Monday, May 14, 2007

It's All About Choices - Part 2...

To start at the beginning, scroll down one post.

I've mentioned before somewhere, I think, that the reason I
married Michael was because...
he was the first man to ask me.
I was twenty-six at the time and literally afraid
that no one else would ask me to be their wife.
So, I said yes to him. Stupid.

I had nice boyfriends in high school.
I think I remember four dates in college.
After college, I moved to Florida and began to meet every
asshole, freak and jerk within a fifty mile radius.
Michael compared favorably to them. I thought.

To continue...
The job we took at the motel was miserable. The details don't
really matter. Suffice it to say, we lasted six months there
before we quit and moved to a duplex a few miles north and
on the mainland. Of course, this meant Michael needed to
find another job. And, the bankruptcy was not yet final.

Not long after we left the motel, the Federal Bankruptcy Court
notified us that they were sending movers to repossess our
bedroom and living room furniture. They were the only things
of value that we had that could be auctioned off, and the
monies distributed to our creditors. They didn't get much.
The day they picked up the furniture was another humiliation.

The next episode involved my health.
I was experiencing pain in my lower right abdomen. It was
determined that there was some kind of growth in the area
of my right ovary. Turned out to be scar tissue. No big deal.
It required minor surgery to remove it. I decided to ask the
surgeon to cut my tubes since he was going to be in the
neighborhood anyway. Michael and I had already decided
that we would not have children. I wanted to stop taking the pill.
I did not want to have his children.

This was around 1982 or '83 when insurance companies still
allowed patients to stay in the hospital a couple of days after
any surgery. I was scheduled to be there for two days.

I honestly don't remember if Michael was working by then.
If he was, he took off the entire week. To be with me? Nah.
To drink.

The morning of the surgery, he came to the hospital carrying
some kind of potted, flowering plant and put it on my table
beside the bed. I was in shock. He had NEVER given me flowers
of any kind. Ever. He had always said flowers were a waste of
money because they always died. (Never mind the money he
pissed away, literally, on the beer he drank.)

When I thanked him for the flowers, he said, "Well, I figured
that if you die I'd feel bad because I never gave you flowers
while you were alive. And, this is a plant so maybe it will live
a while." So much for that emotional moment.

As soon as I woke up from surgery, he went home.
Next morning, the doctor released me to go home. It was about
10 a.m. I called the house so Michael could pick me up.
No answer. I waited half an hour and called again. No answer.
The cleaning crew came in to get the room ready for the next
patient. Hard to do with me still in the bed.

By noon, still no Michael. I called the local police department.
Neighbors were all at work. The police called me back and said
they couldn't tell if he was home or not, but they got no response
when they banged on the door. Terrific.

I thought about calling a taxi, but I had no cash on me.
So, I kept calling the house. Finally, around 3 p.m., he answered
the phone. Slurred speech. Said he had taken some Tylenol for
a toothache and had been sleeping. Right.
When he showed up at the hospital, he reeked of alcohol and
was staggering. I drove home.

Did I mention that we had to buy a new bed because we lost
the last one in the bankruptcy?
Did I mention that Michael arranged to have the new bed...
a king size waterbed... delivered on the day I got home from
having surgery? SO I COULD HELP HIM SET IT UP.
And, I did. And, it hurt. Stupid.
It was either help him or sleep curled up in a pappasan chair.
He didn't ask friends for help. That's what his wife was for.

I will try to post again tomorrow night...


none said...

I'm at a loss for words. Waiting for part 3

AspergantuS said...

I am so glad you are writing this. This is the very reason you started this blog so many years ago and the reason I started mine...therapy.
I now understand a lot more than I did about you and the story isn't even over.
I'm so sorry you had to endure a life like that. You never deserved that. You are way too kind of a soul to have had to live that life.
But the impotant thing is that you made it through to the other side, yes with some emotional scar tissue but you made it.
Thank God.
Beyond this, I am at a loss for words (I know...unsual for me huh?)

k said...


