Happy Thanksgiving; Not So Much...

For Thanksgiving we got invited to have dinner with some of his friends. I knew there would be one other military wife there, but mostly it would be a bunch of other Marines. I knew immediately that this was going to be a bad situation. He always acted crazy around other Marines, as if he had just cause to not trust me. I always wondered why he didn't trust me; after all he was the one that cheated, not me. Alright, I did cheat, but I never got caught.... and it was before we actually got married. He had no idea, so therefore he had no technical reason to distrust me. I never flirted around with other men, and I never acted out in any way to make another man flirt with me. I was always very quite and most of the time didn't even make eye contact with other Marines; I tried to avoid all interaction and conversation as well. I did my best to only speak to the wives, but often his friends would politely try to include me in the conversation. Although I truly appreciated their kindness, it was guaranteed to cause me more grief in the end. I had been through this kind of situation with him way too many times before. I wanted to stay home so badly because I knew it would be a painful, embarrassing, and disastrous situation for me. However, staying home was not an option. He promised me this time things would be different; that he would behave and treat me properly. The entire ride to his friends house I felt sick to my stomach. I was doing my best to emotionally prepare myself for what I was about to endure. After arriving we went through the typical meeting and greeting of everyone, which was expected, that was the only social interaction that I was permitted. After introductions I spent most of my time in the kitchen with the other wife helping with dinner, and all the female duties that were expected. Things were going quite well until we all gathered together for dinner. Once seated everyone began talking and often times I got addressed. I had never met any of these people before and they were all curious of the who, what, when, where, and why of me. I tried to respond as politely as I could without really conversing. It was not enough, I began receiving crude comments and vicious looks from my husband. Although I truly had done nothing wrong, somehow I was still in trouble. He began verbally degrading and humiliating me very loudly in front of everyone. Saying things to the other Marines like: "She's easy, just take her upstairs and she will show you all a good time" and "She's nothing but a whore anyway." The verbal abuse and devaluing lasted for several hours. Although it was totally expected of him I could never understand how or why it happened. It was like someone flipped a switch and he would just go from typical husband to psychopath instantly. Nothing he said made sense and he would act totally irrational about everything. The craziest part was no one ever said anything, they would all just sit there silently. I quickly realized that this was acceptable behavior, it was the norm in the world of the Marines. Up to this point every other wife I had met, if brave enough to talk about her life and relationship, confessed she was abused.

Eventually we left his friend house and began the trip home. I was emotionally drained and anxious to get home. Although I knew the abuse would continue, at least the group humiliation experience would be over; at least this particular one anyway. Once we got home he apologized for all of his cruel and hurtful behavior. It was the typical "It will not happen ever again," "I am so sorry," and "I love you and I just don't want to lose you." After repeated incidents such as this one I did not believe a word of anything he said, but I would pretend to buy it just so I would not have to endure any further torture. The drama appeared to be over, I was hoping he would just pass out and I would be home free. Then he tried to have sex with me and I refused. After all he had just put me through the last thing I wanted to do was give myself to him, or be close to him in anyway. I knew my refusal would undoubtedly cost me a beating. The verbal abuse was almost instantaneous. As I begged and pleaded for him to "just please leave me alone and let me go to sleep," he became more aggressive and more violent. He got up out of bed and began throwing things at me and punching the walls. I got up and went into the other room to try and avoid any further conflict, but he followed. At times I could just ignore him and take it all, agreeing and playing along just to make it stop. Other times I just could not compromise myself any further and I would scream the brutal honest truth of my unhappiness at him.

I'd had enough this particular night and I proceeded to tell him the brutal truth. I revealed to him that the only reason I was still there is because I had no way of getting out; I was too far from home and I had no friends or resources to help me. I ignorantly but honestly shouted out "I want a divorce, I am unhappy." He completely snapped. He charged at me, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me up against the wall. I hit the wall so hard it knocked the wind out of me, I was crying and knew my actions would have severe consequences. He got right in my face and began screaming, "I will kill you before I ever let you leave me." I foolishly replied, " I don't love you anymore." He then hit me several times, spit directly in my face, and slammed me against the wall again. Only this time he was not letting go, he kept squeezing harder and harder. I could feel myself getting faint and I began kicking trying to get him to let go. I couldn't breathe, I was getting really scared. That's the last thing I remember, until waking up in the floor with him standing over top of me crying. When I awoke I was disoriented and unsure of how I ended up in the floor. For a few moments I could not remember anything. He was crying and hugging me, apologizing as usual. Once I gained my senses enough to realize what had really happened I pushed him away. I hated him, I didn't want him anywhere near me. My refusal of him and his apology angered him and he snapped again. He grabbed me by the hair and drug me across the floor into the kitchen. I was fighting to get back on my feet, but quickly figured out it didn't matter how much I struggled I would never gain the upper hand. As I lay in the floor crying I could hear him shuffling through the kitchen drawers. Then suddenly he yanked me up off the floor by my hair and held a kitchen knife to my throat. He cornered me against the sink with it; at the same time shouting "I can end this all right now." He began pressing it harder and harder against my throat, I could feel it beginning to cut me. I kept trying to lean backward into the sink to get away, but he kept pushing harder and harder. I screamed, "Please don't kill me, I love you." He stopped, threw the knife in the sink, grabbed me by the hair, and threw me into the floor. At this point I was not sure which was hurting more, my injuries from the beatings or my pride from having to compromise my true feelings in order to survive. I hated him more and more with each moment, so much that it literally made me sick to have to say the words "I Love You" to him. As I lay on the kitchen rug, crying with my hands over my head, he knelt down over top of me and began trying to touch me. I immediately said, "Leave me alone." He ignored me and continued trying to touch and talk to me. Again I shouted, "Go away, leave me alone." He grabbed me by the back of the hair, slammed my head against the kitchen floor, and screamed "You fucking bitch I should have just killed you." Then he got up and walked away, leaving the room entirely. Just as quickly as it all had begun, it was suddenly over. I continued to lay on the floor crying; my head throbbing and spinning.

I slept in the kitchen floor that night. I wanted to remain as far away from him as I possibly could. I truly and honestly hated him. Any feelings that I may have once had for him had literally been beaten out of me. I knew that I didn't want to be with him anymore, but I had no way to escape. I always dreamt of the day that I could somehow gain control and take my own life back; the day that I could once again be free to be alive without being punished for it.