We were in the evangelical christian church. I wanted to please my husband and god. I had been taught since I was little that god would not reward me if I didn't please him. And here on earth, I would be rewarded with health if I turned the other cheek, submitted myself like Sara did to Abram and called him lord, etc.
After I begged and pleaded to come back (and gave him amazing sex before being allowed to see the kids) we decided to move so that we would be closer to my parents. I wanted the kids to see their grandparents, and I wanted to have a bit of community around me so that I wouldn't get so depressed any more. Remember, in my mind, I was still the problem. Not my marriage, not my abusive husband, ME. So we moved. I packed the whole house by myself, with four kids under five in tow. My ex was so stressed out about moving that his spare time was spent sleeping or watching movies. I was so excited about being closer to my family that I didn't mind. Once moved, my ex began a campaign to alienate me from my family. My mom would buy me something, or do something special for me and my ex would use it. He would yell at me after my mom left, telling me what a bitch she was for buying cheese for me. I was underweight and never ate very well because I was taking care of my kids. So my mom was trying to take care of me how she could. My ex would eat all the cheese or whatever it was that my mom had bought for me. We couldn't afford to buy more so I would once again do without. Eventually the fighting with my parents was too much for me to bear. The conflict wasn't worth being close to them. It is so sad for me to see now that this would have been my way out! I was just so determined to make my marriage work. This time I wouldn't give up, my kids would have a happy mom and a happy life and I would make their dad happy too.
We moved back to my ex's home province in the hopes of starting over again. We lived in a little two bedroom apartment so we could pay off our debts from moving. My husband had to work nights as he had lost his seniority. He would leave for work at 15:00 and arrive at 24:00 then he would sleep all day until it was time to work again. His job was not physical, he sat around all day, even telling me that he had to pretend to have work as there was nothing to do. It was not like he was working super hard. I had to keep the kids quiet. When he was up he would be constantly yelling at me. I was trying to express my needs a bit but once again, I ended up trying desperately to appease him. I tried to make food he liked, I tried to keep the kids quiet, I tried to give him good sex. All this with four kids under six.
I started getting sick, but this time physically. I would shake terribly before meals, I was not able to sleep at night. I had horrible night sweats. I ended up on antibiotics three or four times for sinus infections. My hypoglycemia got ten times worse and I was having a hard time getting through the afternoons. I had a huge food allergy and almost stopped breathing. Then I reacted to the penicillin I was prescribed for an infection and ended up in the hospital again. My body was shutting down. I couldn't keep up what I was doing. I still didn't get it. I once again decided everything was my fault. I started memorising the bible and putting verses all over the apartment to remind myself to be thankful. I journalled my frustrations and thanked god for them knowing that these "brief and momentary troubles" were "attaining for me a glory that far outweighed them all". I memorised the verse that said I could do anything "through Christ who strengthens me". Then I pushed myself to go over and above the physical signs that my body was giving to me. I held onto the bible verses that promised a better afterlife. I began to live for my death. I had hope that all the mistreatment I was getting would be paid back in heaven when I died. So I pushed aside all the suicidal thoughts (that constantly came back because my life was hell), held each thought "captive to the obedience of Christ". And pushed through.
After a year we found a house a little further north of where we were. I was happy and thankful, like I should be, to be in a bigger place. There was forest all around and the kids were thrilled to have a place to play. By this time the Internet had gotten big so my ex now settled into the routine that would be his for the almost the whole of the next twelve years. Go to work in the morning, get home at 16:00 o'clock, sit at the computer until supper was ready, scarf down his supper, go in the bath and yell at me to bring the two littlest so he could wash them. I would try to start cleaning up the kitchen and he would yell at me to come get them, three and a half minutes later when he had semi-washed them. After, he would lay in the bath until I had brushed everyone's teeth and got them to bed. He would listen and when he was sure everyone was in bed, he would dry himself off and sit at the computer again until he went to bed. Every second night the routine was a little different. He would sit in front of the computer, tell me to get in the bath because he wanted sex (I hate sitting in scum so I had to wash it every time). I would wash the kids, play with them for awhile, then get out with them, dry them off, dress them, get everyone ready for bed, teeth brushed, then he would get in the bath. He would stay there until the kids were in bed, get out, get dried off and tell me it was my lucky night. Oh my god, I was so lucky. Every second night an hour and a half of pleasuring monsieur. Do you know I counted up to 830 times of him pushing into me while I was on all fours until he came? I was so lucky. The dishes? I had to do them after, or in the morning if I was falling over from fatigue that night, which happened often. He would always joke and say, "Don't worry about the dishes, you can do them tomorrow." But it wasn't funny because it was true.
No comments:
Post a Comment