Before the Chapter of Change

I met my ex-husband in the police academy. He was the kind of man that made me feel like I was the only person in the room. I was put on a pedestal. It felt like true love. It was the first real romantic love I had ever known. It was a very fast courtship. We met in January of 2004 and were married on March 17^th, 2006. I was pregnant with my daughter Amber pretty quickly and she was born January of 2007. My son Hunter was born February of 2008.

My ex-husband drank a lot. I didn’t really know much about alcoholism. And I took my vows seriously. For better or for worse. Sickness and health. When my relationship with my ex started to deteriorate, I figured it could be fixed. That if he just stopped drinking, we could talk rationally about things. Not everything would be an argument. Not every discussion would be exhausting because of how little sense he ever made.

There’s a lot that happened in my marriage that I never talked about. There are still things that happened that I’ve only just started talking about. It’s been almost 11 years since we separated, and I still find myself embarrassed, scared, and weak from the whole thing. Which in and of itself is just not me. So, it throws me off when I relive everything. When I come to terms with things.

The first time he ever hit me was on our honeymoon.

Not many people know this. Even to this day, I try to minimize the abuse I endured in my marriage. I’m not sure why exactly. I know it’s a combination of things. Mostly embarrassment. Mostly because I hate that I lied to so many people during that time of my life. Not because I wanted to lie to people but because I didn’t want people to know the truth. And the truth is that my ex-husband abused me for years. It wasn’t physical abuse all the time. It was definitely emotional abuse. It was definitely financial abuse. He controlled me.

We went to Punta Cana for our honeymoon to a resort which was all-inclusive. That meant we drank our faces off. We went to dinner one night and met an incredible couple who were celebrating their wedding anniversary. We talked for hours, laughed a ton, and then we went to leave for our room. The husband and wife both hugged us goodbye and said something about how we were a beautiful couple and best wishes.

As my ex and I were walking to our room, I could tell something was wrong. He left with a smile and now he had anger on his face. I had a good buzz and I knew he had drank a lot, so I didn’t know what happened because we were having a great time. Then, out of nowhere, he called me a slut. Of course I got pissed and used some expletive words about how he should not be talking to me like that. And that’s when it happened. He pushed me against the rock wall. Held my shoulders against the wall and spit in my face. Then he said, “I could kill you down here and no one would know.”

            Great honeymoon… right? Doesn’t everyone get their life threatened by their husband on what’s supposed to be the most magical trip of their marriage?

            A staff member walked by and he let me go. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back to our room. He apologized immediately. Said he must have had too much to drink, forced me to have sex with him to “make it better” and passed out. The next day it was like nothing happened. He was the picture-perfect husband for the rest of the trip. He was the man I had “fallen in love” with. I figured it was the alcohol and he must not even remember and so I didn’t bring it up.

            It’s taken me a really long time to admit that my ex-husband forced me to have sex with him. That didn’t just happen on our honeymoon. It happened throughout our entire marriage. Even now, I know it’s rape. I know I should use that word. But as a victim of domestic violence, I know I can’t verbalize being a rape victim as well yet. Society’s always taught us that husband and wife belong to each other and sex is expected. That’s how we make babies. So, I looked at it as though I had to, even when I didn’t want to. People will read this book and tell me I’m wrong. That I can’t be raped by my husband. I’m here to tell you that it happens. It happens a lot. I’ve investigated it. I’ve helped get people charged with it. I’ve lived through it. But, I still can’t say it about myself.

Just after we moved into our new home, my very first purchased home, Amber was about five months old and she was going to be baptized. My ex was drinking all day and when Amber was napping he snapped. All of a sudden. I say this to people and they’re like, “how is that even possible?” I don’t have an answer. My ex was two different people. One way when he was sober and one way when he drank alcohol.

He came inside and he was angry. This was pretty common. He was either happy or angry. Hot and cold. No in-between. No dimmer switch. He was yelling, and I finally said I had enough and that I couldn’t take all of this anymore. I was so unhappy, and I knew it. Wrong move. Very wrong move. He grabbed me by the neck and held me against the wall. His fingers being gripped around my neck was scary. As he squeezed tighter and pushed his hand against my throat, I started to not be able to breathe and I started to get fuzzy in my head. Then a tear fell from my eye and he just let go. In that moment, I couldn’t beg him to stop. I couldn’t yell for help - but a single tear fell, and he stopped.

