The Monster in My Marriage

This is p̶r̶o̶b̶a̶b̶l̶y̶ one of the hardest things I've ever written about.

My hands are shaking and I have this awful knot in the bottom of my stomach as I type.

But I know this is something that NEEDS to be shared.

Maybe some of you know me, maybe we're an online acquaintance, or maybe you've just stumbled across this blog. So let me give you the quick rundown in case you've missed anything:

Hi my name is Sara. 

I have 2 boys (ages 5 and 3).

I'm currently pregnant.

& I walked away from my marriage.

How's that for getting straight to the point and dropping a bombshell?

I want to tell you about something today: The Monster in my Marriage.

And no: it's not what / who you think:.

It wasn't my husband. 

First I'm going to have to take you back to the beginning. 

Let's go back to Creative Writing Class in High School. 

There was this guy who sat in front of me: "Rebel Rob" is what everyone called him.

He was the class adrenaline junkie and lived on the edge.  Some people were scared of him: I was fascinated by him.  And one day as he turned back to hand me some papers he knocked over my Pumpkin Spice Cappucino. 

That's how Rob and I said our first words to each other.

Then a couple times when he was expelled and I was skipping school we met up for pizza in a parking lot and he unwillingly came with as I bought yet another pair of shoes.

Shortly after graduation he shipped off to go to bootcamp and join the Army while I prepared myself for college.  We exchanged letters.  Then I got pregnant at age 19 and he got deployed.

We still kept in contact and I remember getting a random phone call one day and it was Rob.  As a single-mom with a newborn I probably should've used the time to sleep; but instead I sat out on the balcony of my apartment and he and I talked for hours.  That's how it went: he started calling every day & we would just talk and talk.  He quickly became my best friend: he could tell that I was having a rough day simply by a text message and he ALWAYS took time out for me.  He always answered his phone no matter what; even if it meant pulling over so he was late for work (AND GOT IN TROUBLE!)  But at that point I don't think either one of us had developed any "feelings" for the other... we were just friends.

So when he took leave to come up to our hometown in Wisconsin; naturally I wasn't expecting what happened next.  I remember him pulling into my dad's driveway.  It was mid-July and he was wearing khaki shorts, a white shirt, tan hat, and "man flops".  This was a 180 degree difference from the ripped jeans, cut-off shirt, bandana-wearing badass I remembered from a year-and-a-half before.  I remember pulling my phone out and texting my friend, "OMG .... ROB'S HOT!"  He got to meet Christopher who was only a couple months old at the time and then he and I went out to lunch. 

In August I started to get burnt out from weeks of zero sleep, no help, AND trying to go to school in my spare time.  Then Christopher wound up needing emergency surgery in a life-or-death situation and I stayed in his hospital room at his bedside fr 5 days.  I didn't shower.  Barely ate: I was drained.  Then Rob offered to fly me down to Texas for Labor Day Weekend so we could go to South Padre Island and I accepted.  It was one of the best weekends in my life. I knew I didn't want to ruin our friendship; but we started dating that weekend.  Everything just "clicked" when we were together. I remember thinking a couple months into dating, "I think he could be The One!"

Fast forward to March of 2010. Rob knew there was no way he could take care of me without us getting married and we had talked about it before; but figured there would be no way we could ever save up for a big wedding.... so we decided to get married at the courthouse and have a small ceremony.  It was nice: but looking back now I wish I wish I WISH we would've found a way to do the "big wedding".  To actually have a real proposal.  I can't tell you enough to NEVER GET MARRIED IN A COURTHOUSE!  I had heard that people who do: get divorced.  And at the time I laughed it off with the other wives who had also gotten married in a courthouse.  GUESS WHAT:  every single one of them I knew got divorced.  Now maybe that's not true for you and maybe you got married there and you're doing just fine.... I'm just saying.  

