This is long and probably incomprehensible. I'm exhausted from not sleeping for days, and I'll come on tomorrow to read it over and fill in the gaps. I suppose it's not the most respectable thing to air my dirty laundry on an online forum, but I needed to tell SOMEbody.
To put it bluntly, my husband (we got married on December 11th, lol) is freaking abusive. Just verbally/emotionally at this point, but sometimes that's so bad that I wish he'd just punch me in the nose because it would hurt less. I have stopped talking to my friends and family for the last few weeks because I'm just embarrassed and afraid that I might let it slip that we don't have a perfect fairytale marriage. I've started a few threads on here about some of our more explosive episodes, so some of you know a bit of the story.
I wish I could list some examples of his buttholery, but there are so many and they all just string together. Not to mention the things he gets angry about sound so petty. Last night he got angry because I asked if he wanted regular meat sauce or meatballs with spaghetti when he apparently mentioned he wanted meatballs a week ago. He's been storming around and cussing and slamming doors ever since. His best friend lives a few doors down and stops by to see if he's home sometimes. Every time he does and Sean isn't home, I tell him about it and he accuses me of cheating. Just constant little fights, he's constantly putting me down, pointing out how stupid and inconsiderate and inadequate I am. I jump when he walks in the door and my mind races around trying to think if there's anything around the apartment that might make him mad and I'm always trying to feel out his mood.
I'm just running out of happy, I guess. I had all this optimism and happiness stockpiled, and I kept thinking things would get better, but that's all being used up. I can't sleep, I've been living on one or two bowls of oatmeal a day (not even because of calories or being skinny or anything...I just can't choke anything else down...sometimes I practically force feed myself a piece of chicken), for the last couple nights I have actually started to sneak a shot or two of vodka into my crystal lights just because that takes the edge off the sadness when he blows up (a trick learned from my alcoholic mummy dearest). I cry all day when he's not home, and I get yelled at if I cry when he is. I know it sounds melodramatic, but I needed to get out while there's still some Megan left.
Welllllll....We didn't talk to each other all day, I ran to Walmart to get some shampoo, he called and said the door was locked. I called my dad and told him, then knocked on the door anyways, he answered and we argued for a few minutes. For once I wasn't a whiney weepy little suck up, but told him very calmly that I needed to be treated with respect and love, otherwise I was leaving. He threw his ring across the living room and told me to get the f*** out, so I packed my suitcase (with the most random stuff, I just opened it and thought "why did I pack oatmeal but no toothbrush??") and left. As I was walking out the door, his parents called and he answered the phone like everything was cool, I heard him say "Hey, what's up?" as I was walking out. When I was loading my suitcase, he ran out and said his parents wanted to talk to me. I guess my dad called them, which I'm kind of embarrassed about, I didn't ask him to, but he was frustrated and concerned. But anyways, I talked to them for about 20 minutes, explained to them what he's been doing, and they *completely* supported me which is a huge relief. They don't think ill of me at all, they just want me to be happy and safe, even if that means leaving. So I brought the phone back to Sean so he could talk to them, he threw it at the wall, and knocked over a glass end table which broke all over the floor. He was getting in my face about the fact that I'd told my dad about our problems (he would prefer I not talk to my dad at all, he wants to be the only man in my life), and kept blocking my way. But I got past, walked out, and here I sit at Motel 6. With oatmeal but no toothbrush.
I have since talked to his parents, and they said they couldn't talk any sense into him, but maybe he'll be chilled out tomorrow. Whatever if he is, I'm more or less done with it either way. I also talked to my dad again, and he was proud and relieved that I got out. He said that I could tell Sean that we could settle it like adults with a clean easy divorce, or I could tell him that my father would be thrilled to unleash the legal dogs of war if he wanted to be an butthole about it. I hate to hide behind daddy or anything, but I'm feeling vindictive, and I like the thought of it. I don't want his money, I just like the idea of retribution right now.
I'm pretty much freaked out at the moment, but strangely calm. I can't quite process what a massive clusterfunk my life is at this moment, but I feel relieved and empowered. I'm going between shaking, sobbing, giggling maniacally to myself that I packed my oatmeal, and yet I still feel calmer and more at peace than I have in months. I feel exhausted, terrified, heartbroken, but I always come back to relieved.
Major MAJOR props if you read all that. Or even just skimmed. Any words of encouragement or wisdom would be much appreciated. I used the last bit of my energy and bravery to get myself out, and I'll have to muster up some more to deal with the days to come.