Shattered

“Petty” “Shallow” “Scapegoat” “Selfish” “Lol” “Wow” “Lie” “Soulmate” “Thankyou” “Sugar coat” “Complete jerk” “Fall guy” “Enjoy your day” “Focus on her” “Fix you own ruts” “Nothing changed” “You changed” “Complete shit show” “Out of control” “You feel sorry for her” “You support her” “You defend her” “I'm glad your happy” “Just needed to clarify” “I know how you feel” “Distort the truth” “That's your opinion” “I saved everything” “Glad things are better” “Sorry you feel that way” “I don't fucking care” “I'm not apologizing” “Your kid was a complete asshole” “Your choice has been to defend her” “Thanks for valentines day” “You've spent years sympathizing with her, defending her” “We have very different memories” “Keep doing what your doing” “I have your/her words” “You two have the relationship you wanted” “I completely understand how you feel. You don't need to repeat yourself.” “The nonsense you said about your conversations with Madeline” “Maybe work through that with your counselor” “And congrats, the real world slapped your kid in the face and she's living with someone that doesn't take the BS and she needs her mommy back.” “The only time things got better is when you took her phone away.” “I don't accept a person that forgets” “You wanna go back to day one, let's do it. We can talk about it all!” “Difference is, in Tucson I was nothing more than a guest with a dresser drawer. Up here I didn't need to take it.” “3 people working, there wasn't going to be the 4th sitting around.” (about making my daughter do MOST of the house cleaning) “I will never apologize for parenting” (he calls punishment “parenting”) “I was more than willing to forgive and forget” (biggest lie yet) “I have zero sympathy for Madeline”

(His misspellings, not mine) (He forced me to take her phone away – abusive control)

---

My last post was written Monday morning. Today is Saturday.

I am completely exhausted. My brain is mush. I struggled to get any work done all week. As a result, I'm behind (again) and have a LOT of catching up to do. But I can't for the life of me sit still or stay on one topic for long. My anxiety is through the roof. I have spent far too much time pacing. My house is a mess. I haven't left the house since Tuesday. It's cold outside and the weather has been gross, which does absolutely nothing to motivate me to go out. I'm honestly considering skipping church tomorrow if the snow doesn't melt off the driveway. I don't have the energy to deal with the sleet that is now frozen solid and snowed over.

I am also numb. I have no energy left for emotions. Just completely drained. This fight felt different – yet lately they ALL feel different. No name-calling this time. He is getting more and more covert as time goes. He hasn't gotten his son, family, or exes involved in the last few fights (that I know of). This time no “stuff” battle. I only have a hoodie and a few other things at his house. His pizza maker is at mine. No word on that yet. I won't go over there. Why would I? He refuses to ever drop my stuff off. Makes me come get it. Tells me “I owe you nothing.” I don't want him here because I don't want him passive-aggressively doing more damage to my landlord's property. At the same time I wonder if he's too ashamed to show his face here because of what he did. Because he's worried that the people here think less of him (as they should). And because he's not man enough to apologize to my landlord for the damage he caused and make it right. The behavior itself doesn't change.

It was also very much the same. He hung up on me several times mid-sentence. (Never mind how angry he gets if I do it even ONCE.) Forced the conversation into text – to add to his collection of “evidence,” I'm sure. A vast majority of the fight was about Madeline, as it usually is. The same old stuff over and over. Round and round, in endless circles. But also bringing up countless, totally unrelated things to bicker about. For the millionth time.

Monday afternoon we were arguing the move to Wisconsin and whether the intent was to move permanently vs. going for the summer. Forced me to go back and re-read the conversation. The exercise was horrifying. Me repeatedly asking what the plan was and him never directly answering me. But then getting angry

Every time, I think “this is it. This is finally over for good. This time I can actually move on with my life. Pursue my healing journey.”

But then it's not over. He'll show up at my house, finally calm and ready to have a rational conversation. Or he'll want to meet for a drink. Or he'll do something vaguely resembling nice. He'll say something that implies he's sorry, that he'll work on not doing XYZ. The next thing I know I'm sucked right back in. Expected to spend nearly every evening and weekend with him, very little time to to take care of my needs, and for the most part ignoring the elephant in the room. Just pretending these problems aren't here.

Until the next time he gets mad about something. Anything.

His most recent trend is to call me “shallow.” Just out of the blue with no context or reasoning behind it. To the point where I wonder if he even knows what the word means. I guess he has to find new insults since the old ones are worn out.

“We both know I am anything but shallow. I am also not insecure. I know my worth is not based on anything you think or say about me. Or anyone else, for that matter. Your words don't make me a bad person. Knowing that makes your insults look pretty ridiculous.”

“Thankyou.” “I'm glad your happy Emily. There is really no purpose for continuing our conversation.”

“I don't need your validation, Garrett. Your criticism is no longer able to bring me down – I'll just point out the ways it applies to you and not me. I also don't need this level of negativity in my life. It's destructive and I'm not interested.”

“Thankyou!” “Your right. Totally agree. What matters is we are each happy.”

“At this point I don't know that you're even willing to accept happiness. Certainly not with me. I've also witnessed the way you pick other people apart, so I know it's not just me. But I don't have to accept this chronic negativity.”

“I know”

That was yesterday around noon. We haven't spoken since.

EDIT: didn't realize this didn't publish until about a week later.

2/20/23

I'm realizing I haven't written in here in quite a while. A lot has happened.

