Canada –Nearing the end The next 12 months
He was struggling with work. He would get up every day and go in, being the manager, his authority issues subsided a little. He still had the area manager to report to, but it’s a small store in a small city, so he was left alone a lot. However, the company requires that its management staff attend regular meetings. Sometimes they were only a day, sometimes they were three days. He never attended. His anxiety of long drives and his depression became his shield. He would take days off to be “sick” to avoid going.
These were the days he would go out of his way to put me down and make me feel less than worthless. I would make dinner and be told that he hated it before even trying it, or I would get asked “how long have we been together? And you still don’t know I hate this? Are you fucking stupid?” and it could be something as simple as spaghetti on toast (Which he would always eat at his mother's) or he would say something and if I didn’t hear him, he would shout comments like “you deaf cow, fucking listen to me” or “why don’t you pay attention when I’m talking to you?” and “If you think you have a hearing problem, deal with it yourself, do not make me repeat myself over and over” Thing is, a lot of the time I couldn’t hear him because his back was to me as he is laying on the floor playing video games, or playing music really loudly and he would mutter or mumble. Almost felt like it was deliberate just so he could yell at me. I would say something; tell him that if he turned down the music, or turned to face me, then there would be no problem. However, that would lead to a big fight and it ended with me feeling even worse and that he was right when he said “it’s your fault I’m shouting and getting upset with you” of course it was. Everything was my fault.
At other times, I would get snide comments, something about the way I looked, or the way I did something. We could be having a conversation about anything at all, and I would be accused of starting a fight and arguing with him when we were agreeing on the same subject. The comment “one of these days you will listen to me and I will be so fucking surprised” was said. There would be bile in the words and a look of disgust all over his face. What had I done? I was agreeing with him, and it turned into a fight and then I was the most disgusting, disappointing creature on the face of the planet in his eyes. And these things happened daily. Eventually, work didn’t need to be a reason to put me down, just breathing and being in the same room as him was enough of a reason.
There was also no love in the house either. He would get so excited to see his girlfriends that he couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I would get a kiss in the beginning, but that was it. Yes, we had to work out some bugs in the Poly department, how often should we stay in contact with each other, house rules, etc. but that was never the issue.
When we were both home at the same time, which was usually during the week, I would have to ask him to cuddle me in bed. I would have to initiate a kiss or anything else. He would lay there, huffing because he had to put his iPad down, and his arms would lay by his side. I would curl into him and get nothing. We did occasionally have some moments, but it was more about him getting me to give him release than anything else between us. I stopped getting that release from him altogether. Then the comments started in regards to that as well. He walked into the bedroom once to find me pleasuring myself. He simply looked at me and said “when you’re done, make me a sandwich” and closed the door. Other times I would invite him to join in and I was told “I really don’t want to. Just go do it yourself” I found I was apologizing for taking some me time. Slowly I stopped doing that as well.
If I tried to talk to him about sex and if we could or not, he would just blame his medication. He would say that it was preventing him from being able to. And then twenty minutes later I had aroused him and made him finish using my hand. That seemed to be all that he wanted. The idea of having sex was me seemed to disgust him.
Slowly we stopped talking to each other. I would fall asleep on the sofa or be playing games on my phone. He would be on the computer or watching TV and we didn’t speak. If we did, it was small talk. Anything to avoid a fight. I would still go to see my boyfriend at the weekends, it was the only time I could feel loved and wanted. And safe. I dreaded the drive home. When I got home I would be greeted with more shouting and put-downs, about how I was never there to look after him, how I was selfish to want free time and time to myself. How he had to order pizza cause there was no dinner cooked for him. The best one once was “My date and I had a great time, but then I came home and you were not there so I could tell you how much better than you they are”
One day I snapped. This was in April. He was shouting at me about the same old things and I lost it. I was tired of being put down, made to feel like I was less than the crap on the bottom of his shoe. I shouted back. I told him everything and made a point of stating that these are all things I have said to him before, but he hadn’t listened. I told him how he made me feel, how unhappy I was, how pathetic I felt. I remember he laughed at me at one point and told me I was stupid and that it was all in my head, that I was imagining it all. I collected the dog, and overnight bag and I left. I was done. I couldn’t and wouldn’t take it anymore. I drove to my mother’s house and spent the weekend there. By the end of the weekend, and texts from him, I went back to talk. He said all the right things, apologized, talked about having kids, and following our dreams. So I stayed. The first week was great. Things seemed to improve. There was a genuine effort being made, more by him, but that was what I needed. We still didn’t have sex, but I wanted to work on everything else first. By the second week, things were going back to normal. The silence and the lack of affection, the comments, and the unwillingness to help in the house. This has been another factor, I was happy to be the housewife, but as I worked too I wanted some help. He would complain and huff if I asked him to help. And then he would yell at me saying he would do things in his own time, not mine. Months could go by and he still hadn’t done what I had asked. But then if I go ahead and do it a few days later, I would be yelled at for doing it. I’m sorry if the garbage needed to go out for collection and couldn’t wait any longer……….
It was about two months later another fight took place. All the same issues and all the same concerns and I left again. I was away for a bit longer this time. But again, I went back, having been talked into it, with the same promises. Only this time there were comments like “I never thought I would get married, it would have to take someone really special, and that was you.” He was very good at manipulation. Again, the family and having children were brought up (by him) but that was another false promise. This time things lasted two weeks. I had made it a condition of my return that things would have to be continually improving and he had a month to show me he could change, if not, then that was it. If he could, then I would give him another month and essentially review things month by month. I was also becoming close to a mutual friend of ours. She was going through some issues of her own, so we would talk to each other and help each other. After a week or so, this was a problem for him. I didn’t need to see her twice a week, why was she my friend anyway? What had she done for me? (he had said this about another friend, and I stopped seeing her) he would complain and make me feel like crap for going out and then worse when I came home. This was not improving, but rather, it was getting worse. I ended up feeling like a prisoner in my own home. I almost felt like apologizing for having a social life and friends. Something he didn’t have.
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