There were other signs. That's easy to say and it's not as if I didn't notice them when they happened. But what did they mean?
My husband often took credit for things I did. When I wrote an article for the base paper but never submitted it, he did...but with his name on the byline. When I discovered a new band or some off-beat TV show, he could be heard telling his friends about the cool new things he discovered. When I protested he said, "Everybody does it."
When I designed home improvement projects, picked out the tile, the paint, and the fixtures, he let people praise him without mentioning my part in it. When I protested he said, "WE did it, honey, WE did it," meaning, when he got credit it applied to both of us.
It often seemed he didn't have a personal style but relied on my style to give him substance. I thought he just needed more praise for the things he did. I praised him often. I told him I adored him. I noted how hard he worked, how he didn't drink, smoke, or gamble. How good he was with money and how kind to animals. It was never enough. He sought out people so he could show them how cool he was.
Most bothersome were the times he would talk to me about work issues and I would make suggestions about how I thought things should be done or not done. Often he ran with my ideas and the next thing I knew, he was being rewarded for some change he had instituted but I had developed. I didn't mind because he was the one who put words into action, but shouldn't he have mentioned me as a partner? We both worked in the same area, in the same career field. I would not have instituted a subordinate's idea without giving him or her credit.
The integrity of this bothered me. But life was so busy. Surely this was just a quirk and not an indication of my beautiful husband's values.
30 March 2011
26 March 2011
Life, Depression, and Other Things
I hated my new job. It was a staff position. My boss was an independent retired E9 who never tasked me with anything. Projects would pop up and I would go to him and ask him what the scope of my authority was. He would tell me not to worry about it, he would take care of it. Back to my cubicle I would go to surf the net.
One day an old friend called me and told me a big government contractor was looking for employees and a couple of months later I dropped my retirement paperwork. It was a sudden decision. I had hoped to make E9 but it became apparent that was not going to happen. Better for me to move on. One day in December 2003 I walked across the street to the MPF and told them to start the retirement process. Two months later I was retired and two days after that I started my new job as a civilian.
Two weeks before my retirement, my father died. I had tickets go to visit him. He had been bed-ridden for two years after a severe stroke. I knew he was going downhill. One morning my sister called and asked to speak to my husband. Now that was weird. He was already at work. She called back and told me that she didn't want to be the one to break the news but since she couldn't get hold of my husband she had to. My father was dead. I was heartbroken. I loved my father.
We went home for the funeral. I could hardly bear to see my father's coffin lowered into the dark earth. He was so vital. He was such a child of the sunlight. I said my goodbyes to a wooden box and watched a lay minister giggle during the service because he forgot the words. The priest was too busy for my father's funeral.
It was hard learning about life in the civilian world. Fortunately most big contractors are made up of retired military so the transition was a bit easier. The job was challenging but I slipped into depression and I could feel it dragging me down. Menopause crept up on me. Hot flashes signaled the end of my life as a fertile and desirable female. I stopped exercising and gained weight.
I wondered every morning why I bothered to get up. Nothing was important anymore. I had no more inspections to prepare for. No classified to protect. No training to take or conduct. No performance reports to write. No airmen to counsel. No promotion test to prepare for. No deadlines. No commander demanding immediate talking papers. No crisis to avert. No free world to keep safe. God that sucked.
But you get up every morning and you find solace and satisfaction in the things you can. I made a good salary. Better than I ever expected to make in my life. My husband I went back to Italy. I traveled on work to Germany. It got better. Not great but better.
In 2005 my husband retired. He had reached high year of tenure and had to. He missed E9 by only a few points. He was devastated. I was angry at him. He got a job with the DoD and left the physical work of weapons maintenance behind. He traded his uniform for a suit and a cubicle in a dark office in a secure building. I worried about him. I knew that office. I knew those people. It was a soul killing place to me but he told me he liked it.
Less than a year later....
One day an old friend called me and told me a big government contractor was looking for employees and a couple of months later I dropped my retirement paperwork. It was a sudden decision. I had hoped to make E9 but it became apparent that was not going to happen. Better for me to move on. One day in December 2003 I walked across the street to the MPF and told them to start the retirement process. Two months later I was retired and two days after that I started my new job as a civilian.
