The Marriage

Names have been changed for legal reasons. This is my story, the memories I had to get off my chest.

I have many regrets. Many mistakes born out of pure ignorance. I regret marrying Hayden. I regret having children with him. I honestly had no idea marriage would be so hard. Or that people like him, and how he was raised, existed. I was raised in a loving home. My father is the kindest man with my mother being the most supportive wife putting her children’s needs above her own. Hayden's father treats his mother horribly, his mother constantly going behind her husband’s back, because he is always so controlling, to do what she wanted while repetitively apologizing for insignificant “mistakes” for being herself. I believe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I’ve witnessed it. I spent years trying to focus on setting the example by being mild, meek, supportive (like my mother) and forgiving. All those things I was taught that made a good wife. I prayed more, I read scripture more, I did everything I was told would help. It got me nowhere. If anything, it paved the highway for Hayden to treat me and our children the way he did. Abusively. I came to learn about the cycles of emotions my husband would roll through. The last few years leading up to our divorce was the worst of it.

Early in our marriage it started. The heart-breaking times. With our first baby I would wake up every time he cried. Nothing abnormal for a first baby, If he didn’t cry every few hours I would get up anyway to make sure he was okay. I was a little paranoid as a first-time mom. I really wanted the baby closer to me than in the other room. My husband didn’t agree. Apparently my getting up constantly kept Hayden awake and just as sleepless as me. One specific memory when the baby was crying late at night, at about 2-3 months old, I decided to sneak the baby into bed with me and nurse him there. I just needed a little more rest. When I walked into the room the light went on and I had a furious husband standing there. Commanding me to put the baby back in the crib. I refused. He argued, I continued to refuse. I thought he was being ridiculous, and I wasn’t going to give in this time (I usually did give in). He got so upset with me he punched a hole in the wall next to my head while I held the crying baby. That scared me. So, the baby and I slept in the living room instead. He let me know the next day he was sorry, but if I would just listen it would have never gone that far. This was one of his tactics used that had me feeling responsible for his emotions.

Some of those biggest heart aches for me happened after our first child was born. However, during the pregnancy he stopped doing the little things like saying please and thank you. He told me my dinners I tried to make for us were horrible then proceed to make something for himself. He complained about me being lazy when I felt exhausted that day after doing the laundry, cleaning up dishes, and running errands. He would stay up long after I went to bed to watch porn, something he didn’t want me to know about, yet I saw the charges on our cable bill. I was the one trying to balance the budget, and paying those bills made me physically sick. He never admitted to his porn viewing unless he was caught red handed. There were too many times to count were I had to show him the evidence of what I found and many times he made me feel crazy. There were a few instances where I found him on dating apps and having conversations with women the last few years leading up to the divorce. Of course this was my fault for not giving him what he needed. This only contributed the "ugly, not good enough" feelings that seeded deep inside my soul. Today I struggle with comparison, inadequacies, and the idea that if a man shows me positive attention I think there is something wrong with that man; "who would want me? Only the one's who are crazy" I would think to myself. 

At one time his parents were coming to visit us from Arizona. We lived in southern California then. I thought it would be a great opportunity to take them on a popular hike to a famous oasis near our town in the high desert. I told Hayden about it and he said sure. I was excited. The day they came (only a few days after our conversation) I asked Hayden when we should go. He looked at me and said “I have no idea what you mean. I didn’t agree to that." My heart sunk deep in my chest, I knew he was lying. Why would he lie? This convenient “forgetting” seemed to grow more frequent throughout the marriage. A culmination of things one would call “little” seemed to take over our doomed relationship.

Before the birth of our son we bought a video camera. Our first one. He let me believe it was for the new baby and future family stuff. After our son was born I was videotaping him. Hayden came into the room and was very upset that I was recording over his hunting video he took of his friend shooting a pig with a bow. You could hear him in the background getting upset and I, being very aware of the camera recording and surprised he had already used the tape, said in a playful voice, “but it’s our son." After watching the video years later, it still triggers me with anger that I played it off. Constantly making excuses for him. Constantly feeling embarrassed when his anger would become visible to others. Why couldn’t he buy a separate tape for his special hunting videos? Why was it my fault when we had agreed to use it for family? I didn’t even know he had used the only tape we had.