Your strength amazes me.

Anonymous said...

I have no words, only hugs.........

Anonymous said...

I'm continually amazed at what you're endured in your life. No wonder you're so strong now.

boneman said...

I dunno if it really helps ya.

Y'all spend way too much effort on self depreciation when, in the long haul, you did yer best and tried yer best t'help the guy.
For that, you are a hero....
sorry. male chauvinism at play there....

Some of us know the rest of the story, and the fact that he borrowed the stinkin' gun from a FRIEND should tell ya a lot right off.
Vomit it up and be done with it.

Try to find something funny about the jerk. (dang! Now THAT'S REAL work, eh?)
Like, he walks up to the pearly gates and ol' Saint Pete sees him comin and he calls heaven's security force 'cause there's some guy with a gun at the front gate.

They put him to work cleanin' toilets for angels with diarhea.

Sure, there's streets of gold but he has to clean it by licking the street.

Speaking of jewish fantasy....can you believe that we make such a big deal out of the idea of 72 virgins (yeah, but they're all men) for islamic bombers when here, our madman at the wheel (dubya) talks about walking on streets of gold in heaven?

Maybe you got into this bloggin' stuff too late. I'm fairly certain that more than just me would be glad to have straitened out yer ex.
Or heck, at the very least, talk him into swimming out into the big bay when there are a b'zillion sharks and all.

But, hon....don't let him continue winning, cause the only reason he would have done it the way he did was to punish you, torment you, get back at you....

He was fukt (not technically a cuss word) and that was that.

Full-On-Forward said...


Sorry it took me so long to get by and say Thanks for the thoughts and prayers (From AD's post)

I'll be returning to read! I'm from Plant City originally!! Thanks again.


Jean said...

Hammer - thanks, dear man... I hope to post tonight.

Mick- We pay for the choices we make. Lessons have been learned, though... and, I ain't done yet! :)

k and Freddie - I didn't feel strong at the time. More like... beaten down.

Berry - heroine? I've never thought that. I'm hoping this (these writings)is going to be my soul salve.

Jack - your hugs are much appreciated.

John - it's good to see you here... please do come back!

kdzu said...

In every condition
In sickness, in health
In poverty's vale
Or abounding in wealth
At home or abroad
On the land or the sea
As thy days may demand
So thy succor shall be

Even if you didn't realize it at the time.

Enemy of the Republic said...

I'm with Hammer on this one.

Jean said...

Larry - meaning, I did what I had to do at the time? Survival... pretty much.
Where is this from?

EotR - glad you are here.

Anonymous said...


Sorry for the pain then, but it does make you the woman you are now -- a pretty wonderful one. I share a tiny bit of your pain, having spent two years in a relationship with someone who was manipulative and abusive (though never physically, thank goodness). It's hard to see your way out when you are in the midst of it.

We by nature want to be good, to be supportive, to nurture and help. But no good deed goes unpunished, especially in the world of abusive relationships. I'm sorry the exit was so traumatic, but glad you're way beyond that now.

Jean said...

ah, dear lady... two years or twenty. Bad is bad.
We are both survivors, you and I.
You are very special yourself.

Corby said...

Many of us have made such silly mistakes and called it love, you are most certainly not alone in that. Now you are free for the good stuff, which after all that you clearly deserve.


Jean said...

Corby, you are such a kind soul. Thank you.

Scott from Oregon said...

I can't tell you how angry this all makes me...

Mostly with HIM for putting you through all that.

A little with you for allowing it.

Give yourself a big hug from me and finish telling this awful tale.

Then put it in a box and tape it up and mail it to somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle...

Jean said...

Scott - Believe me, I went through the anger at myself also. Thanks for the hug. Part of Daytona is in the Triangle... I could just set it afloat.

Anonymous said...

Honey, some men just don't deserve to live and I think he realized it later on in life. NO person should be treated the way you were.

I wish you peace. *hug*

Jean said...

Thanks Wendy... you're a sweetie.