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August 28, 2018 11:43 am  #1

22 years and in the end he tried to KILL me


Just typing that subject line still makes me sick, two years after the fact.  I have lurked on this board for the last three years.  I spoke to a counselor when I first left him, did not have any support groups near me and used other avenues of trying to heal .  I'll try not to make this a "book" (that I have in me, but don't know if I want to write).  I finally signed up today because I wanted to ask for advice, but realized that I probably needed to post on here first.  The other therapy and research I've done for the last three years, has come to help me understand the gas lighting and all my faults that kept me in the marriage for so long. 

I married my ex when I was in my mid twenties (despite jokes from his first wife that he was gay).  I thought I had a perfect marriage (looking back, denial was more then a river in Egypt, it was not perfect from the beginning).  He was my best friend, my whole entire world, we had a great life (so I thought).  Looking back, I now know, that he bought me off with jewelry and things whenever I thought about leaving him.  The sexual problems started about 7 years in.  But as a good wife (who was going to be married for life) I made excuses (some of my many faults, pride and co-dependency) At some point, his pain pill addiction, became the excuse for lack of "ability" in the area of marital relations.  I can look back and realize that I took away one of the things he needed.  Porn movies .  They were heterosexual in nature, I was young, but startled to get really offended by them and said enough.  I can look back now and realize that he needed to be looking at the MEN, not the women.   

There were times, I caught him having on-line affairs with other women (still not enough self-esteem to leave him).  It was not until he ended up in re-hab at around 18 years of marriage that I started to question his true sexuality.  His counselor was gay and made the mistake of telling me that there were other problems (she almost got fired, but he lied for her).  He began crying to me that his whole life had been a lie.  I asked him then (lovingly) "tell me, are you gay, just please for once in your life tell the truth?".  His answer was an emphatic no (I know I know, hindsight is 20/20).  After re-hab things got even more weird, he would tell me that he had spent his life trying to make women happy.  He started telling me about his life of illicit drug use.

We went to couples counseling and I can remember trying to discuss sex.  He stormed out screaming it’s just sex, who cares.  I can look back and realize he was still trying to be a ‘good catholic” and was still in his own denial about his gay desires .

This was the slow beginning of the end.  We retired and moved to a rural location.  I slowly started to truly become crazy, my life was pure insanity.  He stood in our kitchen and told me that he would do whatever he wanted to do and would never leave me unless I found someone else who wanted to marry me.  We slept in separate bedrooms (because of his snoring, ha it made me sick being around him).  He stopped brushing his teeth, bathing, shaving (I think he was trying to drive me away at that point).  Things i caught him looking at on the internet, my mind could not fathom.

Ok this is part of my edit and adding for the benefit of others.  I walked in once and caught him looking at pictures of horses with erect penises.  WHAT!   My step father was staying with us and I couldn’t even flip out.  Had to hide the insanity right?  As we sat at dinner that night he started talking about wanting to go look at the horses down the street.  I think the only thing that kept me from killing myself at this point, was therapy with a female gay therapist.  Although we did not discuss her affiliation, it was obvious.  She would look at me with these caring eyes like she just wanted to scream at me HE,s GAY.

I became jealous of his new male best friend (he had never had any male friends and was verbally anti-gay).  All the while his drug addiction got worse, I truly believe he wanted me to kill myself (that would have released him from his "moral obligation as a husband", as I had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis).   Plus everything would then be his, including my pension for the rest of his life.  He would disappear for hours, refused to carry a cell phone. 

I think he believed that I would never leave him.  As his use of drugs became something I had to accept and live with, it became like a truth serum at times.  He would be extremely high, we would be watching tv and he would say things like “now that’s a good looking man”. WTF?  He hated that I loved the show Grace and Frankie (I think my subconscious mind was trying to wake me up, I was also obsessed with Fran Dresschers show and story ).

I was almost ready to kill myself, as I had no support if I left him.  I never had my own children (was a Mom to his, I was a Grandmother, etc).  I am leaving so many things out, but it doesn't matter, the summer of 2015 was pure insanity.  He had never hit me in 22 years together, but I was afraid of him.  His drug rages were off the charts.  Finally in the fall, I found the strength and enlisted the help of a step-brother to leave him.  I had no support from what family I had.  My Father, who was never really a Father, had no time to deal with it, he had his own problems.  My Step-Father refused to believe anything and was adamant that I go back to my husband.  I didn't tell the adult children (they all knew about his drub addiction) about his sexual identity issues.  But anyone else?  Fair game, I had lived a lie long enough. 

