When we first married, I was pretty outgoing. I am a people person (who has learned to be an introvert). I had connected with several people in the church during my first year there. I think in that year I had collected a dozen "Moms". Once we were married, he squelched every connection. Many of the ladies thought I was a brat very soon after we married. I think "Grandma" K thought I had dropped her and her husband, or that I was suddenly too busy for them. When in reality, I tried every week to go visit them and Brad would say, "wait until I get home, and we can both go. They are great people and I would like to go see them, too" Then he would come home and after dinner either be too tired or want to visit someone else because "They are at church every service and (others) can't get there all the time." He was the husband, I was the "submissive" wife, I didn't know what to do...
He convinced me I didn't need to attend the Ladies Bible Studies because we were busy ALL the rest of the week and he wanted time with me. Never mind he spent all his time in the bathroom or on the computer when we were home. I got the same "You're going to leave me home alone :( " on the rare occasions that someone invited me to a Ladies night. If by some miracle I was invited to lunch with someone, I got,"well, I don't know if we can afford it. And you need to be available if I need you to go with me to visit a widow or someone in the hospital." (things he did often and NEVER took me along, I found out from those people telling me he had visited them and they had missed me.)
All these things, while saying to others "Yeah, she can go to Bible Study, I think it would be great!", "Sure she can go out anytime, it would be good to some things like that with friends." and making excuses about me having headaches or not feeling well... Though I was often down with migraine, many times when he said I was, I wasn't, I just had not been told about those invites.
After about 6 years, I was pretty sure nobody cared or wanted to do anything with me. At 7 years, I stared to realize that he didn't care. When he realized I was ready to take my complaints to the Pastor, he changed ever so briefly. He started taking me with him once in a while during the day time on visits, and he actually agreed for me to start attending the Ladies Bible Study. At 8 years, I suddenly became pregnant, and grandma K passed away... within months of the baby being born, he started to revert to ignoring me, and leaving me home. Now, everyone was told I was busy with the baby. After child number two, things quickly plummeted to worse than ever, and continued down hill until I hit bottom.
As I realized I was not an important part of his life, I became more and more frustrated. I tried harder and harder to please him, but nothing was ever noticed, never mind good enough. As the children got older, I wanted to teach them routine, and tried to encourage things like bedtime and cleaning their rooms, but their father rebelled against those ideas. Making it near impossible for me to teach them those things. Fighting losing battles in the struggle to try to train my children, made me more and more angry and frustrated. Unfortunately, that kind of frustration tends to be taken out on the children.
I became the "mean" parent (the one with rules and consequences) and Daddy was the fun, playful parent (still the case today). The children learned very quickly the different standards we had, and understood that I attempted to be a submissive wife. So about an hour before Daddy would get home everyday, the kids would flip their behavior switch from "Mommy is Boss" to "Daddy is Boss", and I would retreat to solitude. I could not emotionally handle the running and screaming in the house, that was allowed and encouraged by Brad, even though he knew full well that I couldn't endure that kind of stimulation.
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
He did it all
I couldn't do anything right. I wasn't taught to clean, cook, do laundry... anything. The "grandparents" I lived with for a year, tried to show me a few things, but really I was too proud to ask, to admit I really didn't know how to scrub a toilet or tub, or make a bed... I know she would have gladly taught me, if I had asked. She did make me "cook" occasionally. Mostly setting the pre-measured ingredients out for me, and guiding me on the use of the microwave :)
I learned to cook, by reading the directions-- cookbooks mostly, because he wouldn't let me use a box or a can if he knew, and I wasn't allowed to go to the grocery store alone. He did put it to me that he wanted us to go together, but I quickly learned that was because he wanted to control what was bought. And everything I made could be improved somehow, even 16 years later, following any instruction he gave, my cooking still had room for improvement in his opinion.
I only had one inedible flop, cheese soup. He was quick to throw it down the disposal and laugh, at the time I thought with me. I was so afraid of ruining anything, I followed directions closely, so nothing burned or whatever, but he always had a comment on how I could change it "next time"
Often, if I spent the day cleaning, he'd make comments that evening about the house needing to be cleaned, or would go back and clean behind me. If we had company over for dinner (a near weekly occurrence), he would argue with me, until I would give in, insisting that he wanted to vacuum, or clean the bathroom as a help to me. He would promise to be home early, but wouldn't arrive until minutes before the company, so they would always see him finishing up, and putting the cleaning supplies away. To the point that some people who were invited more often, would be late because they felt like we were not ready for them to arrive when they did. Many people felt bad for him, because he had to work all day and then had to come home and help me clean for company. Then he started wanting to help prepare the meals, and since he would argue until I gave in (I tried to explain, he was stealing my blessing) he would make whatever, and the amount of cooking he did increased as time went on, and he would sit at the table during and after dinner and point out everything he made (leaving out of course, that he had me put together the marinade, or begin the preparation for him). And people felt even more sorry for him, because he did everything for me, not knowing he did it all because I let him because it was easier than fighting with him about it.