On one such embarrassing occasion we were at home the day before Christmas, Hayden was raising his voice (a daily occurrence). I don’t even remember what it was about this time. I do remember the knock on the door and feeling so embarrassed they could have heard him. It was Christmas carolers, and as I opened the door I could see they were trying to pretend they didn’t hear anything. They sang their hearts out that night. It didn’t help the mood.

There were several instances when Hayden would get upset with the kids. When my son was a baby, about 8 months old, he was crying in his bed. I wanted to go nurse him back to sleep like I usually did. Hayden decided it was time to try and wean the baby off the breast. I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to breast feed my babies as long as I could. However, I wanted to be a “good wife” too, so I laid there listening to the cries. Feeling overwhelmed. After about 45 minutes of listening, Hayden got up went into the other room and spanked the baby. I counted each spank. Seven times in rapid succession. I thought one little swat would have been just fine but seven?! I only imagine the baby had no idea why he was being hurt. I was mortified he would do that. As Hayden crawled back into bed he said, “I feel better." The baby was still crying, in fact the baby was hysterical. I wondered how is it that he could feel better when all he did was make it worse? I was so upset. I got out of bed. Picked the baby up and took him down stairs where we slept the rest of the night.

In the past I had always made sure Birthdays were celebrated. They have always been a big deal, Hayden knew this. He even said how he liked that about me when we were dating... Talk about false advertising! The whole marriage he never helped out or planned birthdays. I had sought advise on how to get my husband to reciprocate the tradition, something he seemed to intentionally refuse to do. I kept getting the same advice from different people. They said that men are dumb, and you have to just tell them what, when, and where. I took their advice and did that. I gave him options of days we could celebrate so he could see what worked best with his schedule. I told him exactly what I wanted and how I had planned to be able to do it. I had arranged for my mother to take the kids and everything. Even with reminders, he never put the effort in to take time off work or tell his friends he was busy. He made excuses that he had to help a friend, coworker, or take the extra hours to work. These excuses came last minute when it was too late to do anything about.

One of my most recent birthdays before the divorce, I got up that day hoping in my heart that my husband would do something special. I don’t know why I hoped for this, he never did do anything. I think I knew in the back of my mind nothing would come of it. Just another day to get through. I really was wondering how bad it would be this time. Would he pretend not to remember even though I brought it up several times over the last few weeks? Would he make an excuse that someone else needed his time, solidifying the implication that I am insignificant (a common practice)? I made comments the last few weeks that it would be nice to come home to a clean house and happy kids. Simple wishes that weren’t expensive or outrageous is all I really wanted. Maybe some quality time and attention, something that never happened. I really didn’t think I was hard to please.

I got off work early and rushed home. I prepped dinner for the kids and then took a shower. I put on my nice clothes, as if I was going out or something, then did my hair and makeup. He came home, he didn’t work that day. I wasn’t sure what he was doing or where he went. I seemed to only be privileged to that kind of information on occasion. I greeted him with a smile and a hug when he walked in the door. He promptly went into the room, laid on the bed and started watching hunting videos on his phone. I quietly sat on the chair next to the door by the room. I got on social media to buy my time while I patiently waited for him to get the motivation to say something like, “you look nice, let’s celebrate your birthday!”. After an hour I looked at him and asked if he wanted to do anything. He put his hand over his head and said he had a headache. I tried not to be too upset about it, but I still cried myself to sleep. Another excuse to ignore me I suppose. These are just a few of the small examples of very common things that became chronic and laid the foundation of my marriage for 18 years.

Another recent event before the divorce was a time when I got my first credit card. I was shopping at Costco and heard about the great deal for the card. I never had a credit card before and thought maybe now that I’m a 38-year-old woman I should get one. I might need credit one day. Plus, we get cash back on purchases I’m making anyway. What a deal. A week prior to my signing up with the credit card my husband was upset I bought school clothes and supplies with the extra money he received from his drill weekend with the reserves. We had discussed the kids needing clothes and supplies for school, I thought we had agreed to get the stuff as soon as we could. However, that didn’t turn out to be the case. He was planning on using that drill money for hunting weekend with the guys. Something he conveniently left out of our discussion. I came home after picking the kids up from school and he laid into me, no questions, just very loud yelling and blaming about spending the money.

