Spousal Violence Untold, My Story
© Anand Vishnu Prakash, YourStoryClub.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface/Dedication
Chapter One: The Beginning
Chapter Two: The First Divorce
Chapter Three: Getting Hitched ‘Again’
Chapter Four: The Formative Years
Chapter Five: Moved Again
Chapter Six: It’s Finally Over
Chapter Seven: I Lit A Match
Chapter Eight: Cyberlife of the lifeless
Chapter Nine: Case # ________________
Chapter Ten: Illusions
The names and locations have been changed to protect the guilty.
PREFACE:
This short book style story was written to help me heal from an abusive marriage. Toxic as it was, not all of it was bad. But it took me a long time to realize that when it’s bad, it won’t get better…not this kind of bad. I had a controlling, arrogant, narcissistic abuser for a husband and in every sense of the word “abuse” he did just that. There are many levels of abuse other than just physical and mental… there is also financial, emotional, and verbal abuse.
Webster’s Dictionary defines abuse as:
verb
treat (a person or an animal) with cruelty or violence, esp. regularly or repeatedly.
“riders who abuse their horses should be prosecuted”
noun
cruel and violent treatment of a person or animal.
“a black eye and other signs of physical abuse”
Abuse is so much more than mere words or punches. The kind of abuse suffered in domestic situations is mind numbing, all consuming, heart wrenching pain. Unless you have felt this kind of pain, you won’t fully understand it.
I am hoping through this book to help even ONE person realize they are worth more than they are being given and accepting. I expect no sympathy, only empathy… I was given abuse and was conditioned to lap it up like newborn kittens lap milk…begging for any scrap of attention that might be thrown my way, all the while told I ‘made him do it’.
Thankfully I learned my lesson before too much physical damage was done but the emotional toll it took on me lasts to this very day.
I hope you enjoy the read.
CHAPTER ONE
The Beginning
He was literally everything I did not want in a guy. He had long hair, occasionally wore eyeliner and listened to heavy metal music. I was a quiet girl, time spent either working or at home and all into Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul. Not much of a social butterfly.
We met through relatives. He actually dated my cousin before me. There were lots of interactions during family get-togethers, holidays, etc. Many hours he spent playing video games with my mother and all of us, cousins – aunts – uncles, just spending family time together. I remember impromptu volleyball games in the front yard, birthday scavenger hunts and just ordinary Saturdays where everyone sort of just ended up at our house. We were friendly but nothing I’d call close.
He went away to basic training for the National Guard. I can’t speak as to what went wrong in his relationship with my cousin, Lord knows he had a way with telling stories… suffice it to say they broke up before he got back from training. For brevity sake, we will just say my mother made mention to him that she wished she had a son-in-law like him some day. One thing led to another and he showed up at my work asking me out. I will never forget that feeling. Pure fear, he was after all, everything I didn’t want, but moreover I think a part of me knew even back then it wasn’t a good idea. As far as the dating thing goes… we didn’t really do the conventional out to eat, movies, etc. After all, we knew each other – or so I thought.
Just a few short months into ‘dating’ we decided it was time to get married. We set a date of Valentine’s Day 1991. I stated already that I was a quiet girl, but quiet doesn’t actually cover it. I was, in fact, a 21 year old virgin. My parents instilled in me early some core values and that is one of them. No sex before marriage. While I no longer hold to this belief for reasons that will become obvious, at the time it was very important to me.
He was not used to ‘waiting’ and we decided to move our wedding up to September 1, 1990. There was much hustling and bustling to get this wedding going. My cousin’s husband and other family built a beautiful gazebo in my parent’s front yard. My mom sewed away on a dress for me. Grandmother sewed the matron of honor’s dress, a true family affair. So it was all wedding in the front, BBQ in the back. A few words from the Justice of the Peace and we were legally married.
If memory serves, as I have long since gotten rid of any actual ‘evidence’, there were less than 40 people total at the wedding. His mom and step-dad did not bother to drive the 7 minutes cross town because I wasn’t good enough for him. He and his mom had a very different relationship than most sons and mothers. I could live forever and still never understand the hold that woman had on him. Looking back, I should have known that the insane acorn wouldn’t fall far from the crazy tree. Hindsight is 20/20 and I needed some serious glasses back in the day.
And so our life together began. He and I were both starting new jobs after Labor Day so we took a quickie 3 day honeymoon and then back home… okay, back to my mom and dad’s home. My dad gave us the back bedroom, which was bigger and also had a door so we could come and go as we pleased. Like I said… hindsight… I was so blinded (deaf and dumb) by love that I didn’t care that we had to live with my mom and dad. Truth be told, I think some are more in love with the idea of being in love. I think I was one of those girls. I had my heart broken before and all I wanted was someone to love me. I was a true narcissist’s dream girl.
