Tag: marriage

9. What is best

I spoke to a lawyer on base about my divorce situation. I asked him generally what happens to the kids in a military divorce. He said that they usually go with the non-military parent for deployment purposes and what not. We weren’t wanting to go to battle though. My husband and I were on mutual agreement that it just wasn’t working out.

We even tried to explore other avenues. I guess it was me more so than him. He knew that I was looking in other places for people, and he was too, more so on the internet. There was a girl that I was really interested in. The only woman I have ever met that I could have dated. I just don’t see girls in a relationship. I can have sex, but I’m just not emotionally compatible with a woman. But this girl, there was something special about her.

My husband encouraged me to go after her, and I tried, but it was a big complicated situation that caused way too much drama. My husband and I were still having a good relationship, but more like a friendship and we happened to have kids together. We were still having sex, but it was more out of comfort than a need for each other.

Looking back, I can say that I definitely shouldn’t have handled it the way I did. I had a feeling that he had slept with someone, but he told me he didn’t. I was completely honest with him about what I was doing. So I guess you can argue that I cheated on my husband, but he knew. We had decided it was okay, even though we hadn’t physically filed for divorce.

Turns out, because of a government shutdown, my husband could not crosstrain and had to get out of the military at the end of his enlistment that year. So he would be returning to his home of record. I had said to him that instead of me taking the kids, I would move to his state, which I’d never been in, so long as he would help me get on my feet. This way, I didn’t feel like a monster who took her kids’ father away. This is what was best for my children. It wasn’t their fault we didn’t want to be married.

He suggested once that he take our son and I take our daughter. I told him absolutely not. I would not split my children. For one, they have a huge bond to each other. Secondly, how the fuck would my son feel knowing his mom only took his sister? And vice versa? Hell the fuck no. I would not do that to them.

So come November 2013, we packed up our family and moved from Japan to Oklahoma. We had to stay with his family, whom I had never met. He always hated his mom his whole life. He said she was a bipolar psycho. She was abusive and that was the reason he moved out so young.

When I met her, she seemed nice enough. She loved the kids, and did shots with me like the first night I was there. We even took my daughter and went shopping with her, while my husband took our son and his dad. She asked me about us getting a divorce and asked if there was any chance of it working out. I told her about Hannah. She remembered Hannah. She absolutely hated her. Something we had in common. One of the few.

Things were okay. We celebrated Thanksgiving with my husband’s family. I was struggling a bit, being as I was trying to parent my children in someone else’s house. My daughter was not sleeping well in her pack and play, so she was screaming a lot during the night. I could tell his parents were irritated, but there wasn’t much I could do. They didn’t offer to help or anything, not that I necessarily needed it. She was just a tough baby.

My mother had a heart attack and I had no way to contact her. My husband was off buying himself a phone, but didn’t think of me at all. He suddenly decided that he didn’t have to pay for me anymore. His parents got him a good deal on a vehicle and helped him get a job. I, on the other hand, had applied to a nearby place, but didn’t get the job.

I was growing more and more stressed with the living situation. I was used to it just being me, my husband, and my children. I could tell his mother was critiquing my parenting and it was pissing me the fuck off. She started limiting how much juice my son had and when he could have a snack. That made me angry, but she was paying for it, so what could I do.

I had to use the house phone to call my mother and check up on her. She had her second heart attack and I was worried for her. So much, that I was crying a lot. I didn’t want to be in Oklahoma. I wanted to go home. I was uncomfortable in someone else’s house and it was becoming awkward. I started noticing all of things my husband said he hated about his mom. She was the biggest control freak I had ever met. I watched my husband give in to her every request, just so she would shut up.

6. Max

I’m going to keep this story as brief as possible. There’s a 700 page book I wrote dedicated to Max. Max was my first love. I fell in love with him in high school. I was the Christian girl and he was the emo kid with eyeliner and the Blink 182 shirt. Every interest I ever had in music, guys, and pandas came from Max. He was the only guy I had ever cared about more than myself. We were friends first and we’d only ever kissed once. And when it looked like we were going to be in a relationship, he’d decided to go back to his ex. Looking back, it was not that big of a deal. But at the time, it was catastrophic. I had given my whole heart to this guy emotionally, and when he broke it, I was shattered. That was the first bout of depression I had ever come across. That was the first instance that launched my addiction to self-harm. I had cut letters into my ankle. I was distraught. To help me learn and mend, I wrote a book about my life in high school right up until I joined the Air Force.

Eventually, Max and I came to a resolution and it was fine. We talked every once in a while, but nothing substantial. My husband knew how much I had loved Max. But in the book I wrote, I came to the conclusion that I had to stop dreaming about him. He was never going to tell me he loved me, he didn’t want me. Max was a dream, and a far-fetched one at that.