I refused to talk to him until he calmed down, I walked into the bedroom and closed the door. I locked it behind me. The kids standing there looking scared, watched as their dad tried to kick the door in. The door frame cracked so I unlocked it to prevent further damage to the house. We of course had an argument, he didn’t understand how our children were more important than his trips with the guys. The trips he took four, sometimes five times a year. I never went out with the girls for weekends at a time. I couldn’t. He used that money and time for his hobby. Even if that meant our kids had to wear clothes too small. He was very good at making me feel guilty for any leisure activity he didn’t want me to do, or that would take away from HIS plans.

I didn’t want to tell him about the credit card. He told me on that day he tried to kick the door in that he wanted separate bank accounts. I went and opened my own account with a separate bank the next day. I thought maybe he’s right. Now I could get my student loans deposited into my account and he won’t be able to buy a boat motor with it like he did the last time. He found out about the credit card a few weeks later. He retaliated by not speaking to me unless he had something demeaning to say about what I was or wasn’t doing. He was never without criticism. This lasted several weeks. I now knew why his mother did the things she did behind her husband’s back.

Hayden was weeding the garden one morning, trying to avoid being around me I believe, and I wanted to go for my daily walk. I told him I was going on my walk and he mumbled under his breath, “okay, hope you get hit by a car.” I ignored it. Like I ignored many of his comments he made over the years and everything he did that was inappropriate behavior for a husband. For example, comments that have stuck with me include put-downs about my body, mostly made when we were supposed to be “making love”, not something I would call love. Usually when this happened I would close my eyes and wish he would hurry up and get it over with, I shouldn’t have ignored what he said to me. There came a point that when or if he said those three words I only felt anger and disgust for him. I realized his idea of love was not the same as mine and because of this I could no longer let myself be guided by the manipulation for the desire of love, the kind of love that he was incapable of having for another human being.

Often times, when the kids were young, when Hayden come home from work he would ask what happened that day. I was a stay at home mom for the early years of my children’s lives. Too often my son would do something and get in trouble by me. He was a typical curious little boy. Out of frustration I would tell Hayden about it. I should never have done this. Hayden would feel the need to discipline our son again. He would say, “your mom didn’t do a good enough job." I realize now this only taught our children to ignore me, but if dad says it then they would do it out of fear. Any attempt I had at teaching my children became treated like “hearsay”. In one ear and out the other, insignificant. I remember making excuses to my son when his dad would overreact while disciplining.

As Hayden dealt out the rules, regulations, and restrictions with consequences he would flick my son in the head as hard as he could or squeeze the back of his neck. Hayden would say things like, “I’m gonna box your ears boy." He often started a sentence with the word “son” in a condescending tone- derogatory like. As if he was putting him down for just being his son- like he had a choice in it. He had that tone of voice indicating, “you belong to me." I have learned that the best place for discipline is a safe place that encourages the desire to listen and learn from mistakes. Unfortunately this acquired knowledge of mine has come very late in the game. My kids are teenagers now and there is lots of unhealthy thinking that contributes to shaming that I feel overwhelmed in my attempts to teach them the things that could help them make reasonable and responsible life choices.

There came a point in my kids lives where I was the referee in the "disciplining" that went on. When the verbal shaming and physical punishment became too much I tried my best to intervene and help my kids dad see how his approach and actions weren't teaching them anything other than how to throw a fit over "spilled milk" so to say. He then turned his anger on me and blamed me for the bad behavior or choices they made. The few years leading up to the divorce I decided I couldn't join him or condone in anyway the little things Hayden would have a fit about. I also realized I wasn't doing anyone any favors by trying to fill the holes Hayden drilled into his relationships with his kids. As he made our children feel more and more insecure and diminished he would do it without my help. It ripped a hole in my heart to see Hayden treat my precious children as being one of the least important people in his life. Seeing the frustration his children had with him as they only wished for him to understand them, be crushed over and over again.