I think this is probably where things started....we got married so fast there was no "planning" involved or romance in how we got married.  It just was the practical thing to do.  Now that's not to say there couldn't have been romance: because when we dated it was absolutely there.  But we weren't thinking like that at the time.  By May 1st I had moved 10 hours away from our hometown in Wisconsin to Fort Riley, KS  in a quadriplex in a congested neighborhood and he went from single & partying on the weekends to married with a child all in less than a month and a half.  

Looking back there's just so many things that contributed to what all happened next.  Hindsight is 20/20. 

A couple days after moving in I started to notice subtle changes but attributed it to stress and the shock of now being married.  Then by the end of the second week I was already in tears wondering if I had made the right decision: the man I thought I knew had seemed to turn angry and shut me out.  The person I was used to talking to every day suddenly just wanted to be alone.  The more he wanted to shut me out the harder I tried to get in: I didn't know better. (Now I know that it only made things worse.)  I noticed anger and started experiencing random outbursts that had me feeling like I was walking on eggshells.  I questioned myself... was it something I was doing? When I tried to talk to him about it; an argument quickly escalated and I was told if I didn't llike it then there was the door.  That was usually the end of our conversation.

We didn't have many friends except for his army buddies who came to the house to drink and my social self who LOVES being around people got very isolated  I didn't know anyone and when I would meet new people there was always something wrong with them and a reason why I / we couldn't hang out with them.  When we were invited to a cookout at the neighbor's who lived in the quadriplex parallel to us across the backyard; he stayed behind and sat in the living room.  I felt so embarassed making excuses as to why he couldn't come (when we could clearly see him from where we were standing).  And so it went: we got invited & I would go but he would stay behind until eventually I just stopped going places because I got tired of making excuses.  It was easier to just not go at all.

Then one time when we got into an argument, it was days before he talked to me.  I literally did not exist to to him: he wouldn't acknowledge my comments, respond, or even look at me.  Five days that went on.  It was heartbreaking. I was feeling so desperate and when I sought advice I was told to "just hang in there" because fighting in the first 6 months was normal and it was just due to adjusting.  ....So I hung in there. 

And it wasn't this all the time, either.  There were days when he would wake up or come home and I would see the man I married: the fun-loving, wonderful man who had been my best friend.  I cherished those days, hours, and minutes.  Those are what kept me holding on.

Then that summer, shortly after finding out I was pregnant with our second,  I experienced the first black-out outburst.  He had gone upstairs and I found him just sitting on our bed staring at the wall and I had no idea why.  I often found him spacing off.... sometimes for hours at a time and afterwards he would often be angry at me for no apparent reason.   The same happened this time.  Only he didn't say a word he just went into our spare bedroom where we had the computer, hunting supplies, & gun cabinet and I remember watching him silently take each of the thirteen rifles and guns out and lay them on top of their respective cases in a line on the floor.  Then he knelt there in front of them and stared.  I finally had the courage to ask what he was doing and he whirled around and slammed the door.  I heard the locks click shut. 

 I had no idea what was going on.

Who do I call? 

I didn't want to call family.  

I didn't want them to know that the wonderful, amazing man I married seemed to have disappeared.

I didn't want them to know I was scared or ot think differently of him because I knew in my heart this wasn't normal for him.  

I didn't want to call people from his unit because they dismissed me prior to that.... telling me it was "normal" and that I was over-reacting. 

Hours went by. 

The dinner I placed outside the door was refused by silence and sat cold on the plate so I picked it up and scraped it into the garbage can. My head was racing.  I tried to act normal for my son; but inside my thoughts just swirled around out-of-control. 

Why?  What's going on?  Where's Rob? What did I do?

So I just went to bed early hoping that in the morning things would be ok.

That's when I heard it. It was already late into the night when I heard,

"F*CK YOU!  SHUT THE F*CK UP!   SHUT THE F*CK UP!  GO TO HELL!"

and other disgruntled obscenities and shouts that I couldn't understand for nearly a minute and a half. 