I came across my first hand-written journal the other day. I started it as a way to process my thoughts about what has been going on with Garrett. Partly to document it, but also to try to work through the confusion and hopefully identify patterns. I found it to be a pretty difficult task because there was SO MUCH happening and a lot of the times even writing it down didn't seem to make it any less overwhelming. I've also varied quite a ways from my initial style of writing down words and phrases he used, documenting events, and keeping track of potential links to the mood swings like menstrual cycles and illnesses. I also attempted to keep track of my physical and mental health in relation to the fights. Part of this is because of my pure need to just vent my frustrations sometimes. Another part is because there are often long gaps between writing and I feel the need to explain some backstory for some of this to make sense. This is a very dramatic relationship. Lots going on. Way too much to handle. As for the gaps, sometimes I'm just too emotionally exhausted or confused to even try to reduce what is happening to words. I also struggle to have time to do this. If we're not busy arguing, I'm expected to spend a majority of my free time with him, which means very little time alone with privacy to write. I will attempt to get back to that initial documentation style and see if it helps bring some clarity.

Of course, this story requires some back story.

Tuesday was Valentine's day. I expected nothing because he's never done anything for me in previous years and it's not as important as my birthday or Mother's Day to put energy into getting upset about it. He surprised me by bringing me flowers, a nice card declaring his undying love, and brought me to a very nice steakhouse. Really turned on the charm. I thought he was going to expect sex but he didn't ... yet. Tuesday night he stayed at my place. Wednesday morning after he left I got a call from my landlord about deep ruts in the grass next to the driveway caused by Garrett's dually. He was very nice about it. I apologized and told him we would figure something out with the parking situation. When I told Garrett about it, he was apologetic to me and promised he would fix it. But he also acted very angrily about my landlord saying something about it and said some very rude things about him. I did my best to ignore the comments and not feed into them. His comments about my landlord extended into the weekend.

Wednesday we had our “first” couples counseling session. This was an ultimatum given by him a few fights ago. (In the space between booking the session and actually attending, there were more fights and breakups. Absolutely nothing breaks or even pauses the cycle.) My thoughts on couples counseling in this relationship will have to be shared another day. This session is with an actual licensed therapist – not a young, inexperienced and easily-manipulated Lutheran Pastor like the last time we tried this. And unlike either of the people we previously sought help with, someone completely new to Garrett. (Scott he has known for many years, Pastor Burke is his parents' pastor.)

I have been having quite a lot of anxiety about trying couples counseling again. In the past, things that get said in these counseling sessions tend to trigger fights. He gets very angry about things I say in counseling and often takes it out on me later – so I definitely knew it was a big risk. He also has a history of using those sessions to try to turn the counselor against me – attempting to get the person to side with him. Manipulating the sessions to make him look like the loving, doting partner and make me (and Madeline) look like monsters. It didn't work on Scott – at least not long-term. Pretty sure that's the underlying reason he got mad at Scott and stopped seeing him (and then all but demanded that I stop seeing him.) Our last session with Pastor Burke, he set the stage for an argument. He picked a topic we had been disagreeing on lately and insisted on pushing me on it. He then brought that disagreement into the counselling session in what appeared to be an attempt to get Pastor Burke to side with him and participate in putting pressure on me. He also insisted on driving together. By the time we got to the church I was already pushed pretty close to my limit. The discussion got heated, with Garrett getting up several times, pacing, interrupting and talking over me, raising his voice, acting like he would storm out, etc. My anxiety skyrocketed. I was careful to stay calm and tried hard to not let these tactics get a reaction. But I felt trapped – forced to discuss something I was sick of fighting about. My perspective, my needs, and my feelings on the topic were being devalued and flat out ignored. I was also scared. Scared to get in the car with him and drive back to my place (where his truck was) with him in this state. I knew without a doubt this was well on its way to escalating into a nasty fight that would go on for days. The anxiety I was experiencing was physical. I felt as though I would shatter right there. Somehow I found the strength to stand up, mutter an apology to Pastor Burke, and leave. Many times afterword Garrett accused me of “storming out in a rage” and claimed Pastor Burke was shocked by my outrageous behavior – that he completely sided with Garrett, that he “saw” what was going on, and that I was “exposed” for who I am. Of course none of this was ever confirmed by Pastor Burke himself. We never saw him again. That scene and those comments showed me that he was using counseling to as another method to bully and humiliate me – attempting to manipulate counseling sessions for validation and to claim another person saw me as the villain in this relationship.

Back to Wednesday's counseling session.

Since it was our first session it was pretty vanilla. The usual gathering of information and “getting to know you” stuff. Of course the issues between him and Madeline came out as part of that process. At one point the therapist asked if we had tried having a conversation with her about her impressions of Garrett and if that helped at all. I responded that I had, in the past, had many conversations with her and they did seem to help – until she overheard our loud arguments, the things that were being said to me and the names I was being called – and that pretty much undid everything. I think I used the phrase “hey, that's my mom!”

The rest of the week was somewhat calm, though looking back I'm realizing there were signs.

Thursday was a snowstorm and he had to plow, which means I had a very rare opportunity to spend the evening alone without eventually fighting about it. Friday I was invited to go with church friends to see other church friends perform at a local pub. I declined because of the Friday Night Fights of the past – Fridays belong to Garrett. I instead spent my Friday night at Garrett's house. It was a nice evening. We fried fish and made tacos for dinner, hung out for a bit, and went to bed fairly early.

That night we had sex. We were on the couch and for the first time in a very long time he kissed me for real – more than the usual peck in the face kiss – and I thought maybe I would get to enjoy sex for once. In the bedroom he went straight to business. Just took my clothes off and started. Zero foreplay. At least he had courtesy of using the vibrator so I got a few moments of pleasure before giving him what he wanted. But he did very little to try to arouse me for actual intercourse – just started doing it. When I asked for lube he got up and walked around looking for something multiple times (it was right by the bed). That made things worse. I resigned myself to suffering through it until he was done. He even made me get on top.

