Monday, April 28, 2014
Capter Three: Devastation, Part XV: January 2010
Please begin reading my divorce memoir from the beginning.
January 29, 2010
I think I’m coming slowly to the realization that my marriage will never work out. All that I’m reading about abuse is very dissuading. Verbal abuse is hard to overcome, both for the abuser and the “partner” (me).
Verbal abusers act one way in public and another at home.
Verbal abusers are charming.
Others think we have a perfect marriage. I’ve made sure of that, too, so I am partly to blame.
Verbal abusers don’t remember abusing. How convenient.
Verbal abusers start acting nice to win you back. Once they have you, they abuse again. That’s the story of my life.
I can’t believe he actually consulted a lawyer in December. I guess I called that. He didn’t think about me at all—or his kids. He actually had this affair while our kids were visiting for Christmas. He was so ready to go when she said she loved him. My heart is still breaking over that.
The only reason Jerry wants me to stay is for economic purposes. I have to agree, economy is the only reason I’m hesitating to leave. I like my standard of living. What will it be like if I go? He’ll be a cutthroat and take all our money. I can’t let that happen. I have to live, too.
I don’t want to end up an old lady living alone, with people pitying me. I told him, as my husband, he’s supposed to take care of me. He said he would. He said a lot of things lately.
I don’t want my kids to be damaged because of this. Matt still has a mission to go on. Will he go if we divorce? I don’t know. Maybe Matt is independent enough to realize nothing is his fault and he will go on with life as is.
He lives close to Jake and Kate now; all out west. He is close to Kelsie and Patrick, too, though not in geography. Maybe he has enough love from his siblings to allow me to leave and not resent me.
Perhaps, if I leave . . .
. . . my life will be better.
. . . I will be happy and not depressed all the time.
. . . I will be creative again and not feel bad about it or that I’m wasting my time.
. . . my health will improve because I won’t have the battering making me sick.
. . . I will be stronger emotionally and have more self-esteem.
. . . I will be able to feel loved again someday.
. . . nothing bad will happen.
Still, when I think about being alone, and having to work for the rest of my life at jobs I don’t like, I get that stress release feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Maybe I won’t get that feeling in the pit of my stomach if I’m not around Jerry. Maybe it will take time to feel better and I’ll be strong enough to change my life.
I need to get away. I don’t know what to do. Should I go to Florida to visit my mom? Should I go out west and visit my kids—and my friends out there that know about my life? They don’t know about my current strife, but they know about what I’ve lived with thus far.
I feel so isolated not being able to talk about this—except to the counselor and the bishop. I don’t feel like either of them really know or grasp what has been going on for the last thirty-two years.
I keep replaying everything in my mind, trying to make some sense of it. If I found the phone on Jan. 9, and there were over a dozen texts that were lovey dovey, how could that change so fast so that, by Sunday, he was accusing her of being a psycho?
I mean, Jan. 8 he was in love with her; Jan. 9 I found the phone; Jan. 10 he told me it was all over?
Since he has this history of abuse, and manipulation, I wonder if I’m being manipulated yet again. And for what? Money? He doesn’t want to have to give me his precious money?
I hate money! I wish I could just leave and not have to worry about it.
Maybe I’m as sick as he is.
No, not a chance. He’s a sicko.
I pray all the time, with a prayer in my heart all day long, that I will know what to do and make the right decision.
I know my Father loves me. He led me to that phone on that Saturday almost three weeks ago now. It was a sign. I can’t believe Angela at work gave me that affirmation card and the penny and the picture of Christ holding on to someone who helped pierce his hands and feet. I get it. He died for me. He died for everyone. That was another sign from Heavenly Father.
But are they signs to get help to save the marriage, or to get out of the marriage?
Do I have to be hit over the head? He’s having an affair! He doesn’t love me anymore and never did—and certainly doesn’t care about his family—our family. This proves it. What am I waiting for? Have courage! Be strong and end this now! Get out while you can!
Please, Lord, please help me. Help me face reality once and for all. Help me be strong. Please, Lord . . .