I had given up.
I learned to cook, by reading the directions-- cookbooks mostly, because he wouldn't let me use a box or a can if he knew, and I wasn't allowed to go to the grocery store alone. He did put it to me that he wanted us to go together, but I quickly learned that was because he wanted to control what was bought. And everything I made could be improved somehow, even 16 years later, following any instruction he gave, my cooking still had room for improvement in his opinion.
I only had one inedible flop, cheese soup. He was quick to throw it down the disposal and laugh, at the time I thought with me. I was so afraid of ruining anything, I followed directions closely, so nothing burned or whatever, but he always had a comment on how I could change it "next time"
Often, if I spent the day cleaning, he'd make comments that evening about the house needing to be cleaned, or would go back and clean behind me. If we had company over for dinner (a near weekly occurrence), he would argue with me, until I would give in, insisting that he wanted to vacuum, or clean the bathroom as a help to me. He would promise to be home early, but wouldn't arrive until minutes before the company, so they would always see him finishing up, and putting the cleaning supplies away. To the point that some people who were invited more often, would be late because they felt like we were not ready for them to arrive when they did. Many people felt bad for him, because he had to work all day and then had to come home and help me clean for company. Then he started wanting to help prepare the meals, and since he would argue until I gave in (I tried to explain, he was stealing my blessing) he would make whatever, and the amount of cooking he did increased as time went on, and he would sit at the table during and after dinner and point out everything he made (leaving out of course, that he had me put together the marinade, or begin the preparation for him). And people felt even more sorry for him, because he did everything for me, not knowing he did it all because I let him because it was easier than fighting with him about it.
I had given up.
Monday, July 16, 2018
The beginning
I came from an influence that said "men can fend for themselves!", but those ladies that had been married a long time, and the couples seemed to like each other, those ladies doted on their men. So, I though the right thing to do, especially since he wanted me to be a housewife, was to do those doting wife things.
Even though I was not a morning person, I got up with Him, and fixed him breakfast every morning, and every morning he would leave without eating. I asked him what time he wanted dinner, and he said "about 5:30", so I worked hard to have dinner ready no later than that, but he never came home until at least 6, sometimes as late as 7. And if I asked (I admit I wasn't very kind in my asking, but I was worried and scared that something happened to him when he didn't come home on time) where he was, and why he hadn't come home on time, his answer was always someone had come in or called and needed his help. Though he would never tell me who, or what kind of help, and he never once called to let me know he was running late. Then every night after dinner, he would sit in his chair with a quilt hugged up to his chin, and shiver. I remember one night, the first week we were home, looking at him, I thought he looked like he regretted the life choice he had just made (marrying me)
After we were married 6 weeks the girl (who was in the youth group and my bridesmaid), and her family had some major drama, that resulted in us having all 4 of the kids in our home for a few nights, and when the two older children refused to go home (they were old enough to make that stand), I begged Brad to let them stay with us. I knew he loved those kids as his own (He'd said so), and I thought maybe welcoming them in to our home, would communicate to him, how much I loved him and wanted to be a part of his life.
He agreed to let them stay for a while, and life became what I had imagined it would. We got up every morning and ate breakfast together, the four of us. And he came home for dinner on time every night. And even though the boy and I clashed some (nothing big, really, but since I was only 6 years older than him, he didn't think I had a right to have authority over him, and Brad saw no reason to correct him), life was exactly what I had expected it to be (even if the devotions Brad tried to do at breakfast, were boring, at least it was happening)
The kids lived with us for 12 weeks, then the girl went to live with her aunt, and the boy moved in with our pastor. I don't know how that all came to pass, I was just informed that it was happening when it happened. And as soon as the kids were moved out, everything stopped. No more breakfasts together, no more devotions together, no more home for dinner time. it all stopped as fast as flicking a switch, and I took it personally.