Saturday afternoon I went home to get some stuff done. For the first time maybe ever he didn't complain or get passive-aggressive with me about me leaving. He just let me go and worked on his Jeep for several hours. Saturday evening I tried texting him and he was very distant and short with me.

That carried into Sunday. He refused to reach out to me first to say good morning. His response to me was very stilted, formal, curt. “I'm good, you?” “I'm good. Just got home.” – “Nice, enjoy your day” .... Okay, something is definitely up. Called him to talk about it. He sent my call to voicemail. Texted that he's talking to his dad (another hypocrisy of his that we can discuss later – just a few weeks ago I had to cut a call with my mom short because he showed up at my house earlier than planned). When he called me back I asked what was wrong. He insisted nothing was wrong, nothing was bothering him, etc. I'm not buying it. I told him I know him well enough to know when something is up and that now was the time to talk about it – calmly. Not a few days from now after convincing himself of assumptions that weren't reality and lead to another nasty fight.

A few hours later he called me. Pretended to be discussing calmly but started peppering me with questions about our counseling session. Said he wanted to “clarify” a few things. He asked me about the comment I made about my conversations with Madeline. He wanted to know when that conversation took place. I told him there were several, dating back to Tucson (even before the fighting started, actually) and that they did help some with her demeanor and her attitude toward him but that he didn't notice because he was busy focusing on small details like facial expressions or comments and using them to make accusations and start arguments. And then when she overheard the fights and saw the way I was being treated her attitude toward him changed back. He then asked if her attitude towards him could have been because of the things she overheard me saying to him. I told him I don't know if she overheard any of that (he is more prone to shouting and is much louder than I am. Also I didn't start standing up for myself until a year and a half after it started.). He insisted she did. I told him her attitude towards him changed long before I started fighting back. Again, she was witnessing his treatment of me and the names he called me all the way back in Tucson. He attempted to claim he didn't start calling me names until we moved to Wisconsin. I told him the name-calling started very early on in Tucson and reminded him that the first time it happened I told him name-calling is off limits, that I consider it abusive language, and that his response was to get angry and to call me names even more. He, of course, claimed to not remember any of that. He later accused me of lying about my conversations with Madeline. Called it “nonsense.”

Long story somewhat shorter, that escalated into another fight and breakup.

A few hours into it I recognized the pattern of a mood change followed by a fight and breakup within a few days of sex. It happens almost every time – if not every, with the possible exception of our first few months dating.

This morning my running mind woke me up early. I did a little googling on mood changes after sex. Apparently there is a thing called Postcoital Dysphoria (PCD). There is very little information about it affecting men. It seems to be more prevalent in women, but recent studies show that some men experience it too. It appears to stem from childhood trauma. Some sites suggest this can include a history of childhood sexual abuse. He has never mentioned sexual abuse but I do know he has some very deep-rooted and unresolved issues from childhood. I don't know much other than that his dad often “brow-beat” him about things and his mom was not particularly loving. Absolutely nothing of what he's told me is significant enough to explain how he is today. I do know that suggesting possible PCD will make him angry.

On Tuesday, June 28, 2022 at 8:37 p.m. the sun set in Waukesha, Wisconsin – the moment Tori's heart beat for the last time. Five minutes later, at 8:42 p.m. the sun set in Madison – the moment her passing was officially declared.

It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. I noticed it as I was walking Madeline to her car, which was parked on the roof of the parking garage. There were just enough wispy clouds to give the sky the shades of blues and whites, with hints of pinks and purples. I thought about taking a picture but knew my phone could never capture the true magnitude of beauty I was witnessing.

I few minutes later I was back down on the ground and saw not one, but three hummingbirds in a bush with red flowers that I hadn't noticed before. Again, I thought about taking a picture but the light was fading and I knew they would be gone by the time I got my phone out.

Soon after, we learned the wait was over. I think it's safe to say we all secretly breathed a sigh of relief. We also learned that in that last hour they had found a FIFTH match for her organs. Of course, it's just like our loving, generous, and responsible Tori to go beyond just a sticker on her driver's license – she made sure her passing wouldn't be in vain – and then she hung around just long enough to save as many lives as she possibly could.

I wish I could say I loved Tori from the moment I met her, but that wouldn't be entirely true. Thinking back now, I think it happened the first time her dad told me about her – and grew a little more with each memory he shared. But I'm pretty sure he failed to describe the sound of her laugh and the way she shook her shoulders – or the way she gestured when she was excited or pursed her lips when she was thinking. The funky glasses she loved wearing. The way she welcomed a “new” sister without hesitation. Bonded with her over plants and fish and whatever else. Taught her how to drive. I loved listening to them laugh together.

I'm pretty sure she never walked silently into a room, but even if she did you would still know she was there.

I love every single memory her dad and brother share with me, though sometimes I'm a little jealous. I wish I could have been there for those moments. Even more, I wish I could have made more of my own.

Sheryl, I know I've said this once before, but it bears repeating. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU for sharing your beautiful girl and her incredible brother with me.

Have you ever felt a sadness so intense you can't ignore it, yet so elusive you can't pinpoint it? So overwhelming it feels as though you've been ripped in half -but at the same time buried so deep it seems you'll never find it. That need to cry it out, but you don't know how to bring it to the surface. Somewhere in there is a tiny, titanium bullet twisting and turning, bouncing around and wreaking havoc. You wish you could dig down and rip it out but ... you know you'll never find it and trying will just do more damage. Have you ever wanted ... NEEDed ... to walk into a strong chest and feel a pair of arms wrap around you and hold you tight? Only to remember no such chest and arms exist. At least not for you. So that bullet keeps twisting and bouncing. That hole grows bigger and bigger. It threatens to consume you, but still you can't find it to rip it out.

