shut because that only
made him more upset. He then turned the radio up to the loudest volume it could
go. Mind you he had been drinking and it was midnight at this point and the
last thing either of us needed was an accident or a cop pulling him over. I
reached over and turned the radio down because I didn't want it to be a
distraction, plus it was so loud it was hurting my ears and head for that
matter. He turned it all the way back up telling me "Don't touch my
fucking stuff!" I said, "You've been drinking and having the radio
that loud is just an accident waiting to happen or a red flag for a cop"
and I reached over and turned it down again. It was then that he grabbed my
forearm.
I
remember fearing for my life at that moment; not only did he have my arm locked
very tightly in his grip and wasn't letting go, he was FUMING angry, had been
drinking and was driving. I tried to pull my arm free and told him repeatedly
to let me go, that we were going to get into an accident and he just ignored
me. He yelled at me as he pulled off the freeway and told me to get the fuck
out of his car, that I could find another way home. There was so much going
through my head, I was scared, I was pissed, I was confused.....I didn't know
what to do because I didn't know what he would do if I reacted any which way. I
told him I was not going to get out of the car in the middle of Santa Ana at
midnight. He told me he would drop me off at the hospital and I could find a
way home from there. At that point I threatened to call the police if he
dropped me off and that I would report him drunk driving. You better bet at
that moment he got right back on that freeway and drove us home. We didn't
speak the rest of the evening, I tossed his pillow out of the bedroom and
closed and locked the door. I laid there shaking, crying realizing this is NOT
the life that I wanted nor deserved and it was time for me to make a decision.
I
packed a bag and hid it in my closet and dozed off to sleep eventually. I woke
up the next morning wondering if what happened was real or if I had dreamt it.
I somewhat expected him to be humbled and realize what he had done was so
wrong. I thought for sure he would apologize out of fear, or something, but
instead he walked up to me, told me he was going to his dads and walked out the
door. After he left, I grabbed Oscar, my packed bag and I left. I went to my
parents house, told them what happened and decided at that moment through
swollen, blurry eyes that my marriage was over and I was going to be filing for
divorce.
It had
been a thought prior to this day but it was merely a thought that I kept
pushing out of my head as I thought about my vows......but today was the day
that I would admit out loud to not only myself, but my parents, that it was
over and my entire body flooded with emotion as my dad squeezed me in his chest
and the tears just rolled uncontrollably down my face. There was no going back
now....................
