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| Smiling (and probably drunk) at my lowest point |
Boundaries???What are Boundaries???
As earlier mentioned, setting and maintaining boundaries was not something I did often during my relationship with my husband. In fact, prior to the incident with Robbie, I am not sure I set or maintained a single, solitary boundary in our entire relationship. I always gave in to what he wanted because it was easier than having conflict in our home. That is why I didn't bother to say or do much when he kept talking to the woman he'd dated before me behind my back-- even though we were already living together. Or, when he tried to get her to come out drinking with our friends on St. Patrick's Day when I was at home studying. That is also why I didn't say much about the wedding driving me to the edge of sanity, or that I remained totally overwhelmed and fragile in the months after. I was determined to make our relationship work come hell or high water, and in order to do that, I had to put my own needs and feelings aside.In all fairness to my husband, I believe that we teach people how they can treat us. I taught him that my feelings, my needs, and my desires were not as important as his own. By saying and doing very little to stand up for myself, or defend what I knew to be best for my mental health and well-being, I taught him that those things are not worth considering. So when Robbie overstepped my boundaries and I finally stood up for myself, he had no experience dealing with it. In the past, I had always given in, and turned to alcohol and prescription drugs as an outlet for the emotions and experiences I was having difficulty handling.
But this time was different. The verbal abuse and hateful stance that Robbie had brought into my home was not something I would back down from. I knew that someone like that would not be safe for me, and would not be safe for my children or family. It was a stance I took in defense of my morals and values. I will compromise all day long on my comfort and well-being, but I will not compromise on my fundamental core values. Those were instilled in my as a child, and are far more a part of me than I even knew until that event occurred.
From my perspective, I had finally reached a point where I knew a boundary needed to drawn and a discussion must ensue. I felt I had given up a lot so my husband would be happy. And when I finally felt so uncomfortable that drawing a boundary became a necessity/need rather than a desire/want, I did it.
As the weeks passed and my husband said nothing to his family, and did nothing in response to the events that had transpired over Thanksgiving, I began to feel, on a gut level, that our relationship was not going to work out. For me, it was an urgent matter and needed to be dealt with immediately. But no matter what I did, there seemed to be no way to convince him to take action--or even take a stance for that matter! I started to feel like he wanted the conflict between he an I. I started to feel like he was setting up a situation that would result in an inevitable conflict between his family and me.
Passive Aggressive vs Passive Aggressive
Nightly fights began to ensue about the events that had occurred at Thanksgiving, and what my husband was going to do about it. He kept promising me that he was going to talk to his family, but nothing ever happened. Day after day would pass, then week after week.
Perhaps my husband thought it would just pass if he left it alone. After all, that had been his past experience with me. And, to be truthful, that is my own fault. But at least a couple times a week, we were up all night fighting about it. I cried, I yelled, I became completely unraveled.
Eventually, to put more impact behind my argument, I began bringing up past grievances. At the time, I didn't know that I was being passive-aggressive, I just thought that if I brought up other times I had gave in to him, he would understand that it was now HIS turn to give in to me, and talk to his family about the event that had so greatly upset me. But it seemed like the more I tried to convey my discomfort and the urgency of the matter (for myself), the more he dug in his heels and stubbornly refused to take action. So, like a true passive-aggressive, I began to bring up all my former grievances as time without resolution went on. I brought up my deep unhappiness and feelings of violation I had about our wedding. I brought up the fact that my parents had paid such a ridiculous amount of money for me to be deeply unhappy and feeling violated at my own wedding. I brought up the fact that I gave up my own hope of my dream wedding in order to make him and his family happy. I brought up the fact that I had turned down an excellent job with excellent benefits in order to support him and his career--at his insistence, moreover!
But despite everything I said, despite how much I cried, pleaded and argued, nothing happened and nothing changed. There was no compromise. His stance remained the same as it was the day the events transpired: he would talk to his family when the time felt right. He would do it before Christmas so everyone was on the same page.
Perhaps my husband thought it would just pass if he left it alone. After all, that had been his past experience with me. And, to be truthful, that is my own fault. But at least a couple times a week, we were up all night fighting about it. I cried, I yelled, I became completely unraveled.
Eventually, to put more impact behind my argument, I began bringing up past grievances. At the time, I didn't know that I was being passive-aggressive, I just thought that if I brought up other times I had gave in to him, he would understand that it was now HIS turn to give in to me, and talk to his family about the event that had so greatly upset me. But it seemed like the more I tried to convey my discomfort and the urgency of the matter (for myself), the more he dug in his heels and stubbornly refused to take action. So, like a true passive-aggressive, I began to bring up all my former grievances as time without resolution went on. I brought up my deep unhappiness and feelings of violation I had about our wedding. I brought up the fact that my parents had paid such a ridiculous amount of money for me to be deeply unhappy and feeling violated at my own wedding. I brought up the fact that I gave up my own hope of my dream wedding in order to make him and his family happy. I brought up the fact that I had turned down an excellent job with excellent benefits in order to support him and his career--at his insistence, moreover!
