Just as I had expected, my joyful, carefree relaxed feeling ended abruptly as soon as Dick came home following his jaunt. Without a doubt the ambiance of our home suddenly took on a cool, unwelcoming, unfriendly air. It was unmistakable. I've heard that people emit their own positive or negative energy fields. Dick's aura has to be in the sub-zero zone. Whenever I get too close to him, my blood turns to ice. Trust me, it's true. Experiencing it firsthand is uncanny.
Renewed, refreshed and recharged from his recent excursion, Dick was raring to go. He wasted no time in picking up where he left off prior to his departure. I knew things were too good to last. I just can't stand how brief the respite is between his unending, maniacal malicious attacks. I'm well aware that these bouts are his rush... his drug of choice. Putting others down, outsmarting someone else, getting away with something he shouldn't brings Dick to life. He craves this need for power and control. For far too long, I've been his favorite target, and an easy one at that. He knew he could do whatever he wanted to me and get away with it because he didn't have to account for his actions to anyone. Thankfully that's all changing now.
Throughout the years, I've often wondered what occurred in his childhood that would cause him to become such an angry, bitter, rage-filled, mean-spirited man. Always so secretive about his past, Dick built an impenetrable wall around himself that was impossible to scale. After a while I gave up trying and caring. To stay sane, I also built a protective fortress around myself. This relationship that the two of us shared required way too much energy, work and fortitude. It drained the life out of me. I was completely spent and I wanted and needed him and his venom out of my life. But I still had a long way to go before that would happen.
Like a preschooler, Dick loves to play games and makes up his own rules changing them at whim to guarantee he is always the winner. His latest escapade was to order me around with demands for food and other items that he expected me to buy for him with the money he was required to give to me. While he was busy conjuring up outlandish requests, I kept telling him if he wanted something, then he should have gone out and bought it himself. Without fail, this set off major verbal sparring matches. Neither one of us won and the level of communication, respect and civility declined several notches with each incident. Even though I was in the court and Dick was not, he adamantly tried to convince me that he knew exactly what the judge meant by ordering Dick to give me cash for spending money and my lawyer and I had totally misunderstood the situation. Luckily for me, he was more than happy to enlighten me.
And he tried to educate me on several occasions. There was one particular incident that took the cake for farcical behavior. Dick decided that he didn't care for the loaf of bread that I bought and in no uncertain terms, told me which bakery to go to, what variety I needed to find for him and when I should pick it up... because, as he put it, "That was what the judge ruled. I was supposed to buy all the food and necessities for the house with the money he gave me to do so." I outright refused. Dick was not used to me disobeying him. He went ballistic. Regardless, I stood my ground. I did not buy him what he wanted. As a means to retaliate, he placed umpteen phone calls to his lawyer regarding that loaf of bread. His legal fees for those repeated phone calls cost a a lot of dough. When all was said and done, he learned that I was supposed to have access to the checkbook all along. For the first time in his life, he was losing at his own game.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Calm In Between Storms
After Dick left for his business/Labor Day Holiday vacation, I could honestly sense a change in the air in our home. There was a lightness, calmness and an overall feeling of peace. Maybe it was because I knew he wouldn't be breathing down my neck for the next several days and I would be free from his sneakiness, manipulative actions and controlling ways. In any event, I was enjoying whatever it was that I was feeling. Five whole days without Dick!!! I was like a kid whose parents were going out of town and would have the place to herself.
While I had no wild parties planned at our home, I was looking forward to an event coming up on Saturday. Friends of mine, who I lost touch with several years earlier and recently reconnected with, were having an open house at their vacation home in a neighboring state. I was happy that Marni made plans with her friends to go to a local holiday festival that day so at least I knew she would be occupied while I was gone. All of a sudden I was getting a taste of what being a single mom was going to be like... an introduction to my new emerging status.
On Saturday afternoon, after I dropped off Marni and her friends at the event, I drove over to another friend's house. She and her husband offered to take me to the open house, so I wouldn't have to go by myself. Sitting in the backseat of their car, I suddenly felt alone and lonely. This was the first time in 26 years that I was going to a party without my husband. Even though Dick and I hadn't gotten along for a number of years , there was a level of comfort in knowing that we would have each other at social events. This was my first "solo" experience. Sadness crept in and accompanied me the rest of the ride. When we got to our destination, I felt the melancholy start to lift. My friends' home was right on the lake for which this popular resort town was named. Over the years, Dick, the kids and I would come up here for little getaways or just to spend the day. I always wondered who lived in these homes and now I was actually partying at one. A crowd was already there by the time we arrived and immediately I got caught up in conversation. The group meandered out to the dock and spent a leisurely afternoon enjoying the weather, food and drink. The view from the backyard was breathtaking. Before dinner, my friend's husband took a few of us out for a boat ride around the lake. I was having the time of my life. Sitting around with old pals and new acquaintances , enjoying a sumptuous Italian spread of salad, pasta, lasagna, roasted vegetables, crusty bread, wine and rich-mouthwatering desserts, while sharing lively conversation and non-stop laughter, I was beginning to get a taste of what my new life could be like. By the same token, it hit me like a Mac truck, what I was missing for way too long, how much I put up with and how deprived I've been of all the things that mattered the most to me: good friends, companionship, happiness, a feeling of belonging and fitting in and most important of all, being surrounded by people who made me feel alive and appreciated. Getting a divorce sure put a new perspective on things. I started to realize that much better things are waiting for me out there, once I get through all the crap I'm dealing with now.
All in all, it was a great day... the first one I had in far too long.
While I had no wild parties planned at our home, I was looking forward to an event coming up on Saturday. Friends of mine, who I lost touch with several years earlier and recently reconnected with, were having an open house at their vacation home in a neighboring state. I was happy that Marni made plans with her friends to go to a local holiday festival that day so at least I knew she would be occupied while I was gone. All of a sudden I was getting a taste of what being a single mom was going to be like... an introduction to my new emerging status.