Even though I was not a morning person, I got up with Him, and fixed him breakfast every morning, and every morning he would leave without eating. I asked him what time he wanted dinner, and he said "about 5:30", so I worked hard to have dinner ready no later than that, but he never came home until at least 6, sometimes as late as 7. And if I asked (I admit I wasn't very kind in my asking, but I was worried and scared that something happened to him when he didn't come home on time) where he was, and why he hadn't come home on time, his answer was always someone had come in or called and needed his help. Though he would never tell me who, or what kind of help, and he never once called to let me know he was running late. Then every night after dinner, he would sit in his chair with a quilt hugged up to his chin, and shiver. I remember one night, the first week we were home, looking at him, I thought he looked like he regretted the life choice he had just made (marrying me)
After we were married 6 weeks the girl (who was in the youth group and my bridesmaid), and her family had some major drama, that resulted in us having all 4 of the kids in our home for a few nights, and when the two older children refused to go home (they were old enough to make that stand), I begged Brad to let them stay with us. I knew he loved those kids as his own (He'd said so), and I thought maybe welcoming them in to our home, would communicate to him, how much I loved him and wanted to be a part of his life.
He agreed to let them stay for a while, and life became what I had imagined it would. We got up every morning and ate breakfast together, the four of us. And he came home for dinner on time every night. And even though the boy and I clashed some (nothing big, really, but since I was only 6 years older than him, he didn't think I had a right to have authority over him, and Brad saw no reason to correct him), life was exactly what I had expected it to be (even if the devotions Brad tried to do at breakfast, were boring, at least it was happening)
The kids lived with us for 12 weeks, then the girl went to live with her aunt, and the boy moved in with our pastor. I don't know how that all came to pass, I was just informed that it was happening when it happened. And as soon as the kids were moved out, everything stopped. No more breakfasts together, no more devotions together, no more home for dinner time. it all stopped as fast as flicking a switch, and I took it personally.
He said he believed like his father, at least a year for dating, then make the engagement time as short as possible, not more than 6 months. What did I know, surely his family was more godly than me (all I had to do was ask, they would have told me so). That sounded reasonable to me. We agreed that April was probably far enough away to get everything done and allow those we wanted to come from out of town enough time to plan to come. But what day? As we were looking at the calendar, Brad still had his parents Anniversary marked in his planner (His dad had died in January of 1997, and it was still very fresh for him, his mom and sister).
I thought it would be a kind gesture and way of honoring his parents, to get married on their anniversary, especially since it fell on a Saturday that year. So he made me talk to his mom about it. She was thrilled, and I think, honored, I never really could connect with her. (If you have read my other blog, you are likely aware of my opinions on the reasons for that, but anyway)
I couldn't handle stress very well, and I was having a LOT of migraines, so delegating the work of the wedding was very easy for me. I asked the two best decorators in the church to take care of the decorations, I gave them colors and free reign (It couldn't have been more beautiful, if I had stuck my nose in, so I am so glad I didn't). I asked the lady I now call Aunt to be in charge of the cake. I asked one of my favorite people then living in YV to come be in charge of the gifts (because I wanted them there!), and my dear Friend, who I now own as Mom, came to be my matron of honor. And the dear people OI moved to Oregon with, My Grandparent people, played mother and father of the bride (He was completely in the right to give me away, since my step-father had told them they could have me)
We included the youth group in the day, the boys were ushers, one of the girls was a bridesmaid, even one family that had recently moved away, came back for the wedding so their son could usher.
Even though the photographer had a bit of a tantrum, because he didn't like the request I made, it was a pretty nice day. I think there was close to 300 people there, the sanctuary was full. And I only remember a few special faces, and that was the case the very day after the wedding.
I was so appreciative of all who came I think I hugged everyone 4 or 5 times on the way out to the car.
After the wedding and a quick cruise through town followed by the wedding party, we went home (he bought a house and moved in 3 weeks before the wedding, and we had moved most of my stuff in as well. I had quit working and returned "home" to the grandparent's house for the month of April because the migraines were unbearable.) to change out of the wedding clothes and get packed up to leave for our week long honeymoon. His cell phone rang, and he ignored it. The house phone rang, and we ignored it, he assumed the family was just trying to annoy us. But then we noticed the Pastor's car sitting in the driveway. Apparently, he had forgotten to have us sign the marriage license, and by the time we would have returned, it would have been a problem. We laughed, signed the document and left for Victoria Canada.
