Cleaning Guns

Cleaning Guns

On one end, I had a nice life. I lived in a brand new townhome in a nice area. I had nice clothes, nice cars, I had my dog that we raised since he was a puppy, we went out to nice dinners, and got to do a lot of nice things. We went to New York, Florida, Arizona, stayed in nice hotels and resorts, etc. Egor had a brand new motorcycle. We road to different places along the beach with his cousin and his wife. I mean we had a pretty good life.

I was just so miserable though. All those things didn’t make up for my misery. Deep down, I hated everything I had and resented it because it was fake. It was like a beautiful glass bubble, so pretty on the outside, yet empty on the inside.

Egor was a man that was somewhat paranoid. He was very protective of everything he owned. Nothing in the house was really mine, it was all his, even though we bought and accumulated it together as a married couple. I’m trying to think of when the agreement was made that I would stay home and take care of the house, he would go to work, and I would have no say over anything. His attitude was that I had nothing when we met and that’s how it would be if I left.

Forget how the marriage vows went, forget what’s mine is yours, and vice versa. I assumed when we married, everything would become ours, and typically that is the law, but his personality type-which I believe to be a narcissist, makes their own rules. I did not have enough self-confidence or outside support to challenge this/his way of thinking. After a while, I just went along with it to survive.

I always had an underlying fear of Egor because he had a side of him that seemed like he could go off his rocker, like really come unhinged. He had a little bit of a doomsday mentality which is why we had two guns and a very large machete-type knife in our home. He always wanted to be prepared for the “end days” as the bible speaks about in Revelations. We were very devout born again Christians (at the time) and believed most of everything the Bible says. However, he took things above and beyond.

Egor bought a safe specifically to keep the guns and machete in. I was extremely uncomfortable with them in the house and it scared me too, given his personality. What if we got into a big fight and he decides to use one of them on me? I have never really liked guns and always believed I would live in a gun-free home. I did not want them in the house or anything to do with them. Another argument I lost.

We had a 9mm Beretta semi-automatic that was considered his and a .22 semi-automatic handgun that was considered mine. Both had hollow-point bullets. I had to learn all about how the hollow points do more damage than regular bullets, I had to go to the gun range and practice shooting, and I had to sit down with him, at home, a couple of times a week practicing loading and unloading and cleaning them.

As I am writing this it seems so strange because that is just not me. This is not what I was interested in, this is not what I wanted to be doing. I resented him so much for this and I felt afraid having the guns in our home. The only way, however, to survive and keep things cool with him, was just to do what he wanted and go along with the program, his program.

Thoughts:

You have to give up so much when you are not a whole person.