On Saturday afternoon, after I dropped off Marni and her friends at the event, I drove over to another friend's house. She and her husband offered to take me to the open house, so I wouldn't have to go by myself. Sitting in the backseat of their car, I suddenly felt alone and lonely. This was the first time in 26 years that I was going to a party without my husband. Even though Dick and I hadn't gotten along for a number of years , there was a level of comfort in knowing that we would have each other at social events. This was my first "solo" experience. Sadness crept in and accompanied me the rest of the ride. When we got to our destination, I felt the melancholy start to lift. My friends' home was right on the lake for which this popular resort town was named. Over the years, Dick, the kids and I would come up here for little getaways or just to spend the day. I always wondered who lived in these homes and now I was actually partying at one. A crowd was already there by the time we arrived and immediately I got caught up in conversation. The group meandered out to the dock and spent a leisurely afternoon enjoying the weather, food and drink. The view from the backyard was breathtaking. Before dinner, my friend's husband took a few of us out for a boat ride around the lake. I was having the time of my life. Sitting around with old pals and new acquaintances , enjoying a sumptuous Italian spread of salad, pasta, lasagna, roasted vegetables, crusty bread, wine and rich-mouthwatering desserts, while sharing lively conversation and non-stop laughter, I was beginning to get a taste of what my new life could be like. By the same token, it hit me like a Mac truck, what I was missing for way too long, how much I put up with and how deprived I've been of all the things that mattered the most to me: good friends, companionship, happiness, a feeling of belonging and fitting in and most important of all, being surrounded by people who made me feel alive and appreciated. Getting a divorce sure put a new perspective on things. I started to realize that much better things are waiting for me out there, once I get through all the crap I'm dealing with now.
All in all, it was a great day... the first one I had in far too long.
The Party Was Over Before It Even Got Started
When I left the courthouse, I was floating on Cloud Nine. For the first time since this whole mess started, I had something to finally be happy about. It actually felt like the tightness in my neck muscles, which I affectionately refer to as "my noose that has been strangling me since my wedding day" was finally loosening up a bit. For a brief period of time, I was one happy camper. However, I knew better than to think that Dick wouldn't try to screw things up somehow. He was not going to let me enjoy any victories whatsoever.
And just as I had expected, he didn't disappoint. When he came home from work in the early afternoon, he was in a foul mood, changed his clothes and stormed out of the house. A few hours later he returned. I was in Josh's room, which is my new "home away from home," when Dick barged in holding the checkbook in one hand and an envelope from the bank in the other. Sensing this was not going to be good, the tension began rising in my body as the noose around my neck resumed its strangling grip. With the look of sheer loathing in his eyes, Dick stared at me and said, "Here is the cash I am supposed to give you. I want you to count it in front of me to make sure that it is all there." I counted the money and told him that indeed it was the right amount. Waving the checkbook at me he said, "Now you know that you are no longer allowed to use this." "That is not true at all," I answered, fully aware of the sudden surge of the stress hormones that were flooding my system in anticipation of the battle that was about to be waged. "Oh yes," he continued. "I talked to my attorney three times today and she said that since I am giving you cash, you are no longer permitted to use the checkbook. In addition, this money is to be used for groceries and necessities for the house." I responded with, "That is not what the judge said at all. I was in the courtroom and he specifically said that there was not enough money in the checkbook to hold me over for the next several days. The money you had to give me is in addition to what is in the checkbook, not instead of what is there." I continued, "He never said I was now responsible for food and other items." This exchange erupted into a full-blown altercation. When the dust finally settled, Dick took the checkbook, hid it and left for his trip early the next morning.
And just as I had expected, he didn't disappoint. When he came home from work in the early afternoon, he was in a foul mood, changed his clothes and stormed out of the house. A few hours later he returned. I was in Josh's room, which is my new "home away from home," when Dick barged in holding the checkbook in one hand and an envelope from the bank in the other. Sensing this was not going to be good, the tension began rising in my body as the noose around my neck resumed its strangling grip. With the look of sheer loathing in his eyes, Dick stared at me and said, "Here is the cash I am supposed to give you. I want you to count it in front of me to make sure that it is all there." I counted the money and told him that indeed it was the right amount. Waving the checkbook at me he said, "Now you know that you are no longer allowed to use this." "That is not true at all," I answered, fully aware of the sudden surge of the stress hormones that were flooding my system in anticipation of the battle that was about to be waged. "Oh yes," he continued. "I talked to my attorney three times today and she said that since I am giving you cash, you are no longer permitted to use the checkbook. In addition, this money is to be used for groceries and necessities for the house." I responded with, "That is not what the judge said at all. I was in the courtroom and he specifically said that there was not enough money in the checkbook to hold me over for the next several days. The money you had to give me is in addition to what is in the checkbook, not instead of what is there." I continued, "He never said I was now responsible for food and other items." This exchange erupted into a full-blown altercation. When the dust finally settled, Dick took the checkbook, hid it and left for his trip early the next morning.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
My Day In Court
Josh was settled back at school and Marni was already caught up in her new routine as a high school sophomore. Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer was right around the corner. As I was rushing out the door with Marni one evening about a week before the holiday, Dick casually announced to me that he was going out to the west coast the following week on business and if his friend was going to be in town, he would stay at his house for the extended holiday. He sure had a knack for timing ... telling me this as I rapidly passed him by. I asked him when he would know how long he would be gone. As usual, he refused to give me a direct answer.
This whole situation made me very nervous. I knew he was up to something. I wasn't comfortable with his travel arrangements and secrecy surrounding his plans. Even two days before his trip, he still wouldn't tell me when he was coming home.
Around this time, I places several calls to my attorney, expressing my concern over the situation as well as the lack of funds Dick was planning on leaving me with while he was gone. With no access to the money market fund and having been taken off the credit card, I had to rely on the money in the checkbook. There was not enough in there to hold Marni and me over until he returned from his trip. My attorney notified me that we had a court date about a week after Dick returned. I told him that was too late. We needed to see the judge before Dick left. Fortunately, my attorney was able to get us in as an emergency.