Or so I thought. When I was neglected by my husband, Max and I started talking. We hadn’t talked in quite a while, but he still did something to my heart, four years after the fact. The thing about Max, was that he was the most unique person I had ever met. I have never met a soul like him. He talked in riddles and metaphors. There was something dark and mysterious about him and it was so easy for him to reel me in.

Max and I started skyping while my husband would be at work. Our conversations were light hearted and enjoyable, but still, I shouldn’t have been talking to him without my husband knowing. I just needed some attention. Doesn’t make it right though, I know. He’d call my son “Little Max” even though he knew that wasn’t his name. Then he did it. All of the convincing I had told myself, and this motherfucker ruined it.

“A part of me wants to tell you, but I feel bad because of your life now.”

“Tell me what?”

“Idk. Everything. If I had a chance to be in your life now, I would be there in a heartbeat.”

FUCK. And it all came back. And then of course, my dumbass had to ask.

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever stopped. I’ve buried it at times.”

Everything. Everything I told myself for years. He never loved me. He didn’t want me. It was all a lie. He’s always loved me. The way I loved him. And this motherfucker decided to tell me after I was married and had a child. WHY THE FUCK–goddamit men. So fucking stupid. I can’t.

My heart had opened right up to him. I was so confused. I had literally built a wall around my feelings for him and with one sentence, it crumbled. What was I to do now?

Max and I talked for a few more days, before I finally told my husband. I had to be honest. I couldn’t hide it. I owed him the truth. Of course, when I did, he was angry as fuck. So angry, he punched the wall next to my head. Scared the shit out of me. He made me feel like such a piece of shit. I felt horrible. How could I, as a wife and a mother, consider taking my child away from his dad to chase after a high school love? I couldn’t. It was selfish. Max was my missed connection, one that I would miss for life.

My husband was so pissed at me for days, but I had decided to tell both him and Max that I made a commitment to my marriage. This was my life now. This was the life I chose. My son came first. Max understood, but mending things with my husband, that was going to be difficult. I had talked to my mother about the situation and she told me to take a breather. She asked me a series of questions, and I told her I just wasn’t feeling valued by my husband. I told her we weren’t having sex. She stopped and asked me if I thought he was cheating. I was like, no way. He wouldn’t sacrifice his family for it.

OR SO I HAD FUCKING THOUGHT.

Mom’s little question floated around in my brain. It had been a while since I checked his shit. The last conversation we had about anything remotely like that was four months prior, when I went into labor.

So out of sheer curiosity, I opened up his Yahoo! account. Apparently the idiot forgot I knew the password. And what did I find? Sure enough, the bitch that he had been exchanging pics with before I got married, Hannah, was in there.

And there was a lot of messages from the the previous month. They talked about me, about Adam, and about wanting to have sex with each other. And I’m not talking simply, like explicitly. Apparently, when he was doing his “shift” with our son, and I was sleeping, he was messaging and calling her. He would tell her how much he loved her.

I was shattered. And then I was livid. Here I was, telling him I had feelings for someone and BEING FUCKING HONEST, he was lying and doing this shit. I was done.

So I did what I do every time I find out about this kind of shit. I made myself look gorgeous, did my makeup and waited for my husband to wake up. And he did, while I was doing my makeup.

“Baby, will you get me something to drink?”

I smiled sweetly. “Of course.” I walked into the kitchen, got him some orange juice, and gave it to him. He looked at me. “You look pretty. I love you.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“What do you mean okay?”

I took the screenshots I had printed out. I threw them at him. “Wanna tell me what the fuck this is?”

Why is it that all men when they know they’ve been busted, evidence and all, act like you’re out of your mind?

He looked at it and acted confused. “I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s all your fucking messages with Hannah.”

He tried to make excuses, but he knew his ass was grass. I laid into him. I yelled at him for treating me like shit, making me seem like I was a horrible spouse, and betraying me again. I told him I wanted a divorce. I told him that I had said if he ever did this shit while we were married, it would be the end. And here we are. I told him I was taking Adam and I wanted him to suffer.

I also messaged Hannah on Facebook and told her she was a homewrecking whore and I hope she was happy that he was going to lose his family. Also, I told her that he said she meant nothing to him and was like porn. Which, is what he told me. He told me he didn’t love her and it was a mistake.

For some reason, this offended her. So much, in fact, that she gave me her Facebook password with the promise from me that I would not post anything on her profile publicly. I didn’t need to do that. I had more class than that.