But despite everything I said, despite how much I cried, pleaded and argued, nothing happened and nothing changed. There was no compromise. His stance remained the same as it was the day the events transpired: he would talk to his family when the time felt right. He would do it before Christmas so everyone was on the same page.
Depression and Despair
As time passed and Christmas drew closer, I began to sink into a very deep depression. The events of Thanksgiving had caused a rift between me and my husband, and I started to feel very lonely and isolated.
We still had not been in Florida for very long, and I really didn't know anyone that I actually trusted and felt safe confiding in, so I just internalized my feelings of depression--depression about the miscarriage, depression from not being able to find meaningful work, depression from having no friends, and depression from the rift in our marriage. I started to feel like I had made all of the wrong choices in my life, and now I was stuck in a marriage where I didn't feel respected or considered, in a state where I felt lost and unhappy, and with little to look forward to in terms of career goals or family plans. After what had happened and the fact that nothing was ever done about it, I started questioning whether or not it was even a good idea to start a family with my husband.
The icy, cold distance between me and Garrett was palpable. We were like two ships passing in the night: neither one of us felt seen or heard. And, as usual, I blamed myself for making poor life choices that put me in circumstances where I felt extremely unhappy.
I began to drink more and more. I also became more dependent on the benzodiazopines to even relax. I started having panic attacks again. Things were falling apart quickly.
We still had not been in Florida for very long, and I really didn't know anyone that I actually trusted and felt safe confiding in, so I just internalized my feelings of depression--depression about the miscarriage, depression from not being able to find meaningful work, depression from having no friends, and depression from the rift in our marriage. I started to feel like I had made all of the wrong choices in my life, and now I was stuck in a marriage where I didn't feel respected or considered, in a state where I felt lost and unhappy, and with little to look forward to in terms of career goals or family plans. After what had happened and the fact that nothing was ever done about it, I started questioning whether or not it was even a good idea to start a family with my husband.
The icy, cold distance between me and Garrett was palpable. We were like two ships passing in the night: neither one of us felt seen or heard. And, as usual, I blamed myself for making poor life choices that put me in circumstances where I felt extremely unhappy.
I began to drink more and more. I also became more dependent on the benzodiazopines to even relax. I started having panic attacks again. Things were falling apart quickly.
Christmas
I've always struggled at Christmas, I wont pretend to know why. But ever since I was a child, depression had reared it's ugly head during the holidays, and I did my best to cope with it. That year, my best was alcohol and Xanax.
My husband and I went back North separately that year. I went to New Jersey to visit my best friend and my family up there, and Garrett went straight back to Buffalo. At first, I found it a great relief to visit my family and my best friend. It made me feel happy and feel like myself again. But as the time to go to Buffalo grew closer, I started getting anxiety.
A day before I was supposed to go to Buffalo, I called my husband and asked him if he had spoken with his family yet. He had not. Of course not. That night, I proceeded to get wasted at my best friend's house. I fell down the stairs backward, in the dark, slamming my head in several places on the way down. I just laid there in pain. A couple of my fingers were possibly broken, my head had taken a legit beating, and my legs would surely be bruised up the next morning...and they were. I never told anyone except my husband how serious the fall actually was--I didn't want anyone to confront me on my drinking. I'm fairly sure I got a concussion and that I broke at least two of my fingers. I never went to the hospital. Those two fingers are crooked to this day, and hurt when I bend them and when the weather is bad.
I arrived in Buffalo, and at first everything was fine. Garrett had told me that his grandparents were aware that Thanksgiving had been a deeply unpleasant experience. I felt relieved and ready to move on, and so I did--for about a day.
Garrett's sister and Robbie were not at Christmas that year, and that was the only reason why I felt comfortable going. And, as things had not gone well at Thanksgiving, I felt like I wouldn't have to worry too much about hearing about them. Again, I was wrong.
His sister and Robbie kept having car troubles and financial troubles on the way up to visit his family in Georgia. Obviously the blow by blow of their misadventures became a topic of frequent discussion. This was an annoyance, but one I could deal with. But something made me snap that Christmas, and I don't even know why.
On Christmas morning, one of Garrett's Grandparents showed everyone a picture of Garrett's sister and Robbie in the matching pajamas they had bought for them. His family made a series of comments to the effect of, "Look at how cute they are in the matching pajamas we sent them!" and "Look at how happy she is! Look at how happy Robbie makes her! They are such a cute couple!!!"
In my state of abject misery following recent events, I felt greatly offended by the fact that everyone was glossing over the immense amount of stress and conflict Robbie's actions had generated in our own home and in our own marriage. I was offended by the hatefulness he had brought into our house, and the abusive comments and abusive attitude he had directed towards me. It offended me how he was still portrayed to the family as some sort of good guy that had really turned things around for Garrett's sister. Fuck that. Although I didn't say anything at the time, I had reached my last straw.