We were back in court on Wednesday, September 2, 2009, the day before Dick left on his trip. After I entered the building, made my way through security and found the courtroom, I was amazed at how familiar this place and all the personnel, lawyers and other clients were becoming to me. What shocked me most was how much my perception of the whole experience changed in such a short period of time. It wasn't that long ago that I trembled at the thought of being a part of this process. Now, this was just a normal part of my new reality. I guess you really do get used to everything over time.
Because we were put on the schedule at the last minute, my regular judge wasn't available and we were seeing a new judge in a different courtroom. My lawyer told me he didn't know how things would turn out since this wasn't our regular judge and this one might not consider my situation an emergency. Dick wasn't there. His attorney wasn't either and sent a young, female associate in his place. As I sat waiting for my name to be called, I listened to the others ahead of me state their issues. Based on what I heard, I decided I liked this judge. When our case was called, the three of us approached the bench. My lawyer shared some background information with the court and asked for temporary funds for me. Dick's attorney said that the money situation was like this for several years, her client paid all the household expenses, it worked out well and there was no need to change anything. The judge asked me how much spending money Dick gives me per week. I answered him. He asked how much money was in the checkbook. I told him the amount. He then asked how long that money was supposed to last for. I told him for the next 10 days. At that point, he turned to Dick's attorney and said, "She can't live on that amount of money. Tell your client that he has to give her this much cash today." He then turned to my attorney and asked if we had another court date set up for temporary financial support. My attorney told him we did and they verified the date. We thanked the judge and left the courtroom. For the first time in a long time, my spirits were lifted and I felt good.
This whole situation made me very nervous. I knew he was up to something. I wasn't comfortable with his travel arrangements and secrecy surrounding his plans. Even two days before his trip, he still wouldn't tell me when he was coming home.
Around this time, I places several calls to my attorney, expressing my concern over the situation as well as the lack of funds Dick was planning on leaving me with while he was gone. With no access to the money market fund and having been taken off the credit card, I had to rely on the money in the checkbook. There was not enough in there to hold Marni and me over until he returned from his trip. My attorney notified me that we had a court date about a week after Dick returned. I told him that was too late. We needed to see the judge before Dick left. Fortunately, my attorney was able to get us in as an emergency.
We were back in court on Wednesday, September 2, 2009, the day before Dick left on his trip. After I entered the building, made my way through security and found the courtroom, I was amazed at how familiar this place and all the personnel, lawyers and other clients were becoming to me. What shocked me most was how much my perception of the whole experience changed in such a short period of time. It wasn't that long ago that I trembled at the thought of being a part of this process. Now, this was just a normal part of my new reality. I guess you really do get used to everything over time.
Because we were put on the schedule at the last minute, my regular judge wasn't available and we were seeing a new judge in a different courtroom. My lawyer told me he didn't know how things would turn out since this wasn't our regular judge and this one might not consider my situation an emergency. Dick wasn't there. His attorney wasn't either and sent a young, female associate in his place. As I sat waiting for my name to be called, I listened to the others ahead of me state their issues. Based on what I heard, I decided I liked this judge. When our case was called, the three of us approached the bench. My lawyer shared some background information with the court and asked for temporary funds for me. Dick's attorney said that the money situation was like this for several years, her client paid all the household expenses, it worked out well and there was no need to change anything. The judge asked me how much spending money Dick gives me per week. I answered him. He asked how much money was in the checkbook. I told him the amount. He then asked how long that money was supposed to last for. I told him for the next 10 days. At that point, he turned to Dick's attorney and said, "She can't live on that amount of money. Tell your client that he has to give her this much cash today." He then turned to my attorney and asked if we had another court date set up for temporary financial support. My attorney told him we did and they verified the date. We thanked the judge and left the courtroom. For the first time in a long time, my spirits were lifted and I felt good.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Take This Job And Shove It... A Trilogy... Part III
Emancipation
A Trilogy
Part III: Airing Out Dirty Laundry
or
No Tickee... No Washee
I was on a roll. There was no stopping me now. It was time to sever all domestic ties to Dick by no longer doing his laundry and ironing. This was a biggie. Dick never washed a load of clothes his entire life. He never learned how nor did he have any intentions of mastering the skill. Before he married me, he lived at home. His mom took care of everything for him. After we got married, I unknowingly took over the role of "mom." I found out way too late that the guy who became my husband was not a man. He was a spoiled boy who refused to grow up and take any responsibility for himself. The reality was, he wasn't raised to. His parents believed they gave birth to the Almighty and complied with all of his commands, wishes and desires. They worshiped him, praised him and felt that everyone else should bow down to him as well. How lucky for me that I had the privilege, honor and distinction of being able to serve him and cater to his every whim for over 26 years.
As they say, all good things must come to an end. Thankfully, even the bad things eventually come to an end as well. My tenure as Cinderella would be terminating in the near future. In the meantime, I still have to deal with my equivalent of the evil stepmother and stepsisters. (Dick and his family) So, if I am Cinderella, is my Prince Charming on his way to rescue me? Will we live happily ever after??? A girl can dream, can't she???
Getting back to reality, things got very ugly, nasty and vicious when Dick realized that his laundry was not getting done anymore. He made this discovery when he went down to the basement one day and astutely noticed that the only pile of clothes down there was his dirty belongings. After several days, he asked me if I was doing his laundry. I told him that from now on that was his responsibility. He blew a gasket. Madder than I ever saw him, his face contorted into an evil grimace. Rage filled his eyes as he announced to me that this was the last straw. Again he promised me that I should wait to see what was about to happen to me. As he stormed out of the house, went into the garage and was about to get into his car, I followed him and said in as forceful a tone as I could muster, "Are you threatening me?" "Are you threatening me," he repeated sarcastically. "That is all you ever know how to say." "That's because that's all you know how to do," I yelled back as I slammed the door.
