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Once Loved to Death

Part 2

By Wynette RichardsonPublished 4 years ago 4 min read
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Do you ever have that feeling, deep down in your gut, that something is wrong, but you explain it away as paranoia or overthinking things? That’s what happened to me the first time my first husband, Josh, showed me the tiniest bit of his anger issues. I say tiniest bit yet think to myself now, it really wasn’t that tiny. The anger he showed me that night was beyond what any rational anger should have been in the situation.

Still, I was young and had never experienced anything like what had just happened, so I explained it away and made excuses.

I had a best friend that was a guy, from the school that Josh and I had gone to together. They knew each other and Josh knew we were close and didn’t care. One evening, I was on the phone with Chris, like I was regularly, and, as a joke, Chris told me to say something to Josh in Spanish. I didn’t understand what it was Chris was saying and didn’t want to sound stupid, so I laughed and told him I wasn’t going to say that.

Josh asked me what I wasn’t going to say. I told him just something stupid in Spanish and I wasn’t going to repeat it (because I couldn’t….)

He LOST. HIS. SHIT. He got so incredibly angry. That was the first time he ever laid hands on me. He didn’t hit me. But he slammed me into the counter, pinned me there, and was screaming at me. The whole time, Chris was on the phone threatening to kill Josh if he laid a hand on me.

Once it was over, I cried. I shook. Then I told myself it was a one-time thing. A misunderstanding that wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t do that to me. I’m not the kind of person that kind of thing happens to. So, I did my best to shrug it off and move on.

Then it happened again. And again. And again. I did everything I could think of. I made myself smaller, quieter, less intrusive, all in an attempt to not make him mad. But it didn’t matter. Nothing I did mattered. I didn’t do anything, and he would lose his temper and slam me into walls, corner me in corners, pin me to the floor screaming in my face.

Once, the neighbors were outside, so I screamed. I cried for help. He put his hand over my nose and mouth until I almost blacked out. To this day, the PTSD from that incident alone affects my daily life.

There was another time where I had a friend that was 9 months pregnant. She and I went to water aerobics twice a week together. Josh and I got into a fight that day and he decided he didn’t want me to go but I needed to leave and get out of the house. She came to the door and I was able to get the door open enough for her to grab my arm. He had the other trying to keep me in the house. They literally played tug of war with me. I was able to get out of the house and didn’t go back. We went to her house where I knew I would be safe. He called. Then he drove around in front of the house. Then called. Then drove around in front of the house. All evening. Finally, around 2 am, I felt guilty and had her take me home. I found him laying on the rug in the middle of the living room, feeling guilty and contemplating suicide. At least, that’s what he said he was doing.

I begged him to go to counselling. I threatened to leave him if he didn’t go and get help. I told him we needed marriage counselling to help us get through this and help him with his anger. We went to 3 sessions, then his mother passed away from cancer. We went to her funeral, then didn’t go back to counselling again.

I had finally broken down and called my mom. I told her what he was doing and begged her to come get me. To help me. She told me I had gotten myself into this, I could get myself out. I was truly alone.

To be continued……

breakups
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