But when I read through her messages between her and my husband, I was completely and utterly appalled. He had told me it only happened for that week of messages I found in the Yahoo! Turns out, they had been messaging since that night I was suspicious. The night that I went into fucking labor for our child. This motherfucker lied straight to my face. Four fucking months worth of the most sickening shit I had ever read in my life. All of the things he did nice for me during that time was wiped completely out. I hated him. I hated him. I fucking hated him. They talked about how when he’d visit back home, he’d make up a story about “hanging out with the guys” and leave me with Adam, and then going to go fuck her. These messages guys, they were so detailed. I swear to God, I had a vivid picture of what this girls pussy looked, tasted, and smelled like by the end of these messages.

I couldn’t fucking believe it. HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING STUPID. WHY THE FUCK DID I MARRY HIM? WHY THE FUCK DID I HAVE KIDS WITH HIM. I WAS GOING TO MURDER HIM.

I was so angry and I ripped him a new one. I screamed that he was a liar. Thankfully, my son slept pretty well, so he didn’t hear me yelling. My husband didn’t know what to do with himself, except beg for my forgiveness. And I wouldn’t give it. I was done. Fuck him. I was taking my son and going for Max. Fuck this. FUCK THIS MOTHERFUCKER. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

I bawled and bawled. I hated him. So much.Three days later, I told my Mom everything. I was making wild decisions and she had to tell me to calm my shit. Then she asked another detrimental question, damn her.

“When was your last period?” She thought maybe I had been overreacting and losing my shit because of PMS, which has been known to happen. I sat down and thought about it. I had one period after I gave birth, but I couldn’t remember my second. Then it dawned on me. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. NO.

 

5. The best and the worst

Being a mom was unlike anything I had ever experienced. My own tiny human, that I and the man I loved created. Having a child is the most intimate experience you can have with someone you love. They talked about soul ties when you have sex with someone, but holy shit the soul ties when you have a child with someone. Looking at the beautiful little one that was half me and half my husband, I’d never experienced a love like this. I’ve never loved anyone to the degree that I did my own child.

It was a little difficult, I won’t lie. I didn’t have a clue what the fuck I was doing. There were nights where I’d bawl my eyes out because my son wouldn’t stop crying. I fed him, changed him, loved on him, and did everything I could think of. I finally just collapsed in front of the crib and bawled my eyes out. At that point, I called my mother crying. She told me to relax, take a break, and let him cry for about 15 minutes. She told me to just shut his door, go into the living room and listen to some music.

When I re-entered the room, he had gone quiet. He was happy. I picked him up and snuggled him. And we were happy. I wanted everything in the world for him. I couldn’t even go shopping and not get him something. I wanted to give him as much as I could.

My son loved his daddy, even if he spent most of the time with Mommy. My husband loved our son. He wasn’t fond of changing diapers, but what person isn’t? Something I had also noticed is that he only wanted to do the fun stuff. When it came to feeding, changing, or bathing, he’d rarely do it. That was annoying. But we were being taken care of. I got to spend every day of my life with my child, and if that isn’t the biggest blessing in the world, I don’t know what is.

The child took up a lot of my time and energy, and I have to say, my marriage made sacrifices. We had decided early on before he was sleeping through the night to take “shifts.” I’d sleep from 10pm to 4am and he would take care of the baby. Obviously he wasn’t up all night, but if he woke up, I would still get continuous sleep. Then I would get up at 4am and my husband would go to sleep. This is before he would go back to work.

The night I went into labor, I noticed my husband being a little shady with his computer. We had been doing so good, please oh God don’t let him be fucking it up right now. I expressed my concerns, but he quickly dismissed them. He looked at me straight in the eye and said, “I will never do that again. You can read whatever you want.” The thing about my husband is, when asked, he always tells the truth. He’ll omit like his life depends on it, but he never lied to me when I straight up asked him. However, whenever I had these feelings, I was always right. But, I just kinda stood there, and was like, “Wait, I’m wrong?” That’s weird. But I let it go, after all, I started having contractions that night.

Things were becoming distant with my husband. When I was not taking care of our little one, I did my best to try to give my husband what he needed. I’d dress up in lingerie for him, but he did not seem interested. I tried to make the effort, but he didn’t want it. Talk about insecurity for a woman who just had a baby. I remained relatively small throughout my pregnancy, up until the last month. But I had a bazillion stretch marks all over my tummy and I was not too thrilled.

I didn’t feel pretty, and the lack of interest from the man I married did not help. I felt defeated. So I let him play his video games and retreated to my room. See, this is the point where we should have talked, expressed our feelings, and tried to come to some sort of reconciliation. But no, both of us remained silent.

When you are not doing your duties as a spouse, people start looking elsewhere. It’s not right or justified, but it does happen. My “elsewhere” came in the form of my high school love. We’ll call him Max.