What if I told you I know when my hole started forming?

It was right before Thanksgiving and just a few short days after one of the best birthdays of my life. I made a mistake. A grave mistake. But I had to. I had to turn my back on that chest and those arms. I had to. My Monster returned. Turns out he had not yet fully released me. I couldn't drag him into this nightmare. He could have helped me – maybe even saved me. Wanted to! But I couldn't introduce him to my hell. He deserves better. So I did a thing I may regret forever. I allowed myself to hurt him in order to spare him. So I set him free. He was hurt, upset, maybe even a little mad. Said some hurtful things. And then he apologized. That is when I KNEW. This man is a good man. The kind I've always wanted. The kind I claim to deserve. Truly an angel in human form. And I knowingly hurt him. Pushed him away to go another round (or ten) with a demon.

Since then my hell has continued to get deeper and hotter by the month. Worse than I could have ever imagined. There seems to be no end. And I'm in this completely alone. I seek consolation knowing that this pain is not being inflicted on another, innocent party. I hope you are well. I wish I could have you as my own, but I could never live with myself if you became collateral damage at the hands of My Monster. I hope you are living your life to the fullest, happier than you've ever been. I hope you are safe and completely oblivious to the flames that now consume me. But most of all I hope you can forgive me. Not for me – for YOU. I pray every day that your beautiful soul emerged unscathed.

Mother's Day

I'm not going to put on a fake face this year. The truth is I'm not a good mother. None of us are. The only difference is some of us are forgiven for our mistakes. Some of us have some help. Some of us get lucky.

Not me.

Here's something that's really been bothering me lately: How? How did this happen again? How did I end up in another abusive relationship?

The first one was many years ago. A lifetime, really. I was in my early twenties. He was charming, funny, sweet .. until he wasn't. Behind closed doors he was angry, manipulative, demeaning. The abuse was verbal, emotional, psychological, sexual .. you name it. He would flip without any notice. One moment everything is fine, next he's raging – shouting every obscenity imaginable at the top of his lungs. threatening, throwing things, punching holes in walls, basically trashing the place. A lot of that time is blocked from memory – I can only recall bits at pieces. Like hiding in back corner of the closet crying for what felt like an eternity. Or showing up to my sister's wedding looking (and feeling) like a sack of bones, dark circles under my eyes, my size 4 dress hanging on me like I was playing dress-up in mom's clothes. Or his aunt asking me if I'm okay and wanting desperately to beg her for help but couldn't because he was standing right there. Or standing over my daughter's crib while she slept at night begging her forgiveness for giving her such a nightmare of a life. Or the night I locked myself in her room and slept on the floor – no blanket, pillow, or even my phone – trying to block out the sound of him taunting me for hours through the walls. Thank God for my parents. I finally found the courage to set my shame aside and told them a little bit of what was going on. When dad showed up to help me pack my bags and leave he showed Dad his true colors. It was a long, dark road. The divorce was ugly – and it was expensive. But I finally escaped. I spent the next several years adjusting to the Only Parent life, busting my ass to make ends meet, and healing. Learning from my mistakes. Memorizing the red flags. Protecting my heart from men. Sure, I dated off and on, but I never really let anyone close enough. “Never Again,” I said for a long time. Slowly, I learned to trust again. The scars were still there, but eventually I found myself in a long-term relationship. When it ended it wasn't because he was a bad person – not even close. He was the kind that would never intentionally hurt anyone or anything. And if I told him he was doing something that bothered me he listened – and worked hard to not do it again. Boundaries were respected – always. It just didn't work out. In the end, we were at different places with different goals in life. We parted ways amicably. I wasn't vulnerable. I wasn't damaged or broken, no damsel in distress here. I was a strong, independent woman. I was simply ready to move on. So how did it happen again? How – after 14 years of healing and working on myself – did I find myself in another abusive relationship? Back then what I went through wasn't shameful – I was young and dumb. But now I know better. I know what to watch out for and what types to stay away from. I wasn't vulnerable or desperate for a man. So how, exactly, did I end up here again? Today it hit me: Victims aren't the only ones who “live and learn.” That's how. Think about it. Abuse is a skill. If it wasn't, no one would get away with it! Every skill is mastered with practice. A surgeon who operates several times a week will gain experience faster than one who only operates a few times a month. A surgeon who progressively adds to his skillset is more experienced than one only only performs the same, simple procedure over and over during the same time frame. A surgeon with 20+ years of experience is capable of performing much more intricate procedures than one who just started. So while victims are spending years recovering from their trauma, their abusers are out there expanding their skillset at a much faster rate. Just like surgeons, abusers don't need recovery time before moving to the next. Some of them even work overtime, working multiple victims at once. And that entire time they are taking notes and they are evolving. When a victim escapes they think of ways to keep the next one trapped. When one trick stops working they'll find a new one. As victims get wiser, so do abusers. Ultimately, master abusers have learned the fine art of making red flags look like white ones.

THIS is why an abuser in his 40s barely resembles an abuser in his 20s. The one in his 40s is more experienced and has acquired many more tools along the way. Tools like isolation, slander, or financial abuse. Isolation removes a victim from the support and resources she needs to escape – which is exactly why at 40 I don't have the resources I had (family/friends nearby) to escape like I did in my 20s. Slander damages her credibility and even recruits others to join in on the abuse. Financial abuse makes her dependent and restricts resources necessary to make an escape.