He really knows how to rile me up. By now I should know better. If only I would just ignore him and let him go on and on without responding. Until I learn how to keep my mouth shut and not react, he'll keep on harassing me. He knows exactly how to lure me in. Stupidly I keep falling for it. One of these days, I'll finally get it right.
Back to the laundry issue, things got very filthy. (pun intended) Dick was relentless. Since I was not obeying his orders, demands or threats, he was determined to drive me crazy. One Sunday, a few weeks after I stopped taking care of his clothes, he almost succeeded. (Since Dick refused to wash his own clothes, he brought it to his 87-year-old mother to do.) He had a pile accumulating in the hallway. After I took a shower, I noticed that Dick had changed his towels in the bathroom, but his used ones were not with his other belongings in the foyer. My towels were at the bottom of my laundry basket. Could Dick have been so petty as to put his in with mine. After emptying out the basket, I saw that was exactly what he did. So I proceeded to take his out and put them on top of his pile. I left the bedroom and went downstairs. When I came back up, again his towels were gone. Again I checked my basket and again they were in there with my towels. Once more I took them out. Once more they were back in. This went on and on. What the heck was he trying to pull? When we were finally together in the bedroom, I took out his towels, threw them on his bed and told him that I was not washing his things and to keep them out of my basket. Dick yelled back, "You don't want to do my laundry, don't do it. I'll put it wherever I want to." I was ready to tell him exactly where to put it. Instead, before I caught myself, I said to him, "Do you think I'm stupid?" He answered, "That's a matter of opinion." Okay, I know I set myself up for that one. At that point, I took my basket down to the basement. Later in the day, his towels magically appeared in the basket in the basement. When I got around to washing my things, I left his towels on the floor. They must be really comfortable there, because they haven't moved from that spot ever since.
A Trilogy
Part III: Airing Out Dirty Laundry
or
No Tickee... No Washee
I was on a roll. There was no stopping me now. It was time to sever all domestic ties to Dick by no longer doing his laundry and ironing. This was a biggie. Dick never washed a load of clothes his entire life. He never learned how nor did he have any intentions of mastering the skill. Before he married me, he lived at home. His mom took care of everything for him. After we got married, I unknowingly took over the role of "mom." I found out way too late that the guy who became my husband was not a man. He was a spoiled boy who refused to grow up and take any responsibility for himself. The reality was, he wasn't raised to. His parents believed they gave birth to the Almighty and complied with all of his commands, wishes and desires. They worshiped him, praised him and felt that everyone else should bow down to him as well. How lucky for me that I had the privilege, honor and distinction of being able to serve him and cater to his every whim for over 26 years.
As they say, all good things must come to an end. Thankfully, even the bad things eventually come to an end as well. My tenure as Cinderella would be terminating in the near future. In the meantime, I still have to deal with my equivalent of the evil stepmother and stepsisters. (Dick and his family) So, if I am Cinderella, is my Prince Charming on his way to rescue me? Will we live happily ever after??? A girl can dream, can't she???
Getting back to reality, things got very ugly, nasty and vicious when Dick realized that his laundry was not getting done anymore. He made this discovery when he went down to the basement one day and astutely noticed that the only pile of clothes down there was his dirty belongings. After several days, he asked me if I was doing his laundry. I told him that from now on that was his responsibility. He blew a gasket. Madder than I ever saw him, his face contorted into an evil grimace. Rage filled his eyes as he announced to me that this was the last straw. Again he promised me that I should wait to see what was about to happen to me. As he stormed out of the house, went into the garage and was about to get into his car, I followed him and said in as forceful a tone as I could muster, "Are you threatening me?" "Are you threatening me," he repeated sarcastically. "That is all you ever know how to say." "That's because that's all you know how to do," I yelled back as I slammed the door.
He really knows how to rile me up. By now I should know better. If only I would just ignore him and let him go on and on without responding. Until I learn how to keep my mouth shut and not react, he'll keep on harassing me. He knows exactly how to lure me in. Stupidly I keep falling for it. One of these days, I'll finally get it right.
Back to the laundry issue, things got very filthy. (pun intended) Dick was relentless. Since I was not obeying his orders, demands or threats, he was determined to drive me crazy. One Sunday, a few weeks after I stopped taking care of his clothes, he almost succeeded. (Since Dick refused to wash his own clothes, he brought it to his 87-year-old mother to do.) He had a pile accumulating in the hallway. After I took a shower, I noticed that Dick had changed his towels in the bathroom, but his used ones were not with his other belongings in the foyer. My towels were at the bottom of my laundry basket. Could Dick have been so petty as to put his in with mine. After emptying out the basket, I saw that was exactly what he did. So I proceeded to take his out and put them on top of his pile. I left the bedroom and went downstairs. When I came back up, again his towels were gone. Again I checked my basket and again they were in there with my towels. Once more I took them out. Once more they were back in. This went on and on. What the heck was he trying to pull? When we were finally together in the bedroom, I took out his towels, threw them on his bed and told him that I was not washing his things and to keep them out of my basket. Dick yelled back, "You don't want to do my laundry, don't do it. I'll put it wherever I want to." I was ready to tell him exactly where to put it. Instead, before I caught myself, I said to him, "Do you think I'm stupid?" He answered, "That's a matter of opinion." Okay, I know I set myself up for that one. At that point, I took my basket down to the basement. Later in the day, his towels magically appeared in the basket in the basement. When I got around to washing my things, I left his towels on the floor. They must be really comfortable there, because they haven't moved from that spot ever since.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Take This Job And Shove It ... A Trilogy... Part II
Emancipation
A Trilogy
Part II: What's Cooking?
Nothing Anymore... The Flame Died
After Dick refused to change his sheets, I nervously waited for the day he got paid to see if he would continue to give me my "allowance" or instead cut off my cash supply. Thankfully he "showed me the money." I breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he ranted and raved, my world didn't fall apart. I challenged him and again I took control over the situation.
