If this resonates with anyone - do what you HAVE to do, for YOU. I started to write this as a realization for myself. (But, that was BEFORE the argument earlier this month, a couple of days before my birthday! I'll tell more about that in a moment):
I expected ...
A husband who respected and protected me. Provided for me. Cherished and loved me.
A friend who wanted to spend time with me and who enjoyed my company.
A partner that would, without thinking, always put my needs above the needs of other's.
A caring lover who was faithful and wanted only me. No other's. No Lover's.
I thought that's what marriage was.
I imagined ...
Roads we'd travel, journey's we'd share, the lifetime together we'd enjoy - All hand-in-hand.
A home full of laughter and love. The spontaneous silly you! The dances. The songs.
(Your oh so quick wit. I used to LOVE you making me laugh).
I imagined reciprocation: respect, love, support, caring, sharing.
I never imagined they'd not be reciprocated or that you'd be kinder to a complete stranger.
I thought ...
You'd always have respect & true appreciation for my honesty, faithfulness, integrity.
My kindness, selflessness, intelligence and many skills that make me special.
Yes, I thought you'd show gratitude - on occasion.
No, I never thought I'd be the door mat under your feet.
I hoped ...
That the twinkle in your eyes for me, would never diminish and you'd always be kind.
That you would always want to make me happy and would never enjoy making me cry.
That you'd never do anything to physically harm me and would hurt anyone who did.
That you would be honest with me and about me, always. I was wrong.
My reality ...
On any given day I might get your anger or your cold shoulder.
Your intensity or your scarcity. Your silence or your loudness.
Your spiteful & hateful tongue. Your name calling & contempt.
Your disrespect and bullying. Your narcissistic one-way-street.
On a bad day; Despicably. Verbally, emotionally, physically.
(And you say that I've changed - that I'm not the woman that you married anymore?!)
My future - alone ...
For a while - but I'll not be lonely. Alone - I will find solace and healing.
The weight I've gained (because I sought comfort in food) - I'll lose.
The friends and family that I distanced myself (and the negativity) from - I'll gain back.
The financial stress and disastrous lack of control in my own destiny - I will control.
The disorder, disorganization, mess and clutter - will be gone.
The low self-esteem, worthlessness, ugliness and inadequacies that I feel - will be replaced.
Instead, I'll be content, confident and caring in a world I'll chose to fill with positive things:
Joy, love, happiness, laughter to name but a few.
I'll be 100% ME again - like the me that you fell in love with.
I'll find the good in life again. My soul will be revived.
And that is my future - alone - for a while.
So, the argument was over something we'd previously agreed upon - but he claimed he had not.
This resulted in me being held captive in my bedroom / bathroom for over an hour and a half.
Watching as he took the bathroom door off it's hinges. Listening to how he'd happily kill me and go to jail.
This concluded while I brushed my teeth over the bathroom vanity as he stands in the doorway behind me.
I didn't see it coming, at all!
Him lunging and putting his hands tightly around my neck and squeezing. (At 6'3" he has HUGE hands. At 5'5" I don't have any hope)
Inside, I recall smirking slightly at his amateur dramatics - although I was shocked and horrified.
I only realized how tightly my neck was squeezed in his hands when I needed air and couldn't get any.
He'll stop any second. I know he will. Please, please stop. He wasn't going to.
My first thought was that I didn't want my Mum (who I've not seen for 5 years, bless her) to hear how her baby was left dead in the bathroom,
killed by her husband (and as I type this, it makes me cry).
My second thought, ridiculously so, was how I didn't want to hurt him but I had no choice.
I still had the toothbrush in my hand, so aim it randomly over the top of my head, hopefully into his face or neck.
He moaned "Ow, you b-tch" and let go. Within the hour, as if nothing had happened, he said "Come on, let's go ...."
and do the thing he said he never agreed to in the first place - but had. Always, always, always - I give in. On this occasion,
as I should have done many times before, I stuck to my guns. That's ALL I did.
When he calmly said that, I screamed and cried and shouted "You've backed me into a f'ing corner and now you've left me no where to go.
There's only one thing I can do now" and I left the room.
Two days later while driving, I realized my head hurt as I leaned it against the head-rest of the car. I felt the back of my head and could
feel a bulge between the top of my neck and the base of my skull. It hurt, it must be bruised and swollen - but from what? He didn't bang my head against anything. Did he? Maybe he did.
No, I'd remember that. I was perturbed, until it clicked. Standing behind me, the fingers on each hand met at the front of my neck and the thumbs of each
hand pushed in at the base of my skull as he squeezed. How could you exert so much pressure? Why would you want to hurt me that badly?
He's heard I'm leaving him before. I know I've cried wolf. But he doesn't know that this time - I WILL be leaving.