So the “story” part 1 (it’s really long, sorry)

I got married when I was 19.  Stupid mistake #1 brought on by a mix of hormones and religion.  I knew I’d made a mistake within a month (sooner, really) when he was sick in the hospital and I was praying he would die.  He didn’t die, and I stuck it out for a couple of years.  He was a medical student who wouldn’t study.  When he didn’t pass the Medical Board test after 2 years of Med school it was MY fault. Because I hadn’t made enough flash cards.  But really? If he’d been studying instead playing Diablo 2 the night before he might have passed.  And really? Attending class might have helped him a great deal also. *** (he is now a DR in AZ, I think. Email me and I’ll tell you his name so you can never ever go to him)***

He was verbally and emotionally and sexually abusive. He never hurt me physically- never hit, kicked or punched me.  He could have me crying in 2 minutes at the end.  Nothing I ever did was right.  And he was a “good LDS man”.  We’d married in the temple and I did my best.  He didn’t want children with me, because I wasn’t pretty enough and I was fat.

The final straw?  There were three.

My finding out he was registered on a dating site. He claimed it was for his friend Rick, who was single.  But the numbers and facts were his.  And he managed to turn it around  so that I was saying sorry. Because I wasn’t good enough.  And if I were better he wouldn’t have to be looking. He never physically cheated- because no one else was crazy enough to want him.

A two hour counseling session in which he talked about my fat. I am not fat.  I wasn’t fat then.  I’d just worked a 14 hour day- hard physical labor on my feet all day.  And then the session with the counselor.  We were driving home at 11:30, he wanted to stop at Blockbuster who was having a PVV sale.  I said “no”. Because I was tired.  In every sense of the word.  Then he wanted to “talk” about how I’d just ruined his night, and was ruining our marriage etc.  But I went inside and went to bed, instead.

A 52:14 second phone call in which he said nothing but mean blaming things about how crappy and awful I was.  I will never forget hanging up the phone and seeing how long that conversation lasted.  I called him back and told him I was done.

I was living in Washington State at this point, working in an adult family home in Puyallup.  My boss’s husband was our marriage counselor.  I told him the next morning that I was done and he said “Thank God!

I moved in with my boss’s family for a couple of months.  They were wonderful.  When I’d gotten married I’d left high school, with the intention of finishing in SC, but there was never time. Something always came up and it was never MY turn.  They encouraged me to get my GED, which I did.  They were wonderful people.

The man was a nightmare.  In June he left to live in Las Vegas with his best friend and study for the Medical board he hadn’t passed the year before.  I moved home to Idaho in July.  I was exhausted, beaten down and miserable.  I was 22 and getting a divorced.   And then he contested the divorce.  I’d had to drive 8 hours to attend the hearing to find out he’d contested it.  He said I had a diamond given to him.  I didn’t.  And he sure as hell never gave me a diamond.  I canceled all the paperwork in Washington and drove home crying.  I was separated but not free.  He was still there.

Church was not a safe place for me- The bishop in Washington told me “If he didn’t hit you it wasn’t abuse”.  The women who had once been friends looked at me like I was a piece of dirt.  Church became a place to feel worse about myself.  The bishop and stake president wouldn’t renew my temple recommend, because of things he’d said to his bishop and my married but separated status.  You throw in the fact that I’d just learned my sister was a lesbian and the whole Mormon upbringing didn’t exactly prepare me for how to deal with that and you have a perfect storm. I stopped going to church. (More because of my sister than the other stuff)

I started working as a CNA in a nursing home.  And everyone there was… nice…  And made me feel like I wasn’t alone.  Most of them had been divorced.  I was just Normal there.  Normal felt good.  And good was something I wasn’t used to.  And I was *cute* and *young* and *thin* and all the men were paying attention to me. ???? Three years of being told how undesirable I was had left me VERY vulnerable.  So one of them asked me out. – The one, being of course, Jeff. Of course, I was still “legally” married, but I could go out as friends, right?  So I said yes.

Stupid stupid… he couldn’t drive, having lost his license for not having insurance and wrecking his car into a power line and then driving away. (yes. he was drunk)  He didn’t get a DUI- because he was sober when they found him.  Told the judge he’d fallen asleep.  LIED.  BUT he was ALL BETTER.  He’d spent 31 days in jail and man, he didn’t want to do that again.  So I DROVE everywhere.  I paid for everything.  He used me and I was happy to let him.  Because I was emotionally unhealthy.

We didn’t stay “just friends” of course and before long we decided that a bunch of stupid paperwork didn’t matter.  We met in October and by January I was pregnant- by choice.  I eventually did get a divorce, in April. Two days after the divorce I felt Emma move for the first time.