Later in the night, Garrett and I stayed up all night arguing. Eight or more hours straight. It was redundant, it was the same argument we had been having for over a month, and the solution was still the same: he would say and do nothing. I was done. Done. I saw myself going down a dark path, and I needed to leave to be OK. So I did. I left his grandparents house in the middle of the night and went to a hotel. My husband went back to his family. I stayed alone in the hotel drinking and crying--so angry with myself for getting into such a mess with my life. And then I started thinking about it--I had thought about it before at Christmas, and this time seemed as good as any: suicide. I could see no way out of my misery. I hated myself for putting myself in such a position (again). I hated being alone--I had felt very alone for months at that point. I was depressed, exasperated, and unprepared to deal with the circumstances in which I found myself. I was also too drunk to come up with a solid plan, but I began to call people and let them know that I felt backed into a corner and didn't know how to get out. As I talked to people, I began to feel like I was burdensome to them, and they would be better off without me. I felt like a failure; a fool. I had actually thought I could have a nice, normal life and a happy marriage and family. I was wrong. And I was stupid to think that something like that was even possible for someone like me.
Eventually, my husband came to the hotel. We flew back to Florida early. I didn't think it was even possible, but Christmas had gone even worse than Thanksgiving.
My husband and I went back North separately that year. I went to New Jersey to visit my best friend and my family up there, and Garrett went straight back to Buffalo. At first, I found it a great relief to visit my family and my best friend. It made me feel happy and feel like myself again. But as the time to go to Buffalo grew closer, I started getting anxiety.
A day before I was supposed to go to Buffalo, I called my husband and asked him if he had spoken with his family yet. He had not. Of course not. That night, I proceeded to get wasted at my best friend's house. I fell down the stairs backward, in the dark, slamming my head in several places on the way down. I just laid there in pain. A couple of my fingers were possibly broken, my head had taken a legit beating, and my legs would surely be bruised up the next morning...and they were. I never told anyone except my husband how serious the fall actually was--I didn't want anyone to confront me on my drinking. I'm fairly sure I got a concussion and that I broke at least two of my fingers. I never went to the hospital. Those two fingers are crooked to this day, and hurt when I bend them and when the weather is bad.
I arrived in Buffalo, and at first everything was fine. Garrett had told me that his grandparents were aware that Thanksgiving had been a deeply unpleasant experience. I felt relieved and ready to move on, and so I did--for about a day.
Garrett's sister and Robbie were not at Christmas that year, and that was the only reason why I felt comfortable going. And, as things had not gone well at Thanksgiving, I felt like I wouldn't have to worry too much about hearing about them. Again, I was wrong.
His sister and Robbie kept having car troubles and financial troubles on the way up to visit his family in Georgia. Obviously the blow by blow of their misadventures became a topic of frequent discussion. This was an annoyance, but one I could deal with. But something made me snap that Christmas, and I don't even know why.
On Christmas morning, one of Garrett's Grandparents showed everyone a picture of Garrett's sister and Robbie in the matching pajamas they had bought for them. His family made a series of comments to the effect of, "Look at how cute they are in the matching pajamas we sent them!" and "Look at how happy she is! Look at how happy Robbie makes her! They are such a cute couple!!!"
In my state of abject misery following recent events, I felt greatly offended by the fact that everyone was glossing over the immense amount of stress and conflict Robbie's actions had generated in our own home and in our own marriage. I was offended by the hatefulness he had brought into our house, and the abusive comments and abusive attitude he had directed towards me. It offended me how he was still portrayed to the family as some sort of good guy that had really turned things around for Garrett's sister. Fuck that. Although I didn't say anything at the time, I had reached my last straw.
Later in the night, Garrett and I stayed up all night arguing. Eight or more hours straight. It was redundant, it was the same argument we had been having for over a month, and the solution was still the same: he would say and do nothing. I was done. Done. I saw myself going down a dark path, and I needed to leave to be OK. So I did. I left his grandparents house in the middle of the night and went to a hotel. My husband went back to his family. I stayed alone in the hotel drinking and crying--so angry with myself for getting into such a mess with my life. And then I started thinking about it--I had thought about it before at Christmas, and this time seemed as good as any: suicide. I could see no way out of my misery. I hated myself for putting myself in such a position (again). I hated being alone--I had felt very alone for months at that point. I was depressed, exasperated, and unprepared to deal with the circumstances in which I found myself. I was also too drunk to come up with a solid plan, but I began to call people and let them know that I felt backed into a corner and didn't know how to get out. As I talked to people, I began to feel like I was burdensome to them, and they would be better off without me. I felt like a failure; a fool. I had actually thought I could have a nice, normal life and a happy marriage and family. I was wrong. And I was stupid to think that something like that was even possible for someone like me.
Eventually, my husband came to the hotel. We flew back to Florida early. I didn't think it was even possible, but Christmas had gone even worse than Thanksgiving.