I ended up living in a hotel (I had money, but was very physically ill).  I was going to load up a trailer and move far away.  My husband started cyber stalking me (changing passwords, etc).  Long story short, the only support I had, was from my therapist, the day my husband threatened her, I "lost it"  thought I was having a heart attache and ended up in the psych ward (this from the person who had been in "control" her whole life, but in reality had been controlled by my husband and both Fathers).

I even refused to leave the hospital, when my step-father came and wanted to drag me to where he lived.  I told everyone no, I needed the rest.  I feel no shame over that, I really did need the rest and it was a safe place.   I left my husband with what I could put in my car, I said it was all just stuff.  I even left him my dog, I knew that I had to take care of me and save myself.

Anyway, ended up moving close to my real father and step-mother (that's a whole different world of crazy that I'll save for the book).  Had my own apartment, and got a divorce as quickly as I could.  Part of my leaving him, was that I had been his mother for all those years, I took care of everything and had always cleaned up his messes.  I had thrown him out once and he had made my life a living hell.  So I said, this time, you're going to handle it.  You sell the house.  I went back one time to get some things and work out our divorce.  That was an insane weekend.

Trying to work out a civil divorce with a drug addict,  I didn't ask for a dime.  I knew the only way was to take my pension, he keep his, sell the house and split everything else equally.  I thought I would spend the rest of my life crying over my lost marriage and everything I had worked for, my whole life.   It was funny, I borrowed his Ipad that weekend to listen to music.  I opened it up and the front page was all completely gay porn.  I showed it to him and said, Can't you finally just admit it to me? (I wanted what most of us want on here, an apology for ruining my life).  He was high and made some deflection (as he always did).  So no, no apology for me (oh and he was now dating my former housekeeper, to this day they are together, he immediately got another cover and Mommy, lol.  She can't ever say she wasn't told.  When I left I told her, you can have him if you want, but he's gay).  I honestly don't know what his affiliation is, I don't care, not my problem anymore.

So I'll skip forward, to six months later.  We were divorced.  Our house was sold, although he thought he was going to live in it with my former housekeeper.  He did his best to not let it sell, but I forced the issue with threats that the court had jurisdiction over the sale.  My husband who was very close to my step-father, tried to get my step-father to help him buy me out of the house with my (potential inheritance).  did I mention that he is a Narcissistic Sociopath? (No, I'll get to that for the grand finale).

Anyway, house sold.  My real Father said I had to go and get "my stuff", no one believed me  that I was afraid of him (and he was pissed that the house was sold).  So being the controlled person I was, I went alone (I tried to get anyone to go with me, offered big money to people in my support groups, but in the end went despite my better judgement).  I stayed in the house, while my ex and his new girlfriend lived on their pot farm.  We spent the days together packing (what was left, he stole pretty much what wasn't specifically listed in the divorce decree.  Some things, like garage items, etc said 50/50).  The whole thing was insanity, but as long as the new girlfriend was around, it was somewhat OK.

I had lost a ton of weight (yes, I had drowned my sorrows in food during the end of the marriage) and looked good.  I was happy and he didn't like it.  I wen't out one night and met my new husband.  My ex lost it.  He came over one day (this all happened in the span of two weeks, it was a big house and 22 years of stuff) acting like a psycho without the girlfriend.  I ran out of the house (very rural wood area) in my nightgown.  I texted with the new girlfriend, she said she knew.  I called my Father and said I had to leave, again no one believed me (this is all in a part of the country where there the cops just don't come).  Even if I had got a restraining order, there would have been no one to serve it.  So I stayed.  I chained the gate and told him that he was not welcome till I left in a few days.  That I would not touch anything that was his, just give me the respect of 22 years and leave me in peace.

See, what I didn't mention was, that we had right of survivor ship on the house (during the divorce, we knew it "could" take a long time to sell it, since it was not inexpensive and very unique, BIG mistake on my part).   I don't know if he planned my death and my grave was already dug, or if it was just a fit of drug induced narcissistic rage (that I dared leave him and was happy).  But he didn't listen, he broke down the chained gate and blocked me in with his car (none of this could be seen from the house).  He came in through a window, when he had the keys to the house.

I pulled a shotgun on him yelling at him to just leave (again, no cops to call and this all happened very fast, oh who cares, this feels so good to tell my story we were both retired cops!!!!)  I couldn't pull the trigger, I still loved him at that point.  He got the shotgun away from me and started beating me with it.   I had a small revolver in my robe pocket (why didn't I leave the day before?  I know, but something had snapped in me and I had decided that I was done being afraid of him.  No, he had never hit me before, but YEARS of mental abuse).  I ended up staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun (he didn't know if it was really loaded or not, but I did) and he was staring at the barrel of my 5 shot 38 centered on his chest.  What a way to go huh? 

