Before October of 2005, I was a wife who pretty much forgave my husband for anything. I knew about all of his problems, and loved him anyway. When he would relapse, i would stand by him because he got help. In August of 2005, we both felt our marriage going down hill, but we sat and talked, something we hadn't done in a while, well since his mother died the October before. We vowed to each other to give our marriage one more try, and if that was it, then it was it.
October 15th 2005. We celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary and our twin sons' 6th birthday the day before. We were together for eight years before we got married, so it was 13 years of a lot of crap and a lot of fun, and companionship. That was something I had missed, and still do. Not the person, but the companionship of being in something together.
October 21. I looked like this.
On October 22, he snapped, and I don't remember much of what happened. I was in shock, and after I woke up, I drove myself to the hospital. I couldn't even speak, so I gave them my driver's license so they knew who I was.
When I could speak, I was stuttering, but I lied to them. I said I fell down the stairs. I lied in a way that they knew I was lying.
I had to figure out what to do, and how to be safe, for me and for my kids.
When I got home, he acted like he was sorry. He didn't say it and I didn't want him to.
I kept going over in my mind that i had come up with a plan, where he wouldn't come after us. I thought I was OK. I had the job, earned the money. He already blew through his entire inheritance.
November 1 2005. I realized he was taking drugs. I came home and I knew he was high. After he "came down" I told him to get help. I showed him the yellow pages of lists of places to get help. I said this time, he had to choose, drugs or his family.
November 2, 2005. I came home after only being able to pay one bill, instead of four, because he depleted our bank account. He pulled out my entire paycheck that was deposited and supposed to pay our mortgage. It turned out he hadn't been paying the mortgage in months.
I fed my kids, sent them outside to play, and started making their lunches for school the next day.
November 3, in the hospital. this is what I looked like.
November 5th I looked like this, in the hospital.
And November 11th, the after I got out of the hospital, I looked like this.
And now, 16 years later, all my bruises are inside, pain, scar tissue, unrepairable damage to my body, mind and soul.
But I'm alive, and he's not. He died 9 months after he was released from prison.
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