Two weeks before my retirement, my father died. I had tickets go to visit him. He had been bed-ridden for two years after a severe stroke. I knew he was going downhill. One morning my sister called and asked to speak to my husband. Now that was weird. He was already at work. She called back and told me that she didn't want to be the one to break the news but since she couldn't get hold of my husband she had to. My father was dead. I was heartbroken. I loved my father.
We went home for the funeral. I could hardly bear to see my father's coffin lowered into the dark earth. He was so vital. He was such a child of the sunlight. I said my goodbyes to a wooden box and watched a lay minister giggle during the service because he forgot the words. The priest was too busy for my father's funeral.
It was hard learning about life in the civilian world. Fortunately most big contractors are made up of retired military so the transition was a bit easier. The job was challenging but I slipped into depression and I could feel it dragging me down. Menopause crept up on me. Hot flashes signaled the end of my life as a fertile and desirable female. I stopped exercising and gained weight.
I wondered every morning why I bothered to get up. Nothing was important anymore. I had no more inspections to prepare for. No classified to protect. No training to take or conduct. No performance reports to write. No airmen to counsel. No promotion test to prepare for. No deadlines. No commander demanding immediate talking papers. No crisis to avert. No free world to keep safe. God that sucked.
But you get up every morning and you find solace and satisfaction in the things you can. I made a good salary. Better than I ever expected to make in my life. My husband I went back to Italy. I traveled on work to Germany. It got better. Not great but better.
In 2005 my husband retired. He had reached high year of tenure and had to. He missed E9 by only a few points. He was devastated. I was angry at him. He got a job with the DoD and left the physical work of weapons maintenance behind. He traded his uniform for a suit and a cubicle in a dark office in a secure building. I worried about him. I knew that office. I knew those people. It was a soul killing place to me but he told me he liked it.
Less than a year later....
All Things Bright and Beautful
My husband is beautiful. He was raised in England but has no accent. He played soccer and American football. He is rugged and has deep blue eyes. He bears scars from a motorcycle accident. His hair is reddish-blonde. His chest is big and powerful. He can be very tender.
My husband can do anything. He can replumb the bathroom. Rewire the house. Weld. Fix the car. He built his own computer. He drinks socially. He does not gamble. He loves the outdoors and hunts. He loves our dogs and would protect them with his life.
My husband is very smart. He can read something once and understand the implications of it. He excels at his job. People like him. He's funny.
My husband can be cruel and I often tell him he has no filter between his brain and his mouth. He can say things that most people just think. I have cringed at his bluntness. But his incredible competence at what he does makes up for his lapses.
My husband and I have remodeled kitchens, bathrooms, yards, and laundry rooms. We've traveled all over the world. We've loved and fought and I loved him almost from the moment I met him.
My husband is also terribly flawed. He was abused as a child. I knew for many years although he never told me. I listened to what he said and I knew. I thought he had learned to cope with it and I did not know enough to understand that trauma of this kind will find a way out. Even when you think you have it stuffed so deep it doesn't bother you anymore, it will come out in boundary issues, in inappropriate behavior, in sexual acting out. I know now. I didn't know then.
My husband can do anything. He can replumb the bathroom. Rewire the house. Weld. Fix the car. He built his own computer. He drinks socially. He does not gamble. He loves the outdoors and hunts. He loves our dogs and would protect them with his life.
My husband is very smart. He can read something once and understand the implications of it. He excels at his job. People like him. He's funny.
My husband can be cruel and I often tell him he has no filter between his brain and his mouth. He can say things that most people just think. I have cringed at his bluntness. But his incredible competence at what he does makes up for his lapses.
My husband and I have remodeled kitchens, bathrooms, yards, and laundry rooms. We've traveled all over the world. We've loved and fought and I loved him almost from the moment I met him.
My husband is also terribly flawed. He was abused as a child. I knew for many years although he never told me. I listened to what he said and I knew. I thought he had learned to cope with it and I did not know enough to understand that trauma of this kind will find a way out. Even when you think you have it stuffed so deep it doesn't bother you anymore, it will come out in boundary issues, in inappropriate behavior, in sexual acting out. I know now. I didn't know then.
23 March 2011
What?
