A Year of Blogging: August 8, 2011

August 8 is for me, a very special day. It is the day I celebrate my independence. On August 8, 1998, I got married. On August 8, 1999, I told him I wanted out. He moved out five days later, and I filed for divorce one week later. When people first hear that my marriage lasted one year, they look at me and start to wonder. "You didn't even give it a chance!" "Why did you get married in the first place?" They start forming opinions of me before I say anything more. So I quickly tell them why it only lasted a year. I got tired of being thrown into walls. My ex-husband wasn't much taller than me, but he was a big guy. He was a bully, who used his size to intimidate people. I had witnessed him get physical with other people, including his mother. That made me pause, because I had always heard the way a man treats his mother is how he will treat his wife. But when I told him this, he assured me I was nothing like his mom. He had never been violent with me, and I guess I believed I was too smart to let it happen. Until he came along, I had always been one of the guys. Guys saw me as a great friend, but it was other girls they dated. He was the first guy who showed an interest in me beyond friendship. I don't remember when the marriage turned violent. I don't think it started right away. I don't remember much about it. I am a klutz, always walking into walls and stuff, so the bruises on arms and legs were easy to dismiss to others. About three or four months into the marriage he had a mental breakdown and lost his job. He wasn't able to get another one. Then things went downhill fast. We were living on what I made at my retail job, putting basic things like groceries on my credit cards (because he didn't have any). I remember sitting there looking at him and hating him. Not just in an 'I can't stand you' way. I actually felt this overwhelming hatred for every part of him. When people kept calling to wish us a Happy Anniversary, I couldn't take it any longer. I still don't know how I got the courage to stand up for myself. I worked with several women who were in their 50's or 60's at the time, and had been in bad marriages. They had stayed for years, because that's what you did. I was very good friends with all of these women. I listened to their stories about their husbands holding guns to their pregnant bellies, of beatings, of being cheated on. They had spent their lives being the dutiful wives, and in the end, the husbands moved on to someone else after about 30 years. I knew I couldn't go through that. I didn't want to. So I think these women gave me the courage. It wasn't easy. He moved out, leaving me with the $500 a month plus utilities apartment. I had Olde Faithful, my 12 year old station wagon that was falling apart. We divided our few belongings based on which family had given it to us for our wedding. He took the silverware, I got the dishes. I was left with the living room furniture, because I had the good credit. We bought it on a payment option, using my credit. So I had to continue to make the payments on it. He took the tv and computer, as they were his. He took the beds. Our apartment was a two bedroom apartment, and both beds had been his. He offered to leave one for me, but I didn't want to be indebted to him for anything. I went to Walmart and bought an air mattress and slept on it for more than a year. I had my dresser and desk from my childhood home, but the twin bed that matched it had been passed on to other family members. Our lawyers decided that anything that was mine going into the marriage was mine coming out, which meant the credit cards. Since we had been putting basics on the cards, on top of everything else I was left deep in debt. I don't remember the exact figure, but I think it was close to $10,000. People said I got the short end of that deal, I should have made him pay some of it. He didn't have anything since he wasn't working, and I just wanted to be done. So there I was, in Southeast Indiana where my only friends were the women I worked with. I was 800 miles away from my family and in such a deep hole, there was no sunlight to be found. My parents offered to come get me and let me move home. I refused. I knew I needed to do this on my own. I knew if I leaned on my family, I wouldn't ever be able to stand on my own. I stayed, working as much as I could. I moved to a smaller apartment that was about half the cost. I lost about 50 pounds because I bought food only after the other bills were paid. When Erich bought this house in Ohio and offered to let me move in, it was a blessing. I was able to pay off the debt, get a better job, and buy a new car. It was the start of good things, and I know there was some divine intervention that put him into my life. I look back now, 12 years later, and am amazed at how far I've come. People always ask if you have regrets, or if you could do things over again what would you do differently. I know each experience in my life, whether good or bad, has helped to make me the woman I am today. Maybe if I hadn't had such a horrible marriage, I wouldn't be as confident and independent as I am. I would be a very different person. And I like who I am. I wish I had been able to stay in touch with the women who helped me, but I think they were in my life at that time and place because I needed them. Anyone can find themselves in a bad relationship. The important thing is to trust your gut and know when to get out. Yes, what lies beyond may be scary and unknown. But holding on to something bad just because you're afraid of the unknown is unacceptable. If you don't respect yourself, no one else will. Today, I proudly celebrate 12 years and counting of freedom!