Some tools they even steal from their victims! Tools like documenting everything. Remember the time Garrett's behavior changed because he was recording our conversations? He learned that from someone – my guess is someone who started documenting things to protect herself (or maybe keep her thoughts straight like I did). Of course, in typical abuser fashion he twisted this tool and turned it into a weapon: blackmail. Another tool a master abuser will use as a weapon: the legal system. “Just get a restraining order” they say. (Be honest, how many times have you said that?) Restraining orders are nice. Sometimes they work. But there are many reasons they don't. Restraining orders are like laws – they only work on people that abide by them. If abusers were rule-followers, they wouldn't be abusers, would they? Sadly, sometimes a restraining order can infuriate an abuser and ultimately do more harm than good. Sometimes the legal system fails – by either not granting the order for whatever reason, or by not timely serving it. The other problem: they work both ways. An abuser at risk of being exposed will retaliate – but never at the same level. He will always take it a step further. It doesn't matter if he has legal grounds. If he has already started his smear campaign and documenting baited conversations for “evidence” against you, he has absolutely no problem lying to the authorities to intimidate or get revenge for exposing him. All abusers are liars. They have to be in order to justify their actions.

My first abuser was a rookie. My second abuser has mastered his art.

He put his hands on me again.

Multiple times.

This time it was more than a brief shove. It was prolonged. Hands on both of my shoulders. Then completely wrapped his arms around me from behind as I tried to get away from him. Once in the kitchen, once in the bedroom. Blocked me several times. I did my best to not engage .. escalate.

A lot has happened since I last wrote. Way too much to write about right now.

I threw away a chance with a really good man. One who loves God and actively encourages the growth in my relationship with Him. One who was always kind to me and truly spoiled me, simply out of the goodness of his heart. I ended up hurting him and I hate myself for that.

Around my birthday Garrett did something truly awful. Around Thanksgiving (a week later) I gave him another chance. He seemed SO apologetic. Remorseful. About (almost) everything (not quite, but better than ever before). I thought he was different this time. Believed he really was trying. Cautiously allowed him another chance to mend things. And then yesterday, while I was working, he worked himself into another one of his moods. Wouldn't let it go. We had plans to go to Keith's party. I took the day off from my second job for the occasion. But he wanted to complain about said second job. Wouldn't let it go. Wants me to quit. Claims it's for my “health”. Truth is, it cuts into his time with me. Never mind that I've cut back my hours for him. Never mind that he has seen me literally every single day for one reason or another since the day before Thanksgiving. But that's not enough. He wants ALL of it! It's just a matter of time before he starts bitching about my day job too. And my church. And time spent with friends I've made in church or elsewhere. As it is, I have minimal control over my time and my schedule. My home is falling apart. I never have time to clean, or even just relax. He blames this second job, where I work 1-2 days a week. Not the fact that within 20 minutes after my shift ends at my day job he's at my house (if not WHILE I'm trying to work) or I'm expected to be on my way to him (if not already working from his house). I haven't had time to clean, do laundry, Christmas shop/decorate, or even grocery shop. Even my morning time I've set aside to read my bible and pray has suffered. Because most nights he wants to be here or me there – which means my morning time is gone. NO time to myself! But he decided to complain about a second job that takes up way less of my time and gives me an opportunity to get out of the house and around people. And wouldn't drop it. Just kept going. And going. I tried everything I could to avoid arguing. But he demands responses. Then gets offended. He bitched all the way to Keith's. We got about a block away and he turned around and headed back home. Almost home he turned around and headed back to Keith's. Still arguing. We eventually made it inside and stood around awkwardly for about an hour, then left. Argued all the way back to his house. He continued with the conversation. As usual, brought it around to several unrelated topics. Then decided he wanted to go to a bar. I told him I wanted to go home because he refused to stop arguing. That wasn't acceptable, so I went with him. Spent a little time there, but he continued the argument IN the bar. So we left. But as I was waiting to cash out (yes, I've been paying lately, because he's unemployed and broke) he bumped into an old friend. Then, of course, got mad that he couldn't hang out with said friend. I insisted on driving. I barely drank and he was acting erratic by then. At one point he told me to let him out so I pulled over. He refused to get out. Instead started shouting at me. “Just SHUT UP!” And many other things. When we got to his out he was out of the car before I could even stop the car. Went inside and locked me out. Problem is my stuff was inside – most importantly, my work equipment. Told me to come back another day for it. I knew this wasn't something that wouldn't calm down in the next couple of days and I couldn't have him holding my belongings and work equipment hostage again. (Yes, again.) I have a key. Tried the first door, but it didn't work. Tried the front door and that opened. He blocked the door and tried to stop me from coming inside. Grabbed me and said he would call the cops. I told him I just wanted to grab my things and leave. Tried to walk away, out of his grasp, but he wrapped his arms around me from behind and forced me into the kitchen. I almost smacked my eye on a cabinet twisting to get away from him. (Maybe I should have .. evidence. But he would just justify and blame me.) When he finally let go I started to gather my things. He made a scene of “helping” .. then took my things away and wouldn't give them to me. Tried to force me to stay. In the bedroom getting my personal belongings he grabbed me again. Wouldn't let go. I broke down. Ugly cried. Terrified. Afraid I would never get out. Hysterical. “What are you doing?” “You're hurting me!” “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Me thinking: “this isn't love, love doesn't do this!” “Don't ever put your hands on me again!” “Get your hands off me!” At one point it was “here you go with the abuse thing again. Are you in fear for your life right now? “Actually, yes! I never thought you would actually DO these things! This behavior would never change!” In fact, they will keep getting worse and he will continue justifying them. Several times I thought about pushing the panic button on my phone. Maybe I should have. But I feared the police wouldn't come in time. Or ... their presence would make things worse. I just had to find a way to get out safely. Somehow I managed to get out of the house with my things (or most of them, I don't know. At least I have my work stuff. The rest I don't care about.) He followed me out and blocked my car door, tried to stop me from getting in. Eventually he let me go. Probably afraid that making a scene outside would alert the neighbors. I honestly have no idea where the dogs were during all this. They cower when we fight. Winnie used to try to defend me, but now she just hides. Ruger too. I feel so bad for them. Ruger especially. He is MY dog. He has no idea what's going on. Truly loves me more than anyone ever has. But he's a big baby. I don't blame him. Several angry text messages and missed phone calls from him through the night. Lots of blaming. Calling me selfish. Not once did he acknowledge his actions, or their effect on me. On the way home I started to notice pain in the left side of my abdomen. Worried that I pulled something or even damaged a kidney trying to escape his grasp. Considered turning around and heading to the ER to get checked out. But I knew there wouldn't be any bruises (man, is he good!) and I would just be accused of overreacting. So I went home. The pain was still there this morning, and through most of the day. I think I'm okay now. Mostly just numb. I haven't responded to anything since pulling out of his driveway.

