An un-posted post, from 2011

I wrote the following in 2011. It was the anniversary of my first marriage, I don't know why I wrote it then, I don't know why I didn't finish it or publish it. Reading it again this morning, I see that it is worthy of being said, if only for my kids to read someday, after I'm gone. He was their dad after all, and while they all know how much I loved him, this may explain (briefly) that rocky relationship. I have not mentioned this blog to them in years, I assume they have no reason to look here any more. But even if they would read here now or in the near future, it would be okay, I don't keep too many secrets.  :)





Thirty-two years ago today, I got married. I was a starry eyed, niave, young and stupid girl, just a few weeks shy of nineteen. He was eleven years older than I, although I did not know that yet. (He shaved a few years off of his real age, although that fact was insignificant to me and it would not have mattered.) To say I was in love would be an understatement. I was that, but I was also in love with the whole idea of love and marriage and family, and I was nearly obsessed with HIM. He was all that mattered in my world. He was all that was important to me, all that I thought about, cared about, and lived for back then. He was a good man, really. He wanted the same type of life that I cared about, he wanted children, he loved fast cars and dogs and cats and kids and his mother, sort of. He loved ME. He made me feel wanted and special and needed. And stupid. Oh how he could make me feel so stupid...laughing at my young and stupid ways, my lack of knowledge of the adult world, the fact that I had no idea what the real world was. I suppose I should tell you that we dated for six weeks prior to our marriage. Yes, I know. But it could have easily have been six months or six years, the outcome would have been the same. He made me want to get it right--everything. He made me want to learn to do it all, he made me want to "break out" of my stupidity and be smarter. I thought he knew absolutely everything. He had to be the smartest man that ever lived. He was educated plus naturally smart, and had the biggest dreams of anyone I had ever met. He made me laugh. We spent so much time talking and dreaming and laughing, I can't even tell you. I waited impatiently until he would get back home, when he had to be gone from me. Within a very few months of our union, I became pregnant and that was the beginning of the most magical time of my life. He made me feel so very loved and wanted and so damned happy. I spent many days crying, seriously, with happiness. I couldn't believe my fortune or my luck.

However, those were the good days. Those were the days that life was perfectly right. There were many, many days that I was left wondering what in the world had happened to the man that I had said "I do and I will" to. The bad days were right there, smack in the middle of all the good. I can't say that the bad came later, after a period of time, or that they progressively became worse over the years, because they didn't. The bad days happened right along with the good, in the middle of the wonderful. I didn't know then and still don't know for sure now, but the man had mental problems. All I knew back then was that he had his days when he was in "a mood". The bad mood days left me feeling helpless and hopeless and even more stupid and so dark inside. He was not violent with me, not ever. But there was no item, no special thing, nothing electronic, or mechanical that would be spared. His rage would spill out of him like vomit, and I could see that he was helpless to stop it. All I knew was that I wanted it to go away, to stop, and


I wonder now what I would have written here. My days of thinking about this time in my life are gone. I am sure that's due to my current predicament, if I were well, I would still have all these opinions on oh-so-many-things. For now, I'm incapable of this kind of writing. I have hope that I will return to it. There is always hope, right?  Hugs and love, all.  :)