And Jeff? Was really nice to me at that point.  I mean… he did kind of not have any work at that point so I was paying all the bills… and he did look at an awful lot of porn when I was gone- but I taught him how to clear the browser so at least I could pretend he wasn’t doing it.  But he “loved” me, right? He didn’t make me cry all the time… It was June when he admitted to me he was smoking pot.  But it was only ‘occasionally’ and he’d never bring it home.

We got married in July and things got bad.  Withing 3 days of the ‘wedding’ he was going out to bars every night.  He had his little stash of pot. He was driving drunk.  I was enormously pregnant, and scared silly.  He’d take my car and just disappear for hours.  He wouldn’t pick me up from work.  I walked the 2 miles home from work in 105° more times than I care to mention  when I was 7 months pregnant in August.  My coworkers got really sick of seeing it and started giving me rides.  His friend Mike came home with him one night and was so drunk he pee’d on my floor.  My sister Brekke got married and Jeff didn’t go to the wedding.

But Jeff never missed a prenatal appointment, so that was good, right?  And he finally got a job at the State School and Hospital! (I still don’t know, to this day, where his money went. )

I’ll admit at this time I wanted out.  But I was scared and really pregnant.   Emma came and was beautiful and perfect and everything a child should be.  And every night, when Jeff got home, he’d go out and get stoned.  And before bed.  And several times during the weekend.

When she was a couple of weeks old Jeff left his shift and coworker 10 minutes early with out permission.  And got fired.  I’d had a hard labor followed by an almost emergency c-section.  I was in no shape to go back to work.  So he did- to his credit- find another job.  Doing home health. With a kid whom I attended high school with.  (He’d been an all star baseball player with a bright future when the car he was driving rolled on the freeway.  No seat belt. Head injury. 6+ months in a coma. His mom never gave up and he DID wake up. But he required 24/7 care)

Anyway…All this time I pretended like things were good, that he loved me… but it was all bullshit.  He wouldn’t do things with me, wouldn’t kiss me… I was SO alone. And we continued for a year and a half.  Jeff drinking and smoking pot with increasing frequency- we moved to Nampa, I worked part time in the evenings, Jeff during the day.  It got to where Jeff would smoke pot first thing, go to work, come home in the middle of the day, smoke pot, go back to work for the rest of the day, smoke pot, eat dinner,smoke pot, watch TV, smoke pot…. you get the picture.

He hated paying for daycare- so the 2 hours that lapsed when we were both working the family of his client said he could bring Emma.   He’d bring C and Emma back to our house in Nampa  and let them nap there…While he’d have a beer (get high) and watch TV.  It would also turn out, later on, that he would run to the store or the gym for an hour (while they were sleeping).

He was smoking pot 5,6,7 times a day, during the week.  Weekends it was more.  He was numb all the time. I stopped sleeping in the same bed.  He didn’t say anything. I stopped talking to him.  He didn’t talk to me.  I found out he’d been leaving Emma alone and Left him.  The last 6 months are chronicled fairly well in my back entries- if you discount the fact that I was lying through my teeth in most of those.  I really emphasized the good moments and didn’t talk about the bad.

SO anyway… I moved out in March, the same time I started working full time for Martha-where I met Brian   Although I didn’t fall in love with him (that I knew anyway) right away.  I dated some other people who either didn’t treat me very well, or tried but didn’t have a clue how to…

I’d been quite the bitch when I left Jeff- and didn’t let him see Emma alone.  I didn’t trust him.  So Round about Middle of June he came crawling back… He was sober and clean (so he said) and was sorry and didn’t realize how good he’d had it etc etc etc… you name it.  And I gave him a shot, but didn’t move back in with him or anything like that.  I was also on antidepressants at the time and extremely numb. Someone asked me if it was a good thing if I had to be numb to be with him. ( it may even have been Brian)  So I went off the Lexapro and found out that I WAS ANGRY!  And I didn’t like him.  And he’d hurt me and I was empty and I was DONE.   He took it very well and promised he’d keep up being clean and sober… etc.  So he started having Emma every other weekend.  He was pulling straight A’s in class, seemed to be doing very well….

Meanwhile, Brian was at work with me everyday.  He was really nice.  He was fun. He was smart. He LOVED to read. He was ADORABLE! We’d talk about books and politics and everything… And it occurred to me that I might like him more than just a little… But what 24 year old single guy wants a woman who’s 2 years older, been divorced twice and has a 2 year old? So I put all thoughts of Brian as anything but a friend completely out of my mind….

To be continued….