One night he told me he had to help his step brother work on his car. I wasn’t welcome because it was at his mom’s house. So I stayed home with my parents and went to bed early. He woke me up about 4 a.m., coming in getting into bed. I said nothing and snuggled away. Later after I got up I decided to get him some cigarettes because I could see his pack was empty. I went to get some cash from his pocket and what was in there? His wedding ring! I decided I would still go get the cigarettes because surely he had an explanation. I get into the car and there was an empty bottle of Crown on the seat. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t drink and darn sure don’t drink and drive. I took it inside and literally threw it on to his chest. It was ice cold so he woke up quickly. We fought about why he stayed out drinking, why his wedding ring was in his pocket and how he had not one tiny speck of oil or dirt on him or his clothes. I called a friend and she came and picked me up. We went to her house and after some long talking… she made me see it wasn’t so bad that he wanted some time to himself or to hang out with his brother. We were both young and he wasn’t used to being tied down. So I dried my tears and she drove me home. I went back to our room and my heart sank. GONE. Everything he owned was gone. I was with my friend less than 2 hours and he managed to take it all. Immediately I called his mom and to her credit she was pleasant stating simply that he did not want to talk to me right now and to give him some space.
For days I was sick, heart sick. I didn’t eat, I didn’t go to work, I cried non-stop. I even remember throwing a sandwich at one of my relatives who was trying desperately to help me. At the time I didn’t care if I lived or died. I was devastated and truly heartbroken. I remember asking my mom why men only wanted to hurt me. You see, this wasn’t my first heartache and wouldn’t be my last. I had been engaged before only to have my fiancé call it off eight short days before the wedding… but he was supposed to be different! We took vows. He promised to never hurt me.
LIES, ALL LIES.
CHAPTER TWO
The First Divorce
After a few weeks I decided it was a terrible mistake and I started divorce proceedings. I filed papers and had him served. Looking back, it would have saved much money and heartache if I’d just stayed the course. But as fate would have it, suddenly he became interested in contacting me again. He showed his first stalker mannerisms way back then but I was too young and stupid to catch on. He would show up at my work and walk through the store. Never making more than eye contact, just enough to let me know he was there. I would be driving to work and pass him in traffic but not just pass, no, there was always a way he made sure I saw him. Meanwhile, the bills piled up and I emptied our joint account to pay on them. I opened my own account and had my checks deposited there. He beat on my parent’s front door one morning demanding his money to which I replied that I used it to pay bills. He stormed off.
I was invited to a New Year’s Eve party and decided it would be good to get out of the house. I went. It was basically just hanging out with friends and relatives. Someone suggested we go dancing and drinking. I stated before I’m not a drinker and I’m even less of a dancer. I kid you not, 3 left feet over here. So I bowed out and decided to head home. I got home and was headed to the front door when something caught my eye. It was a small handful of pictures. The same pictures from our wedding that I had graciously given his mother who couldn’t be bothered to attend. Each and every picture of us had been defiled. Black markers were used to draw a penis in my mouth in each photo. Not exactly a great start to a new year.
I continued working at the pharmacy and it was back to my old routine. Home and work, home and work. I let my boss know about everything happening and asked that my husband not be allowed in the store. As luck would have it just a few short days later in he walks. My boss saw him, went directly over and asked him to leave. He just laughed in his face and then walked out. I don’t know how many signs I ignored, but there were surely dozens.
He called one day out of the blue saying his mom kicked him out and he’d been living in an abandoned duplex on crackers and water. Mind you, I don’t know if the crackers and water story was true but it was true that his mother finally got tired of his wanting to do what he wanted when he wanted and she did in fact, kick him out. He asked if we could meet. I went and met with him and once again his charming side just oozed everywhere and I brought him home. My mother was easy enough to convince, but daddy… um NO. Finally he agreed he could move back in but there would be no sleeping together under his roof. I went ahead with the divorce, it was paid for, just needed the judge’s signature. He was actually asleep on my mom’s couch when I went to court. It was done.
We continued with the way things were for a while. We would sneak off to hotels on the weekends to have sex, always abiding by my daddy’s rules. Again, I no longer hold to that ideal and would actually encourage young people to test each other out, even live together first as long as they did it responsibly and with birth control. Looking back now, living together would have been a hell of a better idea than the literal hell I went through. He always had a short temper but managed to hide it pretty well around everyone but me. He was quite skilled at it.
Only occasionally did anyone notice, at least that is what I deluded myself into believing at the time. As it turns out, more people than I ever knew had figured him out, long before I did. It’s almost like rewinding a movie in my head. I can see the way certain people treated him now and totally understand it, but then it was ‘my husband’ and I licked up every word he uttered.
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