I loved entertaining in my home. I wanted to share what we had with others. One day several old friends from a past assignment called and said they would be in town. I invited them for dinner. My husband was not home. He was traveling on Temporary Duty but I saw no issue in having two men for dinner. We were professionals.
It was a beautiful evening and we sat outside, talked over old times and drank Italian wine. I showed them around the house. When we walked into the office my husband had created my friend took one look and declared, "What is your husband doing, surfing porn? What's with the bunker?"
I was offended and surprised. Yes, what exactly was he doing? This man just gave words to something that had bothered me but been unable to address. I now knew that what nagged at the back of my mind was apparent to someone from outside. I was truly bothered and concerned.
We continued dinner and as several bottles of wine were consumed one of my friends noted he needed to stop so he could drive back to their motel. No need, I said, we have plenty of space right here and they could stay the night. My friend very kindly told me that he would never do that. The appearance of impropriety was not a good idea both for his wife and my husband.
Wow. I thought that was really appropriate. I had seen too many people's marriages fall apart because of loose boundaries between friends. This is how adults behave. They consider the implications and they make decisions based on the consequences. I appreciated this man's comment and felt chastened that I had tried to put him in a position that might appear to be inappropriate. Why was this kind of reasoning missing from my life?
It was a beautiful evening and we sat outside, talked over old times and drank Italian wine. I showed them around the house. When we walked into the office my husband had created my friend took one look and declared, "What is your husband doing, surfing porn? What's with the bunker?"
I was offended and surprised. Yes, what exactly was he doing? This man just gave words to something that had bothered me but been unable to address. I now knew that what nagged at the back of my mind was apparent to someone from outside. I was truly bothered and concerned.
We continued dinner and as several bottles of wine were consumed one of my friends noted he needed to stop so he could drive back to their motel. No need, I said, we have plenty of space right here and they could stay the night. My friend very kindly told me that he would never do that. The appearance of impropriety was not a good idea both for his wife and my husband.
Wow. I thought that was really appropriate. I had seen too many people's marriages fall apart because of loose boundaries between friends. This is how adults behave. They consider the implications and they make decisions based on the consequences. I appreciated this man's comment and felt chastened that I had tried to put him in a position that might appear to be inappropriate. Why was this kind of reasoning missing from my life?
Living a Dream
In 1999 we moved to Italy. It was like a dream. The area was far more beautiful than I ever imagined. My husband had found us a small house at the base of the Dolomiti, the Italian Alps. I stood at the window staring at the peaks that seems to soar out of the fields behind the house. I learned the rules of the road, how to order off a menu, and to shop at the Tuesday market. I discovered what cheese is really supposed to taste like.
Our Italian neighbors were more than wonderful. They included us in family dinners and took us to their home in a tiny village clinging to the side of the mountains for New Years. We drank and ate away our fears over Y2K and the world surivived. I thrived.
Work was a pressure cooker for both us of. Everything in Europe was different. We traveled in the local area and I marveled that this beautiful country was a birthright for the Italians. Our time was not without heartache. We had to have our beloved dog put to sleep after struggling with the Italian veterinarian system to stop his cluster seizures. My husband and I wept together and huddled against the knowledge we had chosen to end his life. It made us draw closer.
We traveled to Germany, France, Rome, and Egypt. It was like living a dream. The best four years of my life...oh, I still kept an eye on my husband. He still behaved inappropriately towards women, often touching them and getting far too familiar. We argued when I brought it up after all, the other guys did these things too. But the other guys were single and their touching sent overt sexual signals. Is this what my husband meant to do? I told myself that he simply was blind to what his actions meant.
People loved my husband. He made friends quickly but very, very few male friends. Still, I never suspected him of anything inappropriate. I was largely the happiest I had ever been in my life. One issue bothered me. My husband set his computer up in the basement of our house and surrounded it like a castle with bookcases. When I entered the basement I could not see what he was doing. I was relatively sure he was not surfing porn becuase Italian porn laws are very strict, but what was up with this bunker mentality? Well, men have to have a man-cave don't they? My husband purchased our first laptop so I could get online without having to go downstairs. It was very cool. I put any concerns out of my mind.
We tried everything to remain overseas but in 2003 the assignment system caught up with us and we returned to the states.