This morning was a single missed call from him and one text: “have a nice day.” Around 7:00 – 7:30 a.m. Nothing since then. That's unusual for him. Probably already fucking his ex again. (Yes, that happened, caught red-handed, verified and even admitted. Happy 40th birthday to me.) This time I don't care.

I refuse to live in this hell. He has made it VERY clear that he has not changed – and never will. Un-corrected abuse will ALWAYS escalate.

The woman I once was is dead. But a new, better, even stronger woman will emerge from the ashes.

T R A S H

I've finally figured it out. So many times I've asked why? Begged and pleaded for an answer.

Why does he do this? Why does he treat me this way? Why does he throw me out over every little disagreement?

Today I found my answer.

It's because, to him, I am disposable. Worth no more than a paper plate. Use and toss. Not deserving of respect. Trash. Serve and expect nothing in return. To be thrown around, ripped, broken, mistreated without a second thought. Of course I shouldn't have feelings! Needs. Wants. Desires. Expectations. Boundaries of my own. Trash doesn't have any of those things.

He spent months with his truck. Caring for it, caressing it, getting the paint juuust right. It gave him problems and he just poured more love to it. While I sat on the sidelines watching him break promises to me. I had needs during that time too. I needed an office to work in. That would have taken mere hours. Hell, I would have put the walls up myself, I just needed him to pick up drywall! I needed attention. I needed a break. We made plans to go places. Do things together. Nourish our relationship. He broke those plans to spend time with his truck. Repeatedly. This winter he showed me that he loves his truck more than he has ever loved me. I am disposable. His truck is not.

Trash doesn't get handled with care, does it? The only thing that doesn't deserve at least some level of respect is trash. He even taught his son to treat me like trash. He swore to me that he would never allow his son to talk badly about me. If he did, he would beat his ass. But in the end he encouraged it. When Madeline said things about him, I stood up for him. Defended him. Set the record straight with my friends and whoever else she spoke to. Time and time again. When Zach started saying things about me he encouraged it. Turned on me. Used Zach's words as more weapons against me. Validation. I sent Zach a text last week apologizing for the drama, my part in it, and him being brought into it. He ignored me. He didn't even have the decency to respond. Because he also views me as trash. Learned that one from his dad. They both truly believe they are superior to everyone.

This is why he didn't care about my needs. Why I couldn't talk to him about my feelings without having his feelings shoved down my throat. Why he wouldn't respect my boundaries. This is exactly how he could justify the name-calling, insults, demeaning comments. The abuse. The “find someone who gets a blowjob before coming home from work” comment.

Tuesday 8/31/21 Monday – Invited him over for dinner. After eating, insisted on starting an argument. Mad at me for telling Scott about the “blowjob after work” comment. Accused me of lying to Scott. Acted like he was going to leave several times, but wouldn't go.

Okay, I'll back up a bit. I just needed to get that off my chest really quick. But how far back do I go?

Mondays are our counseling days. We each have an hour with Scott. Last week we had plans to go hiking together after our meetings. But leading up to it, he had been obsessed with the abuse allegations. Something I haven't mentioned in months. But that came up in his previous session with Scott, so of course Scott asked me about it when we talked. Since it was brought up, I told him. Pretty much everything. I told him about the name-calling and the frequent threats to leave/throw me out. I told him about him recording our conversations and baiting me into losing my temper on record. I told him about all the things he's damaged in a fit of rage. I told him about stomping on my phone, following me around the house when I was trying to get away, blocking me in doorways. I told him about me trying to hide in the bathroom and him shoving the door open. I told him about the shoving incident. So after his session, Garrett canceled our hiking plans. Blamed the heat (it WAS hot). But then got mad that I told Scott about the shoving incident. Started another nasty fight. I ended up having a mid-week emergency session with Scott. I asked him if I'm wrong to consider his behavior abuse? No. Verbal attacking falls under the category of abuse. By Thursday night things finally deescalated and we spent the weekend together swimming and fishing. We actually had a really amazing time. Garrett was talking about planning a getaway for next weekend (Labor Day weekend). And then ... our Scott sessions happened. I had invited him to come have dinner yesterday evening after our sessions. Silly me, I already know those sessions put him in a nasty mood, because he's asked about things he would rather not admit to. I told Scott about the calendar/schedule argument that he won't let go – even though it's a non-issue now – and how he refuses to ever repair or replace anything of mine that he damages out of anger. I told Scott about Madeline's apology letter to Garrett, and how that seemed to finally give him what he was looking for – but didn't know how long it would last. I don't think I told him about feeling like lately he's looking for ways to fight, so he has an excuse to throw me out – making me wonder if he's intentionally trying to get rid of me so he can be with someone else. I did tell Garrett that, though. He insisted that's not happening. Scott had a few things to ask me. He said Garrett feels like I twist things. For example, I accused him of cheating. I told Scott I never accused him, but I did ask. I told him it started months before, we had been arguing about sex, then told him about Garrett telling me to find someone who gets a blowjob before coming home from work. I told him that Garrett, to this day, has refused to apologize for that comment and has shown absolutely no remorse. I told him I don't think it's that much of a stretch for someone who thinks saying something like this to actually escalate to cheating. I told him how badly that messed with my head. Where my mind went every time he came home from work late, decided to stop for beers with Keith or whatever without checking in or telling me where he was. I told him how if I was out running errands, I made sure to be home around the time he normally comes home, and then waiting around for him not knowing where he was or when he would be home. I told him how when he was plowing snow I never really knew how long it would take. Similar snowstorms could take anywhere from 4 – 14 hours. Scott's advice was this is one of those major things that we have to learn to resolve, and then let go. I totally agree. I've apologized for the cheating accusation, but he's still bringing it up. I, on the other hand, have not ever received an apology for the BJ comment. Probably never will. He genuinely sees nothing wrong with what he said.