Nothing explains how I felt except absolute, sheer terror. 

And then there was silence.  

Not the kind of silence that brings peace and calm.

 No... this is the silence that chills you to the core and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.  It's the eerie silence and stillness that you feel before a storm: it filled the air.  

Hot tears streamed down my face as I tiptoed down the hallway.  I was afraid of what was behind the door at the other end of the hall.  I was afraid it would open and I wouldn't know who that person was. I crept into my son's room, grabbed him, and ran back to my bedroom. I remember setting him on the bed as quietly as poissible and then moving every piece of furniture in front of the door. I put a 7-foot-high cabinet there first, followed by a desk, office chair on top of that, and finally a solid pine chest that was filled with at least 50 lbs of blanekts.

I had no idea what to expect; but all I knew is that whoever was behind the door at the other end of the hall was not the person I knew and I was scared to death of him.

My son had no idea what was going on so I just stayed calm.  

"It's going to be fine.  You're just having a sleepover with mommy".  

I tried to sound convincing.  

Now who to call?  I couldn't think of anyone. 

I didn't know anyone else in the area.  So I called my high school best friend from back home.  I just cried. We hadn't talked for months. I didn't  know what to do and she didn't either.  She suggested looking up online and trying to get ahold of a counselor.  So I did. 

I researched symptoms, "anger, outburst, staring, depression" and started reading.

The more I read the more I cried because I found something that described what was happening to my husband and it described everything in our marriage to a "T".

But who to call? 

I had suggested counseling before and my husband had blown a gasket so I certainly didn't want to upset him.  It had to be somebody NOT affiliated with the military.  I didn't want him to find out that I had sought help behind his back.

I found a counselor in town and he did after hours emergency consults. 

I left a message.  Prayed.  And tried to fall asleep.

He called back and asked if I was alright. He told me if it was serious the police needed to be called..... so I told him everything was fine now (even though things were not fine and I was in all actuality barricaded in my own bedroom.)  I couldn't imagine what would happen if my husband saw the police coming & how angry he would be.  Would I look crazy? (I certainly felt crazy).... WAS I just over-reacting?  Was this normal?  Nobody would believe me.  I knew my husband would dismiss it as just a fight and he was needing time alone.  I questioned myself.  Just maybe this was normal.   So I said everything was alright and I made an appointment for ASAP.  

And THAT was my first encounter with the Monster in My Marriage.

No.  The monster wasn't my husband. 

My husband was the one I married: the man who was gentle and loving to a child that wasn't even his own. The man that was my best friend.  The man that I had fallen in love with.  The man that was being plagued by things that I couldn't even imagine.

For so long I felt like I couldn't share any of this: like it had to be hidden like some kind of dirty secret.

I hid it because I didn't want to admit that there was anything wrong. 

I hid it because I didn't want people to think less of my husband and now I realize that THAT is the mentality that continues to keep this monster stuck deep in the corners of seemingly loving homes.

It's the mentality that makes people "hush hush" about seeking help or sharing their experience.

Well I'm done with hush hush.

It's about time we started talking about this more so that it wouldn't have a stigma. 

I hope that by talking about it more; people feel encouraged to get help so that they, their families, spouses, and children no longer have to suffer in silence.

I hope people realize that there is strength in overcoming it; not weakness.

I hope that by overcoming it; more are encouraged to empower others to do the same so that more families can be saved.

The Monster in my Marriage was PTSD 

and it had reared its ugly head for the first time.

Prior to that I had only seen PTSD in a movie and what it looked like.  I thought it was just for veterans from the Vietnam War or a World War.  I figured it was something that happened to other people.  It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this could actually be happening

right here....

right now....

in my own home

.... to my husband. 

Thank you for reading and allowing me to share this with you. 

I hope that in sharing it sheds light that PTSD is a real issue that real people are dealing with right now.

I appreciate all of the feedback, love, support, thoughts, and prayers that my family has always received.

They are always welcome.

- Sara -