Hints of how it began

Should have listened to that often very quiet voice that was getting louder and louder as as I was walking down the aisle.  The voice kept asking and I was thinking, how can I back out of this without causing so much embarrassment, waste of money, and scorn from some of my family members.

The convoluted justifications  for stepping farther into the road to no return were:

                This is just not a good match... I am too old... blurred together with...he is saying all the right                 things but something doesn't jive...doesn't jive...don't pay attention to my intuition, it is                           wrong.... because I..will.. never.. meet.. anyone.. with depth and genuine spirituality... and all                 the "good North Shore Types", who would make my mom happy,  were already spoken for.  

How did I get here?

I dated his roommate 10 years before.  Couldn't tolerate the dishonesty and the ongoing addiction and denial.  Found out later, he still carried the torch for me. Dumb ass, shoulda said that in the first place.  

But that using stuff, that was non negotiable and his primary driving force. Breaking into the music industry didn't help either.  I was a distant 3rd.  Time to grieve then move on.

Looking around 12 Step Meeting rooms over the next decade, it was slim pickin's when it came to finding high quality, well educated, non legally involved men who didn't already have ex wives, alimony and kids.  

So I get engaged to the son of a newspaper editor.  Okay, the family geneology will please my mom. Never mind he is sarcastic, emotionally withholding, mean, critical and a dumb ass.  Oh, yeah, he told me he had been in a long term facility for schizophrenia and took heavy duty psych meds.  I thought, okay, let's make a go of it.  Um, needless to say, when we went planned our  honeymoon to Hawaii the site seeing was planned on his terms.  I was not allowed to visit the USS Arizona.  Now who the heck goes to Hawaii and doesn't honor the men who died without any warning?  That was a discussion and the compromise came with a price.

Being the perfect, codependent woman our first vacation was planned so he could visit his childhood home in Maine. A stop in Connecticut to see my dad was too far out of the way on his road map. I fought for this visit and won.  That last morning he never asked me if he could have any, he just took it.  I lay there and I took it, too.

I came to my senses. Alone again at 35.  That is bad or,  rather,  I am no good.

Back to the internal work to find me AGAIN.  Artemis, does this ever end?

So what did I do to improve my self esteem? I listen to a friend of mine who persistently tells me that  the musical addict who liked to ride bikes dude from 10 years earlier wanted to go out with me again.  

After a couple of dates, it all feels oddly familiar. He is playing at one of those concerts where the music really hurt my ears, my eyes and my sensibilities.  No one bothers to tell me he is dating his former/present girlfriend  again.  

I lock eyes with someone across the outdoor concert area.  I know I am going to marry this man.

What did I just say? Yes, I know I am going to marry this man.  (Any one hear a chorus of loud bells going off accompanied by ferverently waving red flags?).  Keep to yourself, folks, hindsight is 20/20.

I just kept forgetting about the old phrase "fool me once shame one you, fool me twice shame on me".

Better yet, "the definition of insanity is doing things over and over expecting different results" quip.

Okay, whatever.  

So when the drug addict musician is out playing his guitar, riding his bike or hooking up with his girlfriend, my future abuser, Frank Mathew,  keeps answering the phone.  Keeps saying the right things.  Keeps hanging around and reassuring me that I am not a slut for dating my ex? boyfriend's room mate. 

Somewhere in here I notice he has moved a lot of his stuff into my condo and starts changing things around.  Who the heck buys a cheap washing machine and dryer for a hundred bucks each and expects them to last.  Penny wise pound foolish. 

There I am, at the door of the sanctuary... Ugh, might as well go for it.  Did not want to be the black sheep of the family who had been engaged for the FOURTH time and blew it.

The father out law's toast was: "Besta luck to day bodayous".

As the party was winding down, the  crack addict,  baby sister decided to  steal a case of wine and several glasses rented for the Now Defunct Winnetka Women's Club.  The outspoken  obnoxious aunt , who let everyone know how offended she was because her children weren't invited to the wedding,  ripped apart all the center pieces and saying she was going to make potpourri out of the blossoms.

Now I digress...

(Whatever happened to  those white roses, paper whites, and white Hyacinthe blooms.  I have always hated cut flowers because they are snipped with the intention to celebrate an occasion.   Then they die. )

Now I return...

Who are these people and what family I have I just married into...

As we were hand fasted, I looked into those brown eyes and hoped all this extraneous insanity wouldn't matter.

That was my first mistake.

As the marriage progressed my point of view became weightless, futile, and somewhere I gave in. I  lost my self subtly, slowly, with no self awareness.  Dropped my friends, lost contact with my family, and merged with his.  Somewhere in here I wonder if I noticed that I was losing control, losing myself, but at least I would be married and maybe I can have a kid or two. On the surface, Frank seemed so easily accepted by people and would start up conversations with anyone except his wife and his children.   Deeper still I knew he truly was afraid of people, angry with authority, and addicted to darker activities.  I knew Frank refused to stand for himself , refused to  defend his wife and children, and perceived himself as a victim to everyone who held him accountable for his actions.

Ironically I was asked to give a presentation on Domestic Violence at a local Native American Cultural Center.  I became paralyzed as I delved into the research and saw the abuse as it unfolded.  Nothing physical.   But the words sliced and left deep, permanent, invisible scars. Sliced to the soul.

It became crystal clear that defending an abuser who won't accept his behavior, heal his wounds, and apologize to those he abused was no longer acceptable in my house.

 I needed to defend the triumph my kids had become.

When I told him the marriage was over, his fear, his abuse, and his insanity blew up in the house.  

The worst was yet to come.