I awake to the sound of my alarm. It’s 8AM and the sun shining through my bedroom windows on this beautiful summer day. I slowly open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly calm. Somehow, I got a decent nights’ sleep, all the while knowing that today I will go court at 9:30AM to finalize my divorce from my (ex) husband.
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After everything that I had gone through up until this point, the shock of it all began to subside and denial crept in. I was in denial about what was happening, and somehow thought we still had a shot even though he moved out and we officially filed divorce paperwork. Although a divorce day was set, after a few months of distance and couples counseling, we decided to try to give it a final try. He continued to struggle with being the man he wanted to be, the man he told me he was, versus who he really was and his expectations of me. We began to “date” again. Unfortunately, it was all half-assed on his part and it felt like we were both were just going through the motions. We were both unhappy and it was palpable.
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As I rewrote many of these posts about the emotional abuse I was subject to, I judged myself pretty harshly. I felt like I sound pathetic, like a loser. I wondered that if I thought it, that you may have thought it, too. As a result, I felt it was important to shine some further light on my situation and the topic of emotional abuse.
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At this point in time, we were about three years into our marriage and a little over a year from when we would actually divorce. We would travel often, using vacations and traveling as a way to avoid dealing with our issues. When we were away from everyone, I was isolated and he had more control over me. In the same way, I felt more at ease because when he was in control, he was calmer. And when he was calmer, I had less anxiety. Each part fed off of each other; it was a vicious cycle we were spinning in.
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“All of the clarity I thought I gained yesterday became clouded. In that moment, I again became submissive and he regained all of the control.”
Picking up where the last post left off, I woke up that morning in my friend’s guest bedroom. The rays of the sun shined through the windows lighting up the entire room. I could still smell the bonfire on my hair and clothes from the night before.
“What the fuck is wrong with you! She’s a fucking dike!” he said about my good friend, the friend whose phone I was using, the friend who is married to one of his very good friends who have three kids together. He then suggested that I must want to fool around with her if I was going to sleep over…
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“Then, I hear my tiny 104-pound younger sister say “Don’t you fucking put your hands on me.” I stopped in the middle of peeing, stood up with my underwear around my ankles, and as I walked out the bathroom door, he passed me shouting at me “I’m not dealing with this shit, fuck you for choosing her over me, you bitch” and slammed the hotel room door in my face.”
My sister is one of my best friends. During the time my (ex) husband and I were dating, the two of them became close. She was in our wedding, helped us tremendously through the planning process, and was very supportive of us as a couple. For her birthday, the three of us went on a trip to Mallorca, Spain.
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My ex-husband was and is ruled by anger. And in time, and through therapy, I learned that anger is a reaction to a feeling. That means that he could have been feeling frustrated, hurt, scared, disappointed, etc. and instead of acknowledging that feeling, he would react in a fit of anger. It is also very important to him that he always be right (stemming from his low self-esteem). And when I challenged his thinking, he would get angry and we would usually get into a fight. Now let me be clear, it’s not like we were debating philosophical ideals, politics, or religion where we could seemingly get into a heated debate. Our arguments would be over what actor starred in a certain movie, or what time a doctor’s appointment was the next morning, or something just as stupid. Trivial nonsense.
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