The End

In truth, I don’t want to dwell on all the events of the last 3 years, but in order to understand the present I must revisit the past. Please forgive me if it’s short, choppy, or missing a few details. Somethings I have chosen to forget, others are neatly packed away and stored in order for me to heal. Shortly after my last post, my world officially exploded. My now ex-husband (that should serve as a bit of foreshadowing) continued to stay out with varying reasons as to why he “needed to” or “couldn’t come home”. The turning point was a Sunday night in May. He had a gig playing a dinner dance with a local ethnic organization. I was invited to go, but encouraged not to because everyone would be speaking a language that I didn’t understand and I may not be comfortable. Being that I was just getting over walking pneumonia I was still not feeling 100 percent and stayed home. The event was to start at 4:00PM, he left at 1:00PM. This was not highly unusual since there is set up time involved when playing a gig. So he packed the car and off he went. Around 9PM he texted me to say that he was staying a little longer since he was relaxed and having a good time. I really wanted him to come home. I texted him back saying that I missed him, but it didn’t change anything. Around 11PM I began to text him again to find our when he would be headed home, but no response. Finally, at 11:30 he calls me from the local bar … “I’m meeting our friend here for a beer. I don’t think I should be driving home. Maybe you could come get me? But I’m not that far. Oh, is that our friend over there? Never mind, it’s late you don’t have to come and get me. Hi, friend…” click. I tried to get in a word. I tried to tell him that I would come get him. I tried to tell him I would come even after he had one more. I tried to agree with him that if he felt he shouldn’t drive then I should come. I tried. The next call I got was at 1:30AM. He was calling from the county sheriff’s department to tell me he had car trouble and he needed me to come and get him. Before I could get specifics of exactly where he was, he hung up. I was hesitant to call the number on the caller ID because – well - it was the sheriff’s office, so I called his cell phone. It went into voice mail. Then I called the sheriff’s office, but an answering machine picked up. I called the friend he met up with for some insight, but the last he saw him was leaving the bar. As I drove to the sheriff’s office I continued to call his cell and the sheriff’s number, but to no avail. I knew that the story of “car trouble” was not true because if that was the case why wouldn’t have the sheriff just driven him home after having the car towed? Also, why wasn’t he answering his cell phone? Why didn’t he call from his cell phone? When I arrived at the sheriff’s the main entrance was dark. I drove around the building, but saw no other public entrance. I drove back, and often continued to call his cell and the sheriff’s. Shortly after I arrived home, the house phone rang. He was asking if I was on my way. I explained what I had just been through for the last hour and that I had no idea if I was even at the correct sheriff’s office since there seemed to be no entrance. The sheriff’s officer got on the phone and told me where I could enter to pick him up. At a quarter to 3 in the morning, I am greeted by the officer at the sheriff’s department. My ex-husband is sitting at another officer’s desk just chatting up a storm about his gig and how he played at a recent fundraiser for the sheriff. Immediately, my fears are confirmed. He was arrested for a DUI. As he said hello to me and asked me not to be mad, I could smell the alcohol. Every pore in his body reeked of the rum, beer, tequila, and Lord knows what else. The officer pulled me into another room to explain the events that led to his arrest and the legality and responsibility of me signing a release form to take him home. He was stopped about a half mile from home for speeding 10 miles over the speed limit in a school zone, once he began to speak the officer asked him to step out of the car and proceeded to perform a sobriety test. After he failed the test, a breathalyzer was administered, it registered 1.6. The officers arrested him, impounded the car, and administered 2 more breathalyzers back at the station. Those tests registered 1.4 and 1.1 respectively. “So, Officer, what happens if I refuse to sign and accept responsibility for him?” “He stays in jail overnight and is released on his own recognizance after 24 hours from the time of the arrest.” In all honesty, I seriously considered letting him stay in jail overnight. I was furious. Livid. Distraught. And the writing on the wall turned into a neon sign. But I was a good wife, I took him home. He wanted to talk about it on the way home, but I refused to discuss it because I knew that anything we talked about would be forgotten because he was so intoxicated. When we arrived home I told him that we would talk when I got home from school. I told him that this was either going to make or break our marriage, his decisions had brought us to this impasse and were going to be the determining factors in its outcome. In an attempt to control my anger I proceeded to establish that he was not in a school zone when the original offense occurred and that he should call a lawyer when he woke up later that day. I got an hour of sleep and went to school. Exhausted and working on pure adrenaline I forged my way through the school day, then on to my second job the after care program until 6PM. When I arrived home he was angry because I was “late” and we needed to get to the impound before 7 otherwise he would have to wait until the following day to get his car. So, under extremely stressful conditions I drove to the impound where we paid nearly $200 to have the car released and then went home. He thanked me for my patience the night before and agreed that this was a crossroads in our relationship. He told me that he had been questioning his love for me and my lack of ability to put “us” before “me”. He felt like I was turning into someone he didn’t know. He said he was unsure of what he wanted, and his friends from the school where he worked – the 25 year olds that had never been married – were telling him that since he was that unhappy he should get a divorce. I don’t know where the grace came from, but it overcame me rather than the anger and betrayal I was feeling. I calmly explained to him that I was the one at home trying to live up to his expectations. I had been trying to meet his needs of dinner cooked, laundry done, house work done, planning romantic outings, and the like. The problem was that he was never home nor consistent in his schedule or desires. I suggested counseling. I suggested a couples retreat. I suggested more date nights. I suggested coming home every night rather than staying out with his friends who drank and always managed to keep his mind off time and out later than he expected only to ultimately offer their couch for him to sleep on. None of these were acceptable. According to him none of these would help our marriage. I told him that all there was left for me to do was to pray that the counseling he would need to undergo for the DUI would help him to see the poor decisions he had been making over the last 2 years. I prayed that it would help him to see how his choices to stay out and drink with friends was affecting our marriage. I prayed that he would see that I was a good wife, that the problems we were facing were not insurmountable if he could only meet me half way in tackling them. His court date came and went. He lost his license for a few months and didn’t register for his counseling until late August. In July, we had another heart to heart. He said he was in the marriage all the way and was going to work on it. Then about 3 days later it was a summer morning. I reached over to touch him and recoiled in his sleep. I got in my car and drove to the state park. I sat in my car and prayed for guidance as to how best handle the situation. That little internal voice spoke up, “Ask him is he willing to work on this marriage or not.” So with tears in my eyes, fearing his answer, I mustered up the strength and went home to ask. My world crashed around me as he said that he was no longer willing to work at it and wanted a divorce. “Make sure that’s what you really want, because if it is once the process begins and those papers are signed there is no going back. It’s over forever and you might as well be dead to me.” I won’t even begin to go through the reasons that he listed, which of course were my fault and taking very little responsibility for himself. Don’t get me wrong he took the responsibility for letting it drag out so long, but that’s about where it ended. He remained in the house for the next 3 months until I told him I couldn’t take being under the same roof with him. I spent more nights in the grocery store parking lot than I care to count. I have never felt pain so deep. My heart truly broke. Next…. Let the Healing Begin