When I first met my husband, I thought the heavens opened and the birds sang just to see him happy. He was smooth and charming and he told me everything I wanted to hear about love. Our relationship has been the biggest journey of my life aside from becoming a mother, and if you will just bare with me, I need to say my piece about it.
We met at a church pool party for young single adults. We were interested in each other, but I thought he was dating someone else at the time, so I tried not to pay him any attention. Eventually, he asked me to join him for one of his weekly "guys night out" at Buffalo Wild Wings. I said yes and that is when our relationship started. He swept me off my feet and I wanted to be loved. But looking back I wasnt ready...I'm still not.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
So we dated for about two months until we got into our first major argument. I remember getting mad at him for something and childishly storming out into the parking lot of his apartment and sitting down, refusing to get up and go back inside. He came out and yelled at me to stop being so immature, that I was being childish and that I needed to come inside and stop making such a big scene. I knew he was right. I was being childish, I can readily admit to that. But something, call it my stubborn teenager mind, made me refuse. After pulling at me and trying to drag me by force back into the building, he realized that wasnt going to work. So he knelt down quietly in front of me and told me that I needed to knock it off and come inside. He said he loved me but I was being immature at the moment and he didnt know what else to do. I eventually calmed down and went inside. When he asked me later why I had acted so crazy, I told him that I have moments of depression and anxiety attacks. That's all this was, he doesnt have to worry, I just might not act rationally some times. I dont know if that was a lie or not. My first "anxiety attack" was my senior year of high school during a play. But I'm not even sure if that was a real problem, or just a silly girl getting attention for throwing a fit.
Anyway, we continued dating and got engaged. I thought everything was roses and the world could not have gotten any better. Then one day in spring, only a few months after we had gotten engaged, we had another argument. This one was bigger and I was so mad at him I took off my engagement ring and stormed out of his apartment. He followed me down the street yelling at me to come back. I ran as fast as I could to get away from him, and he chased me until I couldnt run any more. I turned into the wooded trails down the road from his apartment and he followed me into them. The whole time yelling my name. Under the cover of the trees he grabbed my arm trying to get me to stop walking. Luckily a family was hiking from the other direction and saw us before anything else happened. I pulled out of his grasp and started walking again. When we got to the park at the other end of the trails I had tired out and was ready to be done with the whole situation. If I had decided that the best way to "be done with the whole situation" was to leave him, I wouldnt have the life that I have today. But instead he told me I was being immature again and that he loved me but needed me to stop acting like a child. And I believed him. And I went back to his apartment with him.
Then we got married. I was so excited and happy the hour ride with my parents to the temple and then as soon as I saw the temple I thought I was going to throw up. Then we forgot our marriage license back at a friend's house and had to wait. At the temple the workers told us that if something doesnt go wrong it isnt really meant to be. I believed them.
A week after we got back from our honeymoon, we got into our first argument as a married couple. He "ended" the argument and left the room. I was still fuming and didnt feel like he had even listened to me. I charged down the stairs to our bedroom and started yelling at him again. He grabbed me and I fought against him. I had pulled one arm away from him and was going toward the bathroom to close the door between us. I got the door partially closed when he pushed the door open and it slammed into the wall, almost leaving a whole. He threw me against the wall and told me to never close him out of a room ever again. I huddled in the corner of the bed and when he sat down to talk to me in a calm voice, and shrank away from him. The next thing I remember is laying on the bed with him over me asking me if I was okay and to please wake up. I had blacked out and I dont remember if anything else happened. But when I woke up I did remember how he had thrown me against the wall. I was so afraid of making him angry by bringing it up that I pretended to only remember coming down the stairs to argue with him. I asked if I had tripped down the stairs and all he said was that I remembered what happened. When I repeated that I didnt know what had happened, he just said okay. We still havent spoken about it, and that was over two years ago.