It was becoming crystal clear that since I filed for divorce and my home life was now being exposed to our attorneys, judges and the court system, Dick was gradually losing his abusive, controlling grip over me. He didn't like it one bit and was doing everything in his power to keep me submissive to him. However, as much as my husband threatened, yelled and belittled me, he now had to account for his actions to a higher power (so to speak). Finally, the tide was starting to turn in my direction. It was such a relief to talk about what I lived with on a daily basis, be listened to, acknowledged and told this was wrong and I would get the help I needed to get out of this mess and have a life of my own. For the first time in my life, I felt validated. For the first time in my life, I felt hope. For the first time in my life, I felt that the future was mine to live the way I was intended to and not what everyone else expected me to. For the first time in my life I felt that I would finally be free.
It was time to take another step forward. While all these positive feelings were starting to emerge, they still couldn't hold a candle to the almighty, powerful fear that still tightly gripped my spirit. But I knew, at this point, there was no going back. I had to face my demons in order to slay them and be rid of them once and for all. Unfortunately,I was getting totally burned out from the non-stop stress I was under. How I wished I could have put a pause button on my life so I could take a break... a breather to recharge, refresh and reward myself for how far I've come in such a short time. Regrettably, it was not going to happen. Life was moving at a faster and faster pace.I still had so much more to deal with, challenge and fight for.
So, less than a week since I stopped changing Dick's sheets, I decided to hit him with another whammy. It was time to stop preparing his meals. This was a tougher call than the bed issue. I didn't know how he would carry on in front of Marni and how she would react to this new change in the status quo. True to form, the first night I set the table for two instead of three and made enough food for just "the girls," the baby (my husband) threw a major tantrum. It was really quite pitiful to watch a grown man act like a toddler. Boy, did he carry on. Fuming and yelling, he made quite the scene at the kitchen table. "Did you make me dinner tonight?" Dick questioned me as Marni and I started eating our food. "No," I answered, knowing that while I was chewing my food, was probably not the best time to be having this conversation with him. Trembling internally, I was convinced I was becoming the first human Cuisinart. The contents of my stomach were rapidly churning into something that was not going to be visually pleasing, appetizing or mouth-watering. Suddenly, the thought of eating was no longer appealing. "Let me get this straight," continued Dick. "You are only making dinner for the two of you and not for me." This guy is definitely swift. You can't put anything past him. "That's right," I answered. "If that's the way you are going to do things, just wait and see what's going to happen to you," he admonished me. "Whatever," I managed to reply. You'd think I'd be used to all of his bullying by now. Even after all these years, he still knows how to goad me and even worse, I still fall for his bait.
In the long run, not making Dick meals anymore didn't bear too much weight. Over the past few years, he ate out more often than not and rarely joined us as a family for dinner. But, when he was home, he expected to be served his food when he was ready to eat. This was a guy who knew how to have his cake and eat it too.
A Trilogy
Part II: What's Cooking?
Nothing Anymore... The Flame Died
After Dick refused to change his sheets, I nervously waited for the day he got paid to see if he would continue to give me my "allowance" or instead cut off my cash supply. Thankfully he "showed me the money." I breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he ranted and raved, my world didn't fall apart. I challenged him and again I took control over the situation.
It was becoming crystal clear that since I filed for divorce and my home life was now being exposed to our attorneys, judges and the court system, Dick was gradually losing his abusive, controlling grip over me. He didn't like it one bit and was doing everything in his power to keep me submissive to him. However, as much as my husband threatened, yelled and belittled me, he now had to account for his actions to a higher power (so to speak). Finally, the tide was starting to turn in my direction. It was such a relief to talk about what I lived with on a daily basis, be listened to, acknowledged and told this was wrong and I would get the help I needed to get out of this mess and have a life of my own. For the first time in my life, I felt validated. For the first time in my life, I felt hope. For the first time in my life, I felt that the future was mine to live the way I was intended to and not what everyone else expected me to. For the first time in my life I felt that I would finally be free.
It was time to take another step forward. While all these positive feelings were starting to emerge, they still couldn't hold a candle to the almighty, powerful fear that still tightly gripped my spirit. But I knew, at this point, there was no going back. I had to face my demons in order to slay them and be rid of them once and for all. Unfortunately,I was getting totally burned out from the non-stop stress I was under. How I wished I could have put a pause button on my life so I could take a break... a breather to recharge, refresh and reward myself for how far I've come in such a short time. Regrettably, it was not going to happen. Life was moving at a faster and faster pace.I still had so much more to deal with, challenge and fight for.
So, less than a week since I stopped changing Dick's sheets, I decided to hit him with another whammy. It was time to stop preparing his meals. This was a tougher call than the bed issue. I didn't know how he would carry on in front of Marni and how she would react to this new change in the status quo. True to form, the first night I set the table for two instead of three and made enough food for just "the girls," the baby (my husband) threw a major tantrum. It was really quite pitiful to watch a grown man act like a toddler. Boy, did he carry on. Fuming and yelling, he made quite the scene at the kitchen table. "Did you make me dinner tonight?" Dick questioned me as Marni and I started eating our food. "No," I answered, knowing that while I was chewing my food, was probably not the best time to be having this conversation with him. Trembling internally, I was convinced I was becoming the first human Cuisinart. The contents of my stomach were rapidly churning into something that was not going to be visually pleasing, appetizing or mouth-watering. Suddenly, the thought of eating was no longer appealing. "Let me get this straight," continued Dick. "You are only making dinner for the two of you and not for me." This guy is definitely swift. You can't put anything past him. "That's right," I answered. "If that's the way you are going to do things, just wait and see what's going to happen to you," he admonished me. "Whatever," I managed to reply. You'd think I'd be used to all of his bullying by now. Even after all these years, he still knows how to goad me and even worse, I still fall for his bait.