We were standing 5 feet away from each other.  I looked at the man, I had loved for most of my adult life and realized that I did not now him at all.  My cop training kicked in and I said.  "What do you want?  We're both going to die here.  Whats the point?  We're divorced, lets just go live our separate lives  (I now know the absolute hatred he felt for me, I knew the truth, the truth he has spent his entire life trying to hide, even from himself).  He told me he wanted me to go unchain the gate (Like I said, I couldn't see it).  I said ok, and put the 38 back in my pocket (BIG MISTAKE). 

He had never moved so fast in his life, next thing I knew I was on the ground, he was sitting on my chest with a leg across my left arm that he had hit three times with the shotgun (the first hit had been to my hip, a grown man would have fallen, the bruise ended up being enormous from my front to the back)  he took my head in both his hands and started smashing it against the ragged rock wall that I was laying against on the concrete patio).  He then took his right hand and started chocking me, screaming either "I hate you, and am going to kill you" or it was "I could kill you"  I really don't remember, but he was accomplishing the act either way.  I was fighting to get the 38 out of my right pocket, as I was starting to black out, I got the gun out.  All of my training told me to shoot him in the head, but I still couldn't kill him.  I shot him in his left side, point blank range right on top of me. 

He got up and said "you shot me" (no kidding).  He ran up the driveway (right as the girlfriend arrived)  I called 911 and then my new boyfriend that I knew all of 7 days (now my new husband of 2 months).  He was shot through and through, only at the hospital about 6 hours.  Probably as stubborn as I was.  I refused to go to the hospital.   I knew I would never see my home again and I needed to tell my story to the cops.

I sat there for 7 hours being interrogated.  I didn't ask for a lawyer, I had nothing to hide.  In the end,  they let us both go.  Said there was no witnesses.  My new boyfriend drove me the 6 hour drive to where I was living and where there was good medical care.  I was hospitalized for 5 days with cellulitis on my left arm.  My arm only got worse and swelled to a grotesque grapefruit sized mass.  I was again hospitalized and had emergency surgery.  I was told that I was lucky to still have my arm.  I was left with a huge hole in my arm, almost to the bone.  I wore a wound vac for most of the summer.  I have nerve and muscle damage from my fingertips going all the way up my arm.  Not to mention a lovely scar and hole in my arm that I get to live with the rest of my life.  So besides Multiple Sclerosis, there is not a day, I am not in pain and get to see this permanent damage the rest of my life.  (there was an article on here recently where someone said, "were you really destroyed" that angered me.  Yes, I know my situation is extreme, but I was almost killed.  Still working on "the permanent destruction recovery".

Funny thing is, I don't hate him.  I know I could never hate him as much as he hated himself.  I don't have to live with the fact that I killed him.  He has to live with the fact that he tried to kill me and he's lucky to not be in prison (no one went to jail, the cops said, no witnesses, this is a messed up case, you both go on and just live your lives, he has moved FAR away).

But LOSS?  I ended up losing my step-children and more specifically my Granddaughter as "blood is thicker then water".  I am very grateful to be alive and to have found my new Husband (who has stood by my side through everything).  I have a chance at happiness.  But the healing is slow to come.  I live every day with the image of the man I used to love on top of me trying to kill me.  I think that will be burned into my corneas the rest of my life.  I had to walk away from the toxic controlling relationship with my real father and step-mother.  And my step-father has no love left in his heart for me.  I am a liar and he is still in contact with my XH (he is old, was just as gaslighted as I was, he’s angry I took away his dream, he was going to come live with us in my former beautiful home - more like a house of horrors).

I'm working on being happy.  I did not have my own children, I do not have any brothers and sisters.  The few people I considered family, could not comprehend what I've told you above.  At least now, I have a wonderful Husband and his family has embraced me, even if my story is incomprehensible to them.  They know that I love their Son and make him happy.  We had a beautiful wedding, I needed something beautiful to start my new life (I had one person at the wedding, a friend of my deceased Mother, the narcissist truly took away as much as he could from me, friends?  HA, if family couldn't understand that my life had been a lie, friends ran even faster). 

It feels good to tell my story,  as I said on another section I wish I could stand on the top of the Empire State Building and scream my truth.  I also wish I could just “forget about it” and just be happy and thankful that I am alive.  Unfortunately it doesn’t work that way.  Yes I have PTSD, yes I look at my damaged arm every day.  Maybe one day I’ll get a tattoo over it and turn something ugly into something pretty (currently don’t have any tattoos and at 50 not sure if I want to start now lol).

But I can say this, I can get up every morning with hope in my heart.  I’m working on the gratitude part.  I want to help others.  I want to have a real life again.  I want to be happy.

Damaged but not Broken

Last edited by 4everdamaged (September 4, 2018 10:35 am)


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