We went to counseling several times. We spoke to clergy with our church for help and resources. Read many marriage and parenting books. I was told that I wasn’t doing enough in the bedroom for my husband. I was told I needed to not be so critical of him and forgive him. I was told I wasn’t praying enough or worthy enough to receive the blessing I needed from my husband… I didn’t know being treated nice was a blessing. When I say nice I mean treated like a human being who had feelings and was significant, that was the least I hoped for. For some reason the blame always landed on my shoulders. This was reiterated and used in his arguments against me. He used it to his advantage in every opportunity he had to try and manipulate me. I tried with every belief in my heart to follow all the suggestions, in the bedroom and out of it. It came to a point where I couldn’t look at my husband and feel love for him. The love I wanted so desperately but I knew he was incapable of.

The first time I refused to have intercourse with him I told him, “I can’t show love to someone who treats me and my children the way you do.” Hayden scornfully remarked, “you are my wife, it is your duty!”. Then I was at fault again. In my early twenties, even early thirties, I believed this rhetoric. After 17 years of hearing it and seeing the cycle continue, I stopped believing it. I knew I couldn’t do anything to change him. It was like my "Aha" moment realizing I wasn't to blame for his actions and feelings. He was never happy with me or the kids, always finding fault with something. I would often wonder how long would this phase last? How far will it have to go before I know I can’t take it anymore? When will I know divorce is okay? The goal posts in our marriage seem to change daily. I felt as though I was walking on egg shells. He had to want change for himself, he had to recognize it was needed. I also knew that I was so far broken from the years of maltreatment that I didn’t believe change was possible for “us”. The “sorry” he often spouted when in the honeymoon phase, or what I like to call the “oh shit you’re serious” phase, became completely meaningless.

There were a lot of things in my upbringing I believed contributed to my naivety. For one, no one is like my parents. They do have the most ideal relationship. I felt this was normal however, I've learned it is rare. I was brought up very religious and taught all I had to do was be a good daughter of God and He would bless me with a prince. I was also taught that getting married and having children is what God wanted me to do and was the focus of my existence. Within the church culture the implication is if you aren't married by 21 you are a reject, like there is something wrong with you. The pressure to marry was intense. I met Hayden when I was 20. I felt like "old meat" in the "eternal companion" game. We knew each other for a few months before we were engaged. We married only 5 months after that. I met his family once for a few days during Christmas. They were on their best behavior and no red flags came up. Even if they did come up I doubt I would have recognized them as being red flags. I had so much hope for the best and thought all we needed was love for things to workout. I was wrong. I've come to the realization that this method was the worst possible way for me personally to have a healthy relationship, if such a thing really even exists today.

I felt like I knew we were going to divorce long before I accepted it as the only choice left to make. I saw how it was affecting our children and I knew I couldn’t continue with the toxic example I was setting. About a year before the divorce was final, while driving, I thought about how blatantly bad Hayden was becoming in his emotional abuse. I could no longer ignore it. I realized if my daughter came to me complaining of the same red flags in a relationship I would never tell her to try and work it out. I would advocate for her to be strong in setting boundaries and knowing when change is impossible. I felt I never had an advocate in the disparities I faced on a daily basis. Initially I complained to my mom who would chalk it up to learning to live together. Then it was the church clergy who gave Hayden the tools to be more manipulative and controlling. I stopped complaining and started trying to make it better. Trying to be better, to do better, it was never enough.

I grew up being taught divorce was a very bad thing. I was led to believe divorce was the reason for messed up people. I was told it would be worse for myself and my children if I ever got a divorce. I was taught by those I loved and trusted to fear divorce and that it is a sin, which was added to my long list of things wrong with me for wanting one. Something I needed to repent of I was told. After seeing how bad of an example I was being to my children and subjecting them to the horrors of a toxic relationship, I knew I was lied to. Divorce became the best and most unselfish choice I could ever make for my children and for myself. There was no way I could explain to my church leaders or those around me how important getting a divorce was for the emotional and physical survival of me and my children.

No one ever gets married thinking they will get a divorce. No matter how bad it got I never wanted to be the one to initiate the separation. However, it became evident that I would have to do it when I could clearly see Hayden would only get worse. If I stayed he would have only become more controlling and physically abusive. At times I wished he would have just hit me, to get it over with. Then I would know for a surety that I could leave. The emotional turmoil I was constantly in, never ended. I had to be the strong one and get out. To set the example I wish I would have been shown. For my children, showing them that they too should never be treated the way their father treated us. It was not okay. It will never be okay. Ever!

~ JRP