He went into our bedroom and grabbed his shotgun. He sat at the end of our bed and held it under his chin. When he was mad he would make this face. I’ll never forget it. He clenched his jaw and would make his cheeks puff in and out. He would either close his eyes tight or he would stare ahead blankly. I was scared. Really scared. And my baby girl was sleeping in the next room. I felt helpless.

My mind runs a million miles a minute. In that minute, I remember thinking things like - what if he turns the shotgun on me, what if he blows his face off, what if I lose my job or my baby girl, what if he misses and it goes through our wall and hits our daughter. That kind of fear isn’t something I can re-create in words for you. It paralyzed me. I knew I had to survive that moment. Then I would be able to figure the rest out.

            So, I dropped to my knees in front of him and told him I loved him, and that Amber loved him, and that whatever was going on we could get through together. He would always question the fact that I loved him. I know now that’s because he doesn’t love himself. But then, I wondered what more I needed to do so he would know I loved him. What was I doing right? What was I doing wrong? This was my every day. Walking around in my own home, working my ass off at work, trying my best to be a good wife, and it was never enough.

            After a little bit, I got him to give me the shotgun. I unloaded it and placed it next to me as he cried in his hands and I continued to kneel at his feet. I held him as he cried. He talked about how fucked up he was and how his life sucked and made him this way and also how he didn’t know how to fix it. Then he turned to me and told me he was molested as a child by a priest.

            Throughout our relationship, he always told me how much regret he had about his mom dying when he was so young. He was in his mid-teens and she passed away from cancer. His last conversation with her, he made her feel bad about being sick. He used to say that so much of the reason he was mad at himself was because of how he treated his mom before she died. He also said his dad used to beat him and only him.

            Here I am, kneeling at his feet, I just pulled a loaded shotgun from under his chin, and he tells me that he endured sexual abuse as a kid. And when coupled with his mom dying and his dad abusing him, I felt like I needed to save him. And that even though moments earlier he was holding my throat so hard that the life was literally leaving my body, that it was all forgiveable because it wasn’t really him. None of it was his fault. If he had a better childhood – if he had MY childhood – none of this would be happening. He needs counseling. He can get better. He loves me. That’s why he let go. That’s why he let me take the shotgun. That’s why he is crying. This isn’t the man I married. I married the good one. This one was the sum of everything shitty that happened to him.

            And so I stayed.

            I thought about leaving. I thought about a plan to get out. I had to make it through Amber’s baptism because 100 people were coming, and I didn’t want anyone to know. In my mind, I tried to rationalize everything and stick it out and see how it was going to go. The next day, I woke up and had strangulation marks on my neck. No amount of makeup could cover it up. It was May. Couldn’t wear a turtle neck or a scarf. Especially as a cop who had a mandatory uniform. People knew. My Captain questioned me. I played it off. Not sure how convincing I was but the conversation stayed a simple conversation.

I’m not proud of the lies I told. I look back now and realize if I had told the truth to just one person, maybe everything would be different. But I was scared. Scared of so much more than I can even write about. I came to find out later that I wasn’t the only one lying. My ex was never molested by a priest. He was never beat by his father. These lies he told me were all a part of the manipulation. He used these lies to control me. To keep me. To alienate me. I lost who I was because of that control.

Prince Charming was back after the shotgun incident. Like full force. He had called his insurance about counseling. Cut back on the drinking… or so it appeared. He was engaging and sweet and remorseful and openly discussing what bothered him. Very strange for us. So, I was optimistic. And I got pregnant four days later while he was “trying to make it better.”

Hunter is 12 ½ months younger than Amber. My ex-husband was amazing to me when I was pregnant. My growing belly was a symbol of ownership to him. Again, all about the control and the image. And yeah, it took me a long time to realize that’s what it was. But it made him feel like a man. And I was helping create a human life that loved him unconditionally. I was a pawn in his sick world that he moved - whenever he wanted - through his lies and through fear.

I hated myself back then. I hated who I had become. I hated the exhaustion. I hated being married. I felt like a failure. I felt like a horrible mom for bringing two kids into this toxic environment. I felt like I had no control. Something needed to change. Unfortunately, it took him doing something even more horrific for me to flip the coin.