Garrett also told Scott I accused him of beating his wife. I told Scott this is another example of the way HE is actually twisting MY words. I never accused him of beating his wife. I don't think he ever did. I did, however, accuse him of abusing her – because physical violence is not a requirement for abuse. I told him I started to notice similarities between stories he told me about her, and what he was doing to me. I told him about a similar shoving incident that Garrett had told me about early in our relationship. From what I understand, they were arguing and he was trying to leave the house through the front door. She stood in front of the door to stop him from opening it. He forced it open, and in doing so shoved her into a wall. I said after things started to escalate with me – following me around, blocking doorways, forcing doors open, and then the shoving incident – I started to question some of the things he told me about his wife. I know there's two sides to every story, and I started to wonder what her side was. Scott repeated Garrett's version of our shoving incident. I don't remember exactly what he said and I didn't write it down, but it was VERY different from my recollection. He said he was trying to leave and I wouldn't let him go. Something about him trying to get out the front door, me running past him, him grabbing my shirt me turning around to face him, and him shoving me? In hindsight, this version sounds even more similar to the incident with his wife. I told Scott I don't remember shirt grabbing. Maybe I grabbed his shirt which is why he turned around and shoved me? I explained the distance between the couch (where my glasses landed) and the door he was trying to get to. Garrett denied having his hand on my throat. Said it was on my chest. I told Scott the difference is about 1 inch. He wasn't trying to strangle me. I specified hand placement to make it clear he had both hands on me, so he can't try to claim he accidentally bumped into me. I told him my right shoulder was sore the next morning. He asked if Garrett hit me, I told him no. He asked how my glasses flew off my face. I told him I honestly don't know. But Garrett also confirmed my glasses flew off my face. I told Scott it doesn't really matter which version is the most accurate – it is NEVER okay to put your hands on me and shove me! Scott asked if there's anything Garrett could have done differently. At first I said I couldn't think of anything. And then I remembered the back door, which is between the couch and the small hallway to the garage door. I told him I was to Garrett's right and that door was to his left. He could have easily turned left – away from me – and out that door. (Instead he turned to his right and shoved me).

Scott noted some of Garrett's issues seem to be stemming from past trauma in relationships and asked if that might be the same for me. I told him my ex husband was abusive, mostly verbally and emotionally. I told him about the yelling and slamming doors, punching holes in walls, breaking things, throwing things at me, etc. I told him how the two are similar and how they are different. I told him how it took probably 10 years to retrain my body to not physically jump at the sound of a man shouting. Some questions I couldn't answer – I explained that a lot of that time period has been mentally blocked from memory. I don't remember exactly the question he asked next, something about was there ever a turning point for me or something? I told him I promised myself I would never allow myself to be the victim again. With Paul I was so weak. I didn't fight back – I would just cower and cry. I swore to myself I would never be that person again. So when it started to happen with Garrett I was in denial. At the beginning I reacted the same way – I cowered and cried. I became so ashamed of myself for letting it happen again. So I stood up, I started fighting back. I'm guessing that change from crying to fighting back happened some time last fall. I didn't tell him about the rapes. Not yet.

We ran out of time and my session ended. Scott ended by reminding me to take time outs and pray about past trauma – work on remembering things to work through. Garrett's session was next. I figured it wouldn't go well, since I revealed more sensitive topics. I pretty much expected Garrett to no-show for dinner, but I cooked anyway. I was half surprised when he showed up. One of the first things he said, almost jokingly, was “I can't believe you told Scott about the BJ conversation.” I told him it was the main reason I started to question whether he was cheating. He dropped it until we were done eating. Sitting in the living room and he starts up again. “Emily, you're not a bad person. Neither am I.” The conversation managed to stay civil for a while, but I could see him getting worked up. Got up to leave several times. Got more worked up. He is VERY angry that I told Scott about the blowjob conversation. Started scrolling through old text conversations to find that one. I told him it's really not healthy to go back and read all of those old, hurtful words. Made it to the kitchen and walked toward the door several more times. Opened the door and stood in front of it for a while. I put my hand on the door to close it after him and he shifted, as if to block the door from closing. So I waited. Then he walked back into the kitchen. I asked why he was walking back into my house? He said something about not wanting to be “accused of that too” and left. Conversation continued via text for several hours. Continued to accuse me of lying to Scott. Refuses to see how that comment could mess with my head so severely. Several times I challenged him to name one think I could have said or done that would have prevented him from walking out again. He never gave me a direct response. At one point he told me some things NOT to to, but never once told me a single thing that would have kept him from doing what he always does. After several more rounds about the BJ comment and how it made me feel, I told him “And no. You have not been entirely faithful. But that's okay. It's neither here nor there now, it is?” This is followed by several denials of being unfaithful, accusations of mind games, and accusations of ME being unfaithful. That earned me a “you bitch!” And called a liar. I'm getting so desensitized to some of these insults I barely notice some of them any more.