Throughout our marriage we would get into arguments, as all married people do, and sometimes he would react gently to me, and other times he would grab me by the shoulders and shake me, push me into corners, walls, closets. I understood that part of the problem was me. I would nag him. Over and over I would complain about one of his habits or relaxation activities. I complained and cried over having to share my house with his brother. I was not a perfect, submissive, obedient wife. And sometimes when he would grab me I would fight back. I left scratches on him because I was trying to get away, and he never even left a bruise. The one time I got a fat lip from him it was a 100% accident and I could never dream of lying about it in order to make him look worse.
At this point I need to explain that the next portion of my story is graphic and if you dont want to read it, please skip ahead.
As a little bit of an explanation, when I got pregnant, he was not excited. He blamed me and even went so far as to say, "how dare you do this to me." Now, being pregnant is hard. And having an intimate relationship with my husband hurt. I still tried to make it work, but after the first trimester, I just didnt want to hurt anymore than being pregnant was already making me hurt. So I started telling him no when he asked me if I wanted to do anything intimate that night. But he didnt listen to me. I would cry and tell him how much it was hurting me and he would tell me to just keep going. That it would get better if I would just relax. I would push against him and try to turn away from him, but he is stronger and larger than me, and my protests didnt do anything. So eventually I just started to lay there until he was done. Then I would get up, clean myself off, and go back do doing whatever I had been doing that was interrupted by him. He barely even noticed my lack of enthusiasm and when he did, it wasnt because he realized that he was raping me. It was because I wasnt doing it enough. I wasnt excited enough. There was something wrong with me. I needed to try harder to love him. And love him more often. That would fix everything from his point of view.
After giving birth there is the customary 6 week wait to do anything intimate and I begged him to let me wait. I had just been torn in two by a baby's head and I didnt want anything in there for a long time. But he ignored me and did it anyway. This has continued up until May 2014 when I decided to try harder and when I decided that no matter how much it hurt, I wanted to try to make it work for my husband. There were still times when he continued without my consent, but at least it wasnt every time anymore.
Okay, if you skipped that part, I'll try to not be graphic from here on out.
On June 28th, I left my husband. We were eating mangoes and I was taking more and more from the fork he was offering me and Jackson. He got upset and yelled at me to back off he followed me across the room and cornered me. Yelling at me that people dont like to be cornered. Didnt he know I knew that from personal experience? Because I had access to my dad's car, I took the urge I had often felt, and started packing up to leave. He told me I needed to stay and work things out with him but I told him I was just going to go back to my parents house to finish house sitting for them and that I would see him again the next day at church. I made it all the way to the car, had Jackson in his car seat and myself in the drivers seat when he came charging out of the apartment building. I quickly put the car into reverse and tried to get away. He stood in front of the car and told me to put the car back into the @#$% parking space. I begged him to let me go. I had all of the doors locked and was terrified he would hurt us. He punched the driver's side window because I wasnt obeying him and I punched the gas. I called my dad and explained what had happened and he told me to head to the house and mom to call me. My husband called my phone and I answered. I wanted him to know that I was going to come back, I just needed time to calm down and relax. He told me I needed to turn around immediately or there would be serious consequences. When I asked him what those consequences were, he told me he would come out to my parent's house, take Jackson away from me and divorce me. I was terrified. I hung up on him as soon as my mom called me and eventually I found out I could go to my sister's house for protection. From there, I ignored every phone call and every text. My brother-in-law, who is a lawyer, suggested that I could get a protective order if I wanted one. We went that route and then a few weeks later, the judge dismissed it. Since then, I have started the divorce process and we are scheduled for mediation soon.
This journey in my life has a purpose, and is all taking me to where Heavenly Father wants me to be. But I never want to be in a position of fear ever again. I will come out of this stronger than I've been, and I will grow into a more mature and loving person. I dont want to be beaten down into a shell of a person. I am getting out of my marriage after only two years. Some people will see that as giving up. But I will always see it as one of the hardest, but most beneficial decisions of my life. Take it or leave it, this is my life.