Our time in Italy helped us save some money and along with the money from the sale of our last home, we were able to buy what for me was my dream home. I hated the city we lived in but I loved my house. I filled it with all the things I had collected over the years. We brought our beautiful and unique Italian dog who joined us before we moved and he made the house his. I hated my new job at in a staff position but I loved being surrounded by my personal things. The dresser from my Grandfathers house, pictures of my and my husband's families, dishes, paintings we bought on travels, and all the things that spoke to who we were.
My husband picked a back bedroom for his office and the bunker was set up again. The computer was surrounded by bookcases and I surfed the brand new wireless laptop downstairs.
Our Italian neighbors were more than wonderful. They included us in family dinners and took us to their home in a tiny village clinging to the side of the mountains for New Years. We drank and ate away our fears over Y2K and the world surivived. I thrived.
Work was a pressure cooker for both us of. Everything in Europe was different. We traveled in the local area and I marveled that this beautiful country was a birthright for the Italians. Our time was not without heartache. We had to have our beloved dog put to sleep after struggling with the Italian veterinarian system to stop his cluster seizures. My husband and I wept together and huddled against the knowledge we had chosen to end his life. It made us draw closer.
We traveled to Germany, France, Rome, and Egypt. It was like living a dream. The best four years of my life...oh, I still kept an eye on my husband. He still behaved inappropriately towards women, often touching them and getting far too familiar. We argued when I brought it up after all, the other guys did these things too. But the other guys were single and their touching sent overt sexual signals. Is this what my husband meant to do? I told myself that he simply was blind to what his actions meant.
People loved my husband. He made friends quickly but very, very few male friends. Still, I never suspected him of anything inappropriate. I was largely the happiest I had ever been in my life. One issue bothered me. My husband set his computer up in the basement of our house and surrounded it like a castle with bookcases. When I entered the basement I could not see what he was doing. I was relatively sure he was not surfing porn becuase Italian porn laws are very strict, but what was up with this bunker mentality? Well, men have to have a man-cave don't they? My husband purchased our first laptop so I could get online without having to go downstairs. It was very cool. I put any concerns out of my mind.
We tried everything to remain overseas but in 2003 the assignment system caught up with us and we returned to the states.
Our time in Italy helped us save some money and along with the money from the sale of our last home, we were able to buy what for me was my dream home. I hated the city we lived in but I loved my house. I filled it with all the things I had collected over the years. We brought our beautiful and unique Italian dog who joined us before we moved and he made the house his. I hated my new job at in a staff position but I loved being surrounded by my personal things. The dresser from my Grandfathers house, pictures of my and my husband's families, dishes, paintings we bought on travels, and all the things that spoke to who we were.
My husband picked a back bedroom for his office and the bunker was set up again. The computer was surrounded by bookcases and I surfed the brand new wireless laptop downstairs.
07 March 2011
Storm Warning
There was another event during those first seven years of marriage that made me see my husband differently. I always thought I could count on him when I needed him. He always told me he would be there for me and he never disappointed me. Until one dark and stormy day.
My husband had come down to my duty location for a few days and I followed him back north to our house. Halfway home it began to snow. By time we left the last city behind it was full blown blizzard. I could barely see a few feet in front of my car. But one thing the AF taught me was how to drive in a blizzard and on ice. I had been stationed in some pretty remote spots and I knew how to drive on snow. Besides, my husband was in front of me blazing the way in his four wheel drive Jeep.
The blizzard became so bad I could barely keep up with him. It was almost dark when he began to pull away from me. My windshield wipers could no longer keep up with the snow that was packing on the blades. I slowed to 25mph and watched his tail lights grow dim. I flashed my headlight, I didn't want to be alone out there. If the freeway was closed ahead I would be stuck on the side of the road. If I lost traction and left the road I would be stuck. My cell phone lost coverage. He kept driving and in a few minutes I could no longer see his taillights.
My head ached from the tension of trying to see through the driving snow. The wind gusted against my small car. My hands gripped the wheel as I tried to relax and concentrate on the road. I concentrated on what I knew about driving in bad weather. I squinted into the blizzard trying to make sure I didn't drive up on someone stranded. Slowly taillights appeared and I pulled up on an old pickup driving about 20mph. It had Montana license plates and it doggedly moved forward, never slowing. I kept as far behind as I could and still keep his lights in sight. It grew dark and we just kept moving forward. The world shrank to halo of light around the driving snow and the two dim taillights up ahead.