In the long run, not making Dick meals anymore didn't bear too much weight. Over the past few years, he ate out more often than not and rarely joined us as a family for dinner. But, when he was home, he expected to be served his food when he was ready to eat. This was a guy who knew how to have his cake and eat it too.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Take This Job And Shove It ... A Trilogy... Part I
Emancipation
A Trilogy
Part I: The Way You Make Your Bed Is The Way You Lie In It...
No Sheet!
As the youngest of four children, I was raised to do what I was told. So the fact that I married someone who loved to tell me what to do actually isn't surprising at all. I was in training for this marriage my whole life. It was what I knew and what I assumed was normal and natural. I'm not saying it was comfortable, what I believed in or what I wanted for myself but it was definitely familiar.
From the onset of my marriage till recently, I cleaned, did the laundry, ironed the clothes, ran the errands, cooked the meals and when the kids were born, I took care of them as well because Dick said this was my responsibility. Not once was there ever a "thank you," an acknowledgement, show of appreciation or gratitude. Instead, it was expected and assumed that I would handle all of these chores, whether I was working outside of the home or not. As Dick frequently reminded me, "What's the big deal. So you take care of the house. It's not like you do anything else all day. If it wasn't for me working, making a living and paying the bills, you'd be out on the street."
Help of any kind was obviously out of the question. Anything that would make my life easier or would benefit me in any way was about as likely as my winning The Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes. Needless to say, as much as I hoped and prayed, no one ever rang my front door bell with a bouquet of flowers informing me that I just won a major jackpot and my life would soon change for the better.
When my friends asked me why I continued to put up with Dick and let him push me around the way he did, I told them that they didn't understand what it was like living with him. He made all the rules, did what he wanted whenever he wanted and I had no other choice but to go along with it. Fear played a major factor in my being submissive to his constant demands. Throughout our marriage, Dick promised me that if I thought being married to him was bad, I should try to divorce him and see what would happen then. He'd make sure I'd have nothing. When I gave up my career to stay home with the kids and lost all sources of income and a means to support myself, the fear of being penniless and homeless kept me bound to a man who treated me like I was the rug at the front door to wipe his feet on and step all over. He had no respect, nor did he care about me at all. After being treated like this for well-over two decades, my self-esteem, self-confidence and self-worth were shot to hell.
This should explain why a month after I filed for divorce, I was still changing the sheets on the bed that Dick slept on, doing his laundry and ironing and making his meals. That and the fact that he threatened to not give me the $75/week he claimed he didn't have to, (which was supposed to pay for all my personal expenses.) but generously did out of the goodness of his heart kept me from rocking the boat.
I was told by my attorney as well as everyone else, to stop doing everything for Dick. I was not his employee and we were getting a divorce. I decided to live dangerously and take a baby step by not changing the sheets on Dick's bed. When Dick saw that I left his bed unmade, you know what hit the fan.
Coincidentally, this latest outburst happened the night before Josh went back to school. There is definitely a pattern going on here... I filed for divorce the day before Josh's 21st birthday and I didn't change Dick's sheets the day before Josh left for college. I wonder what the significance of all this is. I'm sure one day I'll figure it out. For now, I've got far more pressing issues to deal with.
Like an animal that stalked it's prey, Dick waited for the kids and me to all be together in the same room before he pounced. Going in for the kill, he confronted me with, "Aren't you changing the sheets on my bed?" "No," I announced. "Why not?" he continued. "Josh changes the sheets on his bed, Marni changes the sheets on her bed, I change the sheets on the mattress I'm sleeping on and you can change the sheets on the bed you are sleeping on. I'm not your employee," I replied with a hint of defiance in my voice. "Oh really. Now you're going to pick and choose what you do. Then I don't have to give you money anymore," he replied. "One thing has nothing to do with the other," I answered, feeling the tension and tightness quickly begin to grip the muscles in my neck, back and head as the volume of my voice raised. "Wait till you see what happens to you next," he vehemently threatened. Seeing where this was going and not wanting the kids to witness yet another major confrontation, I walked out of the room and out of the line of fire. Dick was pissed off big time. I was a nervous wreck. I anxiously wondered what his plans for retaliation would include.
In a minuscule way, this capricious act of refusing to change Dick's sheets felt liberating. The shackles binding me to him were ever so slightly starting to lose their grip.
As they say "All great journeys begin with a first step."
A Trilogy
Part I: The Way You Make Your Bed Is The Way You Lie In It...
No Sheet!
As the youngest of four children, I was raised to do what I was told. So the fact that I married someone who loved to tell me what to do actually isn't surprising at all. I was in training for this marriage my whole life. It was what I knew and what I assumed was normal and natural. I'm not saying it was comfortable, what I believed in or what I wanted for myself but it was definitely familiar.
From the onset of my marriage till recently, I cleaned, did the laundry, ironed the clothes, ran the errands, cooked the meals and when the kids were born, I took care of them as well because Dick said this was my responsibility. Not once was there ever a "thank you," an acknowledgement, show of appreciation or gratitude. Instead, it was expected and assumed that I would handle all of these chores, whether I was working outside of the home or not. As Dick frequently reminded me, "What's the big deal. So you take care of the house. It's not like you do anything else all day. If it wasn't for me working, making a living and paying the bills, you'd be out on the street."
Help of any kind was obviously out of the question. Anything that would make my life easier or would benefit me in any way was about as likely as my winning The Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes. Needless to say, as much as I hoped and prayed, no one ever rang my front door bell with a bouquet of flowers informing me that I just won a major jackpot and my life would soon change for the better.
When my friends asked me why I continued to put up with Dick and let him push me around the way he did, I told them that they didn't understand what it was like living with him. He made all the rules, did what he wanted whenever he wanted and I had no other choice but to go along with it. Fear played a major factor in my being submissive to his constant demands. Throughout our marriage, Dick promised me that if I thought being married to him was bad, I should try to divorce him and see what would happen then. He'd make sure I'd have nothing. When I gave up my career to stay home with the kids and lost all sources of income and a means to support myself, the fear of being penniless and homeless kept me bound to a man who treated me like I was the rug at the front door to wipe his feet on and step all over. He had no respect, nor did he care about me at all. After being treated like this for well-over two decades, my self-esteem, self-confidence and self-worth were shot to hell.