Our first night we only went an hour or two up the freeway. The second day we started out, and started having car trouble. He decided it was the alternator. so we were just gonna go on and see if we could get where we needed to be. But we encountered road construction and rain. so we were winding thru the woods in a car that we couldn't use the wipers because the battery only had so much battery and there was literally no where to get another. We somehow made it to Olympia,WA. The city his aunt and uncle lived. He called his uncle and asked about a place to buy a battery, saying he would get the alternator taken care of after we got back home. (I had my opinion, but it didn't matter!)
The new battery lasted us to the parking lot of the hotel we stayed in Port Angeles that night (the night he intended for us to be in Victoria). I don't know how he got the car started the next day, but he did, and we made it to Victoria the next day. Was a magical place, probably be best vacation in every way, that I have ever been on.
when we got there, he parked the car in the garage of the hotel and left it there for nearly the whole week. The hotel accommodated us and gave us one more night, so we still had five nights there, and Pastor gave us one more day to get back, because of the difficulties we had. Brad finally decided to just get the car fixed while we were in Canada, then we were able to visit Butchart Gardens.
(It was such an amazing week, I would probably be willing to go relive it again tomorrow! One of the few moments of life that I could call "Happy")
Then we returned to Grants Pass. And the happily ever after, ended.
I thought it would be a kind gesture and way of honoring his parents, to get married on their anniversary, especially since it fell on a Saturday that year. So he made me talk to his mom about it. She was thrilled, and I think, honored, I never really could connect with her. (If you have read my other blog, you are likely aware of my opinions on the reasons for that, but anyway)
I couldn't handle stress very well, and I was having a LOT of migraines, so delegating the work of the wedding was very easy for me. I asked the two best decorators in the church to take care of the decorations, I gave them colors and free reign (It couldn't have been more beautiful, if I had stuck my nose in, so I am so glad I didn't). I asked the lady I now call Aunt to be in charge of the cake. I asked one of my favorite people then living in YV to come be in charge of the gifts (because I wanted them there!), and my dear Friend, who I now own as Mom, came to be my matron of honor. And the dear people OI moved to Oregon with, My Grandparent people, played mother and father of the bride (He was completely in the right to give me away, since my step-father had told them they could have me)
We included the youth group in the day, the boys were ushers, one of the girls was a bridesmaid, even one family that had recently moved away, came back for the wedding so their son could usher.
Even though the photographer had a bit of a tantrum, because he didn't like the request I made, it was a pretty nice day. I think there was close to 300 people there, the sanctuary was full. And I only remember a few special faces, and that was the case the very day after the wedding.
I was so appreciative of all who came I think I hugged everyone 4 or 5 times on the way out to the car.
After the wedding and a quick cruise through town followed by the wedding party, we went home (he bought a house and moved in 3 weeks before the wedding, and we had moved most of my stuff in as well. I had quit working and returned "home" to the grandparent's house for the month of April because the migraines were unbearable.) to change out of the wedding clothes and get packed up to leave for our week long honeymoon. His cell phone rang, and he ignored it. The house phone rang, and we ignored it, he assumed the family was just trying to annoy us. But then we noticed the Pastor's car sitting in the driveway. Apparently, he had forgotten to have us sign the marriage license, and by the time we would have returned, it would have been a problem. We laughed, signed the document and left for Victoria Canada.
Our first night we only went an hour or two up the freeway. The second day we started out, and started having car trouble. He decided it was the alternator. so we were just gonna go on and see if we could get where we needed to be. But we encountered road construction and rain. so we were winding thru the woods in a car that we couldn't use the wipers because the battery only had so much battery and there was literally no where to get another. We somehow made it to Olympia,WA. The city his aunt and uncle lived. He called his uncle and asked about a place to buy a battery, saying he would get the alternator taken care of after we got back home. (I had my opinion, but it didn't matter!)
The new battery lasted us to the parking lot of the hotel we stayed in Port Angeles that night (the night he intended for us to be in Victoria). I don't know how he got the car started the next day, but he did, and we made it to Victoria the next day. Was a magical place, probably be best vacation in every way, that I have ever been on.
when we got there, he parked the car in the garage of the hotel and left it there for nearly the whole week. The hotel accommodated us and gave us one more night, so we still had five nights there, and Pastor gave us one more day to get back, because of the difficulties we had. Brad finally decided to just get the car fixed while we were in Canada, then we were able to visit Butchart Gardens.
(It was such an amazing week, I would probably be willing to go relive it again tomorrow! One of the few moments of life that I could call "Happy")
Then we returned to Grants Pass. And the happily ever after, ended.
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