I recognized the rocks that marked the state line. Only about 15 more miles to go. I had to try and reach around the window to knock snow off the windshield. I thought about stopping and clearing the snow but I was afraid I would not be able to get traction again. There was the weigh station. Eight more miles. The first entrance into town. The truck and I hadn't seen any other vehicles. Should I take the outer road home? The visibility would be low. Should I take the in-town exit? Snow might be packed up at the intersections.
I took the exit into town thinking that if I got stuck at least I could knock on someone's door. The truck from Montana kept heading north. I wished the driver well and thanked him for making me feel less alone. My car slowly made it's way through the snowy streets drifting over now. I hit the low hills before my subdivision and tried to keep a steady speed so I wouldn't lose traction. The last two intersections before home were heavily drifted over. I plowed through them and managed to stay on the road. My driveway! My home! I was exhausted. My head felt like it was going to explode.
I walked into my house, warm and well lit. My husband getting some food in the kitchen smiled a welcome to me. I burst into tears.
What's wrong, he asked. I didn't know what to say. Why did you drive off and leave me? Leave you, he said. You know how to drive in the snow. I couldn't help you. The Jeep couldn't go that slow. I figured if you got stuck someone could call me at home. No sense both of us being stuck. You're OK. You made it. I was too tired to be angry. Fuck you, I said. Just go fuck yourself. A good offense always being the best defense my husband turned away and launched into his favorite tirade. I guess everything is my fault! It's my fault it snowed! And then he pouted. He scowled at his feet. He slumped onto the couch. He pouted. I cried out of sheer frustration and exhaustion.
Like all things in my life if given enough time things eventually look better or disappear. This did too. But the fact is he drove off and left me.
My husband had come down to my duty location for a few days and I followed him back north to our house. Halfway home it began to snow. By time we left the last city behind it was full blown blizzard. I could barely see a few feet in front of my car. But one thing the AF taught me was how to drive in a blizzard and on ice. I had been stationed in some pretty remote spots and I knew how to drive on snow. Besides, my husband was in front of me blazing the way in his four wheel drive Jeep.
The blizzard became so bad I could barely keep up with him. It was almost dark when he began to pull away from me. My windshield wipers could no longer keep up with the snow that was packing on the blades. I slowed to 25mph and watched his tail lights grow dim. I flashed my headlight, I didn't want to be alone out there. If the freeway was closed ahead I would be stuck on the side of the road. If I lost traction and left the road I would be stuck. My cell phone lost coverage. He kept driving and in a few minutes I could no longer see his taillights.
My head ached from the tension of trying to see through the driving snow. The wind gusted against my small car. My hands gripped the wheel as I tried to relax and concentrate on the road. I concentrated on what I knew about driving in bad weather. I squinted into the blizzard trying to make sure I didn't drive up on someone stranded. Slowly taillights appeared and I pulled up on an old pickup driving about 20mph. It had Montana license plates and it doggedly moved forward, never slowing. I kept as far behind as I could and still keep his lights in sight. It grew dark and we just kept moving forward. The world shrank to halo of light around the driving snow and the two dim taillights up ahead.
I recognized the rocks that marked the state line. Only about 15 more miles to go. I had to try and reach around the window to knock snow off the windshield. I thought about stopping and clearing the snow but I was afraid I would not be able to get traction again. There was the weigh station. Eight more miles. The first entrance into town. The truck and I hadn't seen any other vehicles. Should I take the outer road home? The visibility would be low. Should I take the in-town exit? Snow might be packed up at the intersections.
I took the exit into town thinking that if I got stuck at least I could knock on someone's door. The truck from Montana kept heading north. I wished the driver well and thanked him for making me feel less alone. My car slowly made it's way through the snowy streets drifting over now. I hit the low hills before my subdivision and tried to keep a steady speed so I wouldn't lose traction. The last two intersections before home were heavily drifted over. I plowed through them and managed to stay on the road. My driveway! My home! I was exhausted. My head felt like it was going to explode.