This should explain why a month after I filed for divorce, I was still changing the sheets on the bed that Dick slept on, doing his laundry and ironing and making his meals. That and the fact that he threatened to not give me the $75/week he claimed he didn't have to, (which was supposed to pay for all my personal expenses.) but generously did out of the goodness of his heart kept me from rocking the boat.
I was told by my attorney as well as everyone else, to stop doing everything for Dick. I was not his employee and we were getting a divorce. I decided to live dangerously and take a baby step by not changing the sheets on Dick's bed. When Dick saw that I left his bed unmade, you know what hit the fan.
Coincidentally, this latest outburst happened the night before Josh went back to school. There is definitely a pattern going on here... I filed for divorce the day before Josh's 21st birthday and I didn't change Dick's sheets the day before Josh left for college. I wonder what the significance of all this is. I'm sure one day I'll figure it out. For now, I've got far more pressing issues to deal with.
Like an animal that stalked it's prey, Dick waited for the kids and me to all be together in the same room before he pounced. Going in for the kill, he confronted me with, "Aren't you changing the sheets on my bed?" "No," I announced. "Why not?" he continued. "Josh changes the sheets on his bed, Marni changes the sheets on her bed, I change the sheets on the mattress I'm sleeping on and you can change the sheets on the bed you are sleeping on. I'm not your employee," I replied with a hint of defiance in my voice. "Oh really. Now you're going to pick and choose what you do. Then I don't have to give you money anymore," he replied. "One thing has nothing to do with the other," I answered, feeling the tension and tightness quickly begin to grip the muscles in my neck, back and head as the volume of my voice raised. "Wait till you see what happens to you next," he vehemently threatened. Seeing where this was going and not wanting the kids to witness yet another major confrontation, I walked out of the room and out of the line of fire. Dick was pissed off big time. I was a nervous wreck. I anxiously wondered what his plans for retaliation would include.
In a minuscule way, this capricious act of refusing to change Dick's sheets felt liberating. The shackles binding me to him were ever so slightly starting to lose their grip.
As they say "All great journeys begin with a first step."
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Words To Live By
Several years ago, while out dancing with Dick one night, the D.J. played the song, "I Will Survive," by Gloria Gaynor, For some reason, instead of mindlessly gyrating to the beat of the catchy melody like I frequently did when I was caught up in the rhythm, I felt compelled to seriously listen to the words being sung. At that moment it seemed like Gloria was personally reassuring me that I would be okay and that Dick would not succeed in bringing me down, making a nothing out of me or destroying who I am.
Since then, a few of the verses have become my inspiration, motivation and mantra. When things are unbearable, uncomfortable and downright unlivable, they keep me fighting, picking myself up, dusting myself off and believing that much better things are out there waiting for me.
These are the words I live by...
First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
and so you're back
from outer space
I just walked in to find you here
with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed my stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
you'd be back to bother me
Go on now go walk out the door
just turn around now
'cause you're not welcome anymore
weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
you think I'd crumble
you think I'd lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
as long as i know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I'll survive
I will survive
It took all the strength I had
not to fall apart
kept trying hard to mend
the pieces of my broken heart
and I spent oh so many nights
just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry
Now I hold my head up high
YES... I WILL SURVIVE!!!
Since then, a few of the verses have become my inspiration, motivation and mantra. When things are unbearable, uncomfortable and downright unlivable, they keep me fighting, picking myself up, dusting myself off and believing that much better things are out there waiting for me.
These are the words I live by...
First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
and so you're back
from outer space
I just walked in to find you here
with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed my stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
you'd be back to bother me
Go on now go walk out the door
just turn around now
'cause you're not welcome anymore
weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
you think I'd crumble
you think I'd lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
as long as i know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I'll survive
I will survive
It took all the strength I had
not to fall apart
kept trying hard to mend
the pieces of my broken heart
and I spent oh so many nights
just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry
Now I hold my head up high
YES... I WILL SURVIVE!!!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Vicious Cycle
Marni needed a new bicycle. She outgrew her old one several years ago. Since Dick controls the money, it was his decision when she would get one. However, he always had a multitude of excuses why it was never the right time. There's no money now...She never goes riding... There's no money now...She doesn't need one...There's no money now... She has no time to ride... There's no money now...She has too much homework.... There's no money now...It's too early in the season...There's no money now... It's too late in the season... There's no money now...
Amazingly after the divorce proceedings were announced, Dick was ready to take Marni bike shopping. As usual, I was not included in the excursions. Only after they picked out a model they liked, was I told that we were going back to pick it up in my car because it would fit in my trunk.
A few days later we returned to the shop only to discover that the one Marni picked out had already been sold. We were told that a new shipment was coming later that week and a brand new one would be available. After looking at the floor sample, I realized that the bicycle would not fit easily into my trunk and mentioned that we should buy a bike rack. Dick totally dismissed what I said. He adamantly insisted that the bike would fit fine in my trunk. An argument between us immediately ensued. At that moment, it was more than obvious to anyone around us that we had major irreconcilable differences. It was also more than obvious to me that Dick was not putting out an additional $50 for a bike rack.
Fast forward a few days... no new bikes came in. After checking several of their other locations, I was able to track one down in a suburb about half an hour away. Marni and I drove out there, made the purchase and asked the salesperson to load it in my trunk. After several attempts, he wasn't able to fit it in and strongly recommended that we purchase a bike rack. Duh!!! Because Dick only put enough money in the checkbook to cover the bicycle and I no longer had access to the credit card, that was out of the question. So a decision was made to remove the front tire and maneuver the frame into the trunk. Due to the shape of the handlebars, the door wouldn't close around it and had to be tied down. As we drove, the trunk kept banging down repeatedly onto the handlebars. Each nasty thud simultaneously reverberated throughout my body causing me to hate Dick more and more. When we arrived home and removed the bike from the car, there were several scratches all over the shiny new metal on the handlebars. My heart sank as I looked at Marni and her damaged new vehicle. To make a lousy situation even worse, no matter how hard Marni and I tried, we were not able to get the front tire back on the bike. The brake mechanism was broken.
