Saturday, May 01, 2010

I told him I didn't want to live with him anymore. He did not get grrrr, just...sad. Tried to engage me in conversation about the "Us" and "We" and "Trying" and "pms". Yes, that time of the month. To guilt, to manipulate. So to bolster my decision to leave him, I am posting this which I wrote a few months ago. I couldn't do it earlier. Honestly, I'm not sure I want to do it now. It hurts my heart to read it.


A few months ago, after a particularly bad episode where my husband was drinking and then got physical with me, we made the vow that we wouldn't drink alcohol anymore. My husband told me that he recognized that when he drinks he feels "meaner and get angrier faster". I am not a big drinker, preferring my rooms to stay still and not spin, so this was no big deal to not drink. I was very happy that my husband realized that his drinking was a problem. We decided that we could have alcohol on "special occasions", namely holidays.

We went to a party last night, a holiday-family-friendly-gingerbread-decorating-party. Alcohol was served to the adults. We never go out, so we both agreed that this was a "special occasion". After a few drinks, my husband decided he needed more alcohol. (This was after 7 Fat Tire beers and two inches of whiskey.) I felt a little warning tug in my belly, but realized the frame of mind he was in; nothing was going to dissuade him. He went to the store, came back with a small bottle of Jack, and proceeded to drink almost the entire bottle. (I had some, maybe a shot or two.)

Eleven o'clock at night, the babies are getting tired and he is losing at poker. The subtle comments start, little references that only I would understand. He asked Messy to sit in his lap, then when Messy starts to whine, passes him to me and remarks "five days a week, I'm done". (Referring to his SAHD status). Husband's jokes are not very funny anymore, and everyone can tell that he is trying too hard.

I am sitting at the poker table. The following story was related to me by the children in the other room....
He walks into the bedroom where the children are playing, and tells Big J that she is driving home (joking). Big J replies that he doesn't have a car or a license. (Kinda' true-my car, and his license is currently suspended.) He freaks out on her, calls her "an ass" three times (let's keep in mind she's 12) and he then proceeds to scoop up Messy and slams out to the car, yelling at me that he is leaving me because my daughter is a "pole-dancing slut" and she's a "little cunt".
Seriously? SHE"S TWELVE YEARS OLD!! He then tells me that she told him to fuck off.

I raised a good girl. I know that she is not disrespectful. I know that she would never ever EVER say "fuck" to an adult. I asked her what happened, and her story was the same as everyone else in the room.

I follow my husband out to the car to talk to him, and he drives away. He watches me trying to get into the car and he drives away. I yell to him that if he continues, I will call 911 and report the car as stolen. He stops, gets out, and tells me that my daughter is disrespectful and says more unflattering things about her. He asks me if I believe him. I tell him no.

I don't believe him. He tells me that I am letting my daughter ruin our relationship, walks to the car, calls me a "fucking slut" and leaves.

Why would a grown man expect me to choose him over my child? Perhaps he doesn't understand the love a parent has for their child. Perhaps he honestly thought I would agree with him? I am so very tired of this...


Anonymous said...

Hi. I'm so sorry you and your kids, especially J1, had to go through this one. Just want to say again that I'm here.


Kristi said...

I want to say that you are a pain in the ass. I want to say that you are selfish and a not-so-great friend a lot of the time. {You are probably in shock and awe I'm sure.} I also want to say that I am going to be angry and hurt forever with you for always having putting my heart last...

but I guess I also need to say that no one knows you like I do, and no one loves you like I do either.

I don't know how to reach you - because I am a big stubborn stupidhead who could hold a grudge forever and a day over crumbs in the butter, and I threw out your letter.

But I'm here. And it seems like you NEED me. So call me.