I walked into my house, warm and well lit. My husband getting some food in the kitchen smiled a welcome to me. I burst into tears.
What's wrong, he asked. I didn't know what to say. Why did you drive off and leave me? Leave you, he said. You know how to drive in the snow. I couldn't help you. The Jeep couldn't go that slow. I figured if you got stuck someone could call me at home. No sense both of us being stuck. You're OK. You made it. I was too tired to be angry. Fuck you, I said. Just go fuck yourself. A good offense always being the best defense my husband turned away and launched into his favorite tirade. I guess everything is my fault! It's my fault it snowed! And then he pouted. He scowled at his feet. He slumped onto the couch. He pouted. I cried out of sheer frustration and exhaustion.
Like all things in my life if given enough time things eventually look better or disappear. This did too. But the fact is he drove off and left me.
05 March 2011
Seven Years Under the Mast
Looking back I wonder just what I was thinking. I had ample proof something was going on with my husband. I had resources; a job, a future, family. I should have been able to stop this cycle. I should have had the confidence and the self-esteem to walk away from whatever was driving my husband. I knew exactly what was going on.
My husband became more and more enamored of the computer. He played video games into the night. I didn't know much about the Internet until I was transferred south. There I had time to surf and I soon discovered the vast Internet porn industry. When I returned home on weekends I found porn on my husband's computer. I found chat sites and contact he had made with local women. He had excuses for all these things but in reality, it didn't matter. I didn't want to know. I didn't want accept that my husband could not stay away from sex.
Our sex life was wonderful. He was a dedicated lover who paid attention to what I wanted. We had a rich and colorful fantasy life. But as the years moved on I began to have concerns about the fantasies. During sex he would ask me if I would promise to make the fantasies come true. I would say yes, knowing I never intended to. He would push, promise me you'll sleep with someone else. Promise me you'll wear something see-through out to dinner. He brought home huge amounts of lingerie. He pushed me wear revealing clothing even though I knew I would look ridiculous. I didn't want to do these things but I enjoyed fantasizing about it during sex and I wanted to make him happy.
Still, I began to feel creepy about our fantasy life and I began to pull back from sex with my husband. The more I pulled back, the more he pushed. I didn't like it but I thought I could control it.
In 1999 we received orders to Italy. All my concerns were pushed to the back as I worked toward selling the house, packing up our belongings, and getting all the military requirements done before we left. My husband moved to Italy six months before I did leaving me to sell the house from three hours away. I took our dog to my apartment at my duty station and finished my work while preparing to move. This was a good time for me. My husband was 5,000 miles away. I couldn't worry about him. He called me and told me he missed me and loved me. I missed him. And I loved him with all my heart. I adored him.
My husband became more and more enamored of the computer. He played video games into the night. I didn't know much about the Internet until I was transferred south. There I had time to surf and I soon discovered the vast Internet porn industry. When I returned home on weekends I found porn on my husband's computer. I found chat sites and contact he had made with local women. He had excuses for all these things but in reality, it didn't matter. I didn't want to know. I didn't want accept that my husband could not stay away from sex.
Our sex life was wonderful. He was a dedicated lover who paid attention to what I wanted. We had a rich and colorful fantasy life. But as the years moved on I began to have concerns about the fantasies. During sex he would ask me if I would promise to make the fantasies come true. I would say yes, knowing I never intended to. He would push, promise me you'll sleep with someone else. Promise me you'll wear something see-through out to dinner. He brought home huge amounts of lingerie. He pushed me wear revealing clothing even though I knew I would look ridiculous. I didn't want to do these things but I enjoyed fantasizing about it during sex and I wanted to make him happy.
Still, I began to feel creepy about our fantasy life and I began to pull back from sex with my husband. The more I pulled back, the more he pushed. I didn't like it but I thought I could control it.
In 1999 we received orders to Italy. All my concerns were pushed to the back as I worked toward selling the house, packing up our belongings, and getting all the military requirements done before we left. My husband moved to Italy six months before I did leaving me to sell the house from three hours away. I took our dog to my apartment at my duty station and finished my work while preparing to move. This was a good time for me. My husband was 5,000 miles away. I couldn't worry about him. He called me and told me he missed me and loved me. I missed him. And I loved him with all my heart. I adored him.
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