I then called the shop asking for advice and assistance. I was told to bring the bike back and they would fix the brake. Knowing without a doubt that was not going to happen, we had to come up with another solution.
Dick said I should just find a friend who has a van and ask them to take the bike back for me. I told him to find a friend who has a van and he should ask them to take it back for him. This sparked World War III.
Marni wound up giving me $50 of her money to buy a bike rack. The next day I went back to the shop and bought the rack. When I came home and tried to put the device together, I wasn't able to open the clamps. A few days later, Marni and I decided to take the bike and the rack back to the store. I had a brainstorm that we should lower the back seats of my car, put the bike in through the rear door and adjust the rest to fit in the trunk. As Marni attempted to squeeze the cycle through the door, I noticed the handlebars were getting stuck on the leather trim on the door frame. I also noticed as Marni continued to guide the bike into the car, there were fresh gash marks surfacing on the leather trim. Totally losing it at this point, I had a major meltdown. Shaking like a leaf, swearing and yelling like a lunatic, I was convinced I was going to have a nervous breakdown in my driveway. Somehow Marni managed to extricate the bike from the car and we forced it back into the trunk along with the malfunctioning bike rack.
Once again, we were on our way back to the shop. I was really starting to hate the store, this bike, Dick and every other person, place and thing that caused me pain throughout my life. At the same time, my heart went out to Marni and all the negativity she had to deal with in her young life. When we finally arrived at the store, magically things began to improve. We were given a brand new bicycle, the technician in the shop fixed the bike rack, installed it on my car and fitted the bike onto the rack.
Looking back on this whole fiasco, I knew that all the problems Marni and I encountered would have been avoided if Dick had bought the bike rack in the first place. As usual, not only could he care less, he was happy to see how miserable I was. He was getting some sick pleasure watching me fall apart. Worse yet, I knew he had a lot more plans for making my life a living hell up his sleeve.
Amazingly after the divorce proceedings were announced, Dick was ready to take Marni bike shopping. As usual, I was not included in the excursions. Only after they picked out a model they liked, was I told that we were going back to pick it up in my car because it would fit in my trunk.
A few days later we returned to the shop only to discover that the one Marni picked out had already been sold. We were told that a new shipment was coming later that week and a brand new one would be available. After looking at the floor sample, I realized that the bicycle would not fit easily into my trunk and mentioned that we should buy a bike rack. Dick totally dismissed what I said. He adamantly insisted that the bike would fit fine in my trunk. An argument between us immediately ensued. At that moment, it was more than obvious to anyone around us that we had major irreconcilable differences. It was also more than obvious to me that Dick was not putting out an additional $50 for a bike rack.
Fast forward a few days... no new bikes came in. After checking several of their other locations, I was able to track one down in a suburb about half an hour away. Marni and I drove out there, made the purchase and asked the salesperson to load it in my trunk. After several attempts, he wasn't able to fit it in and strongly recommended that we purchase a bike rack. Duh!!! Because Dick only put enough money in the checkbook to cover the bicycle and I no longer had access to the credit card, that was out of the question. So a decision was made to remove the front tire and maneuver the frame into the trunk. Due to the shape of the handlebars, the door wouldn't close around it and had to be tied down. As we drove, the trunk kept banging down repeatedly onto the handlebars. Each nasty thud simultaneously reverberated throughout my body causing me to hate Dick more and more. When we arrived home and removed the bike from the car, there were several scratches all over the shiny new metal on the handlebars. My heart sank as I looked at Marni and her damaged new vehicle. To make a lousy situation even worse, no matter how hard Marni and I tried, we were not able to get the front tire back on the bike. The brake mechanism was broken.
I then called the shop asking for advice and assistance. I was told to bring the bike back and they would fix the brake. Knowing without a doubt that was not going to happen, we had to come up with another solution.
Dick said I should just find a friend who has a van and ask them to take the bike back for me. I told him to find a friend who has a van and he should ask them to take it back for him. This sparked World War III.
Marni wound up giving me $50 of her money to buy a bike rack. The next day I went back to the shop and bought the rack. When I came home and tried to put the device together, I wasn't able to open the clamps. A few days later, Marni and I decided to take the bike and the rack back to the store. I had a brainstorm that we should lower the back seats of my car, put the bike in through the rear door and adjust the rest to fit in the trunk. As Marni attempted to squeeze the cycle through the door, I noticed the handlebars were getting stuck on the leather trim on the door frame. I also noticed as Marni continued to guide the bike into the car, there were fresh gash marks surfacing on the leather trim. Totally losing it at this point, I had a major meltdown. Shaking like a leaf, swearing and yelling like a lunatic, I was convinced I was going to have a nervous breakdown in my driveway. Somehow Marni managed to extricate the bike from the car and we forced it back into the trunk along with the malfunctioning bike rack.
Once again, we were on our way back to the shop. I was really starting to hate the store, this bike, Dick and every other person, place and thing that caused me pain throughout my life. At the same time, my heart went out to Marni and all the negativity she had to deal with in her young life. When we finally arrived at the store, magically things began to improve. We were given a brand new bicycle, the technician in the shop fixed the bike rack, installed it on my car and fitted the bike onto the rack.
Looking back on this whole fiasco, I knew that all the problems Marni and I encountered would have been avoided if Dick had bought the bike rack in the first place. As usual, not only could he care less, he was happy to see how miserable I was. He was getting some sick pleasure watching me fall apart. Worse yet, I knew he had a lot more plans for making my life a living hell up his sleeve.
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