He also refuses to return my ring. Demanded his back. Got it. Now refuses to give me mine back. I'm sure he intends to sell or return both and pocket the money. He told me he would pay me back for July's rent. That never happened. Told me he would pay me for the Chewy order that he threw out. Didn't happen either. A while back he said he would sell the snowmobile and send me the money. Yup, you guessed it! Didn't happen. His response? “I owe you nothing” and “take me to court.” An hour and a half later he admitted to reaching out to Tina “last October” after I left. I reminded him I didn't leave in October. I left days before my birthday in late November. I asked why. “You left, blocked me, left your ring with a note saying your done. I reached out because I wanted someone to talk to. I had no one. It was an innocent conversation that went no where.” I pointed out if it was innocent, why hide it from me? If it was so innocent, why not come clean about it? He diverted by accusing me of reaching out to her. “If you were the person you claim to be, we wouldn't fight.” So there it is, the fights are entirely my fault. Accused me of communicating with Jeremy. I informed him Jeremy has been blocked since the beginning of covid. Out of respect for HIM. Claimed he doesn't have Tina's contact information. Claims he deleted it after he reached out to her. Then tried to change the conversation to Madeline.

This morning it continued. Attacking my parenting, etc. It just never ends.

He called me this afternoon to apologize. Said he understands how I feel and why I feel that way about him reaching out to Tina. I thanked him for the apology. Apologized again for accusing him of cheating. Told him I thought I extended that apology a long time ago, but he continues to bring it up.

We didn't really fight. I wouldn't say he lost his temper. Not yet. It was early on. REALLY early on. We had been seeing each other for maybe 5-6 weeks. Our first date was, I believe the weekend after Thanksgiving. We spent Christmas together. New Year's day he flew out to Wisconsin to see Zach. Somehow I got roped into dog-sitting for him. He had just adopted a super lovable but also very hyper 4 month old pit bull puppy. Unfortunately, she was not properly house trained. So she had “accidents” on my carpet several times. And she was teething. Chewed up a couple pairs of shoes, my baseboard, and a few other things I don't remember. At first I didn't say anything. We were still in what should have been the honeymoon phase of our relationship. But after several days and my favorite pair of flip flops, I needed to let him know. I was very careful not to complain or get angry. I simply mentioned that she chewed my favorite pair of flip flops and pooped on the carpet. Next thing I knew he was borderline yelling. I don't even remember what he said. Just out of the blue, BAM! My initial reaction was shock. And then confusion. What? Why? Where did this come from? What is even going on?! He then interrogated me about every item she destroyed and every single time she messed on the carpet. Promised to pay me back for the damaged items. That never happened. By the time he returned to Tucson he decided to get rid of her. I begged him not to. It's not her fault. She's just a puppy. It's not fair to her. Pets are family, I told him. You don't just adopt them and turn around and rehome them. I still feel awful for her! She was such a sweet girl.

That confusion I experienced lasted for maybe half a dozen more episodes before I learned that's just how he is. That's when the fear started. I started speaking very cautiously, trying not to offend him. If something came up, I started obsessing about whether I should tell him, how, and how he would react. I stopped speaking up when something bothered me. I went along with everything he said, desperately trying to avoid confrontation. He started coming and going as he pleased. He started leaving trash on the counters, peeing on toilet seats, or not cleaning up his messes. He pretty much moved in without a discussion. I said nothing. He started questioning when I would be home from work. If I needed to stay a little late, or stop somewhere on my way, I was expected to report back and give him a time.

One day I was invited to happy hour with a couple girls I work with. I left before everyone else because he was getting anxious and asking when I would be back. On the drive home he called me. He had himself all worked up. Started up with the passive-aggressive “I've been waiting to have dinner with you” and “it's fine, I'll just go back to the trailer since you're too busy for me.” I'm not even sure why he was at my house in the first place. I told him what I was doing. I assumed he would get the hint and hang out at the campground. We could meet up later either at the campground or my place. Madeline was home, but perfectly fine on her own. Actually, it's kind of strange that he went to the house when I wasn't there. Later it came out that his expects Friday nights to be spent with family. Was just blown away that I don't have the same tradition. Why would I? I've never heard of that. Must be a Wisconsin thing. It ended up being a huge fight.

Another time, shortly after the happy hour incident, he had gotten mad at me the night before for something. We slept, got up, started getting ready for work. I assumed it had blown over – why wouldn't it? Whatever it was wasn't even a big deal, and I've never been one to carry an argument or bad mood into the next day. Well, he does. That “never go to bed angry” thing doesn't apply to him. I had just gotten out of the shower and was putting on a towel when he opened the door. I gave him a look and said “can I help you?” attempting to flirt. Well, apparently, I suck at flirting because he flipped! “You know what Emily!” ... and just went off. Whoa! What's going on?! What are you so angry about? Why are you doing this?

Easily offended and short-tempered. He got offended when I told him he's impulsive. I meant nothing of it, I was teasing him about how he'll just do things, like wake up and decide to adopt a dog, or buy a 5th wheel and move to Tucson for a job. But he took offense.