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This story is a long one, if your not one for reading, pass over me.
In 2000 I separated from my husband, the father of my 3 children, by running away from the abusive relationship. Throwing myself into the teenage years I had missed due to pregnancies, i searched for a man who would love and care for myself and my children.
As AOL flourished, their chat rooms became an integral part of my life, chatting to new friends and hooking up with old ones. I met this one guy whose second or third request of me was “what’s your boob size?”. Maybe I should have ended the conversation there and then, but, I met up with him as he was a youth worker, in my mind he would be great with my kids!
We met up later that day, a good looking guy, very polite, things escalated at speed, culminating in us sleeping together that night. The next day he confessed his love for me, asking if he could move in. Taken aback, I gave it some thought, and, as my gung-ho approach to life was at that time, I agreed. I had known him for 2 days, then he moved in.
The speed continued, the day after he moved in he disappeared to his Mums for the afternoon, ringing me up and asking me to meet him in the town centre, I arrived to him on bended knee asking me to marry me! Wrapped up in emotion and the flourish of early love, I said yes! The date was set for 10 months time.
My children were 7, 5 and 3 when all this started. After some time he started to rule with an iron fist, installing rules that I agreed too as I considered them good for them. As time progressed further, my kids became distant and unhappy, culminating in me making the decision to send them to live with their father.
The wedding day rolled around, a registry office job with just us and two friends of mine. Standing on the railway station platform he reduced me to tears by telling me the top I had purchased for the day was too revealing. I should have ended it there and then, but I didn’t.
After the wedding we moved to a small apartment, and I descended into depression. Having never been apart from my children, he started showing his true feelings by losing his temper with me, then apologising afterwards. After 18 months my children expressed their feelings about wanting to return to live with us, so the wheels were put into motion and they returned to their home with me, and him.
It was at this point this point things descended into chaos. Trying to instil some kind of discipline into them, rules were once again put into play. His opinion that ‘children should be scared of their parents’ should have rung a bell with me, but it didn’t! I agreed to things I now know I shouldn’t as my children started bursting into tears and my son threatened to walk out. They were 12, 10 and 8 years old.
My husband had two children from previous relationships, he saw neither as courts had made him see them in access centres due to worries for their safety. Yet another thing that should have told me everything I needed to know.
His eldest daughter lived 100 miles away in a quaint village with great schools. Against my better judgement, and my childrens opinions, we moved so he could reconcile with his daughter and my kids could have a better education. The plus side was they would see their father less, as he had started a new relationship with a woman and had another child.
The move went well to start with. He found his daughter and started seeing her on a regular basis, the children started their new schools, fitting in well, they rung home and grandparents each weekend for a chat. Cracks had started in our marriage, with me feeling jealous of the bond he was forging with his daughter, coming home after their visits with a huge grin on his face, bubbly personality restored, whereas I lived with the grumpy, miserable git who barked orders at my kids when he was not stuck in front of the television playing games on his consoles.
As things started imploding, the children went to stay with his mother for a couple of weeks during the school summer holiday. She lived in the same town as their Dad, so they popped round to see him. This was when they started showing their true colours, bad mouthing us to the other side of the family, telling lies about how they were treated at home. I would be the first to acknowledge that their home life was nowhere near perfect, but it was also nowhere near as bad as they were telling other people.
It all came to a head at Christmas 2011, when they went to stay with their father for Christmas, and never returned home. My decisions had cost me my children, my depression spiralled out of control, causing an already broken relationship to fracture even further, later on I found out this was when he had started talking to women online for ‘emotional release’, as I refused to have sex with him.
As my life fell apart, so did our marriage. Firstly he met a woman in America who was 20 years younger than him, he ended our relationship and I went to stay with his mother whilst I waited to find a home. Little did I know she was spying on me for him. After 2 weeks we reconciled, me returning to the marital home.
2 years later things imploded again, this time he announced to me he was going to undergo a sex change.To my detriment I announced I couldn’t stay while he went through with it, and left. 3 weeks later he changed his mind and we reconciled.
Once again, 2 years or so later his anger, which always bubbled under the surface exploded once again. I had been subjected to bouts of abuse throughout our marriage, once I started receiving therapy for my depression, professionals pinpointed that I was experiencing domestic abuse. I just thought it was something I lived with, never realising there was a way out.
With their help I escaped, to a beautiful apartment back near my family. Wanting some of my possessions back I coordinated with him to drop some things off, not thinking about how that would seem to him. Once he stepped inside the apologies started. He would change, he was diagnosed with anxiety and depression after a suicide attempt, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. If the medication worked, then he might be a different person. I went back.
6 months after returning I realised nothing was better. The anger was just as pronounced, I still didn’t want sex with him, only giving in as a chore, once he got so bad that he would kiss and touch me all the time, until I gave in. 6 months later I left again.
This time I moved 509 miles away, to try and stay out of the way. Realising that I would be starting my life a new, with none of my possessions, I sucked it up and got on with it. Too be honest I can’t remember how it happened, but guess what?, yes, I went back again, after promising he would change.
2 months ago I left again. You find me typing this in my new apartment. He was arrested and charged this time. Which I felt bad for. I had to contact him regarding the tenancy on our previous home. Which gave him an in, once again.
What is wrong with me?!! I am laying here with him asleep in the other room, after me giving him a 6 month ultimatum that I wanted him far enough away for 6 months until I came to a firm decision.
HELP ME STAND UP TO HIM! 😩😩