Feedback Score: 0 reviews
Join Date: Feb 2011
Location: West, by God, Funroe,Louisiana
Liked 9217 Times on 5060 Posts
Likes Given: 74
I got married at 20 years old. A Mississippi redneck boy, to a 19 year old Yankee girl from West Virginia.
There's so much to tell and I don't know where to start... Long story, so bear with me.
I had just come back from Afghanistan with some dough in the bank, and bought a nice ring. While home on leave, I discovered my girlfriend of a little over a year had been cheating on me and had fallen into hardcore drug use.
Geez... rewind a little further... Have I ever told y'all why I joined the Marines in the first place? A death wish. I signed up at 17. After a girl cheated on me. My first real broken heart. I was semi suicidal, but a coward to die. Who could get me killed better than the Marines? This was almost or around a year after we invaded Afghanistan, I signed up in August of 2002.
Anyways. Did my first combat tour and realized I can't be killed, or so it felt and seemed from the evidence that was presented to me. Came home to propose to another back home girl I'd known for years and started a relationship with, after we met while I was on Christmas leave before I was deployed. A couple of more leave blocks later, I felt our relationship was pretty good. During the entire deployment, we stayed in contact through letters. I would get one for almost every day I was over there, and write back as often as I could, which was weekly at the very least. Call me gullible.
Reeling from yet another heartbreak from an unfaithful lover, I returned the ring, and put that 4K back in my pocket. The vast majority was spent on booze. Strike that, all of it was spent on booze. And then every paycheck thereafter.
Enter stage left: My Ex. A platoon mate of mine was from West Virginia. He was married, and while we were overseas, his wife's best friend had been kicked out of her home by her parents. They couldn't get along, and she had already burned bridges like crazy with so many others, so she moved in with them. That is how we met.
We got married January 3rd, 2005.
After what I'd been through, and knew I was going to go through, here she comes. I was getting ready to go back overseas in a few months. I had already seen a lot of crap. The memories of those I've seen dead were getting to me. The friends I lost through stupidity while back in the states was weighing heavily on me. I was no longer Superman. None of us were.
She came in and flipped my life upside down. She was nice, sure. And she was putting my mind at ease a bit, providing a bit of a buffer. And all the while we were dating, she was cheating on me with who I thought was my best friend. Maybe I turned a blind eye on purpose, I don't know. Maybe I was just starting to get used to being betrayed. I'd lost everyone it seemed, still too young to even drink a beer, but with blood on my hands. So far away from home, friends dying and getting in trouble. I had a hard time giving a ****. I still do sometimes.
She gave me a bit of an anchor, I guess. She told me she loved me, and she was there to support me. I had everything to lose it seemed, so I married her.
While I was in Iraq, she was cheating. I didn't know it. In fact, I didn't even suspect, but I found out during my 10-11ish hour long divorce trial this past January 8th. I relived every sour thing that happened during the past seven and a half years on that day.
While in Iraq, I found something to live for. It wasn't my wife. It was the baby she was carrying. With all the cheating, you could suspect that it wasn't mine, but as those here who have seen pictures of him and I together, or Downsouth and Cinderocka who have met us in person could tell you, there is no doubt. He's mine all the way. My mini me.
He was born November 29th, 2005
I finished my tour in Iraq and came home right before his birth.
I'd known my wife for a total of 4 months before I left. So, if felt almost as if I were coming home to a pregnant wife I didn't even know I had. We discovered very quickly that we couldn't get along. But we made it work for a while. She tried to walk out on me several times, and I just let her go, knowing she'd get 5 minutes down the road and come back because she couldn't get along with anyone and had burned all bridges. I literally was all she had.
I was discharged from the Marine Corps December 9th, 2006. We stayed with my Mom and Stepdad for about 2 months until we were able to get back on our feet. I got a job at a steel mill, which didn't last. Due to poor management, it was open for about 3 years total, and I worked there for about 3 months, at which point I left to go on the pipeline about a month before the mill closed it's doors for good.
This provided a great opportunity for her to continue on with her whoring around. I was sending home nearly 1K every week, yet somehow she couldn't pay $300 a month to the landlord across the street.
At one point, after coming home from a 2 month stint in Texas, the new tenant who answered the door at my home handed me a note. I remember it word for word.
"Trip, (a name I do actually use)
Your truck is at your mom's. I'm at mine. You can call (phone number edited) to talk to (our son). That's my mom's number."
After some talking, trying to figure out what I did wrong, and trying to make amends, I got their address and an invitation to come on over. I was immediately labeled a deadbeat, and treated as such, even though it only took me three weeks to find a job. I was paying for half the groceries and utilities at the inlaws house, and a small rent fee ($200). They were even charging their own grown, mentally handicapped son $400 in rent, and pulling it directly from his SS disability check.
We spent 3 months with them. It's hard to save money when your spouse is spending it as fast as you can make it, plus paying rent to your inlaws and half the utilities. Eventually, we moved into the local low income housing projects.
I was working for Securitas. Making $10 per hour. The rent was $550 per month. My beloved truck was a '91 F150 4X4 with a 5.0 and granny low and straight pipes, and my daily commute was an hour and a half to and from. My wife was spending $100 per week for a babysitter so she could work for 10 hours a week at 8 bucks an hour. When I finally got her to see reason, that we were actually spending $20 bucks a week for the privilege of her going to a job (NOT counting any tax witholdings), she quit. I found out just recently that she continued paying $100 per week, two weeks a month, just so she could "take some time off" from responsibilities (meaning she found a few different guys that were swinging by the house after I was leaving for work, she admitted it during the trial).
We were so broke. We filed bankruptcy (which finally came off my credit report just recently). Then I got a call from my supervisor. Turns out, when the security officer certification board of NC do a background check, they talk to county sheriffs and all, and the county sheriff where I lived in Mississippi failed to affix an official stamp to his typed report. And so, I was told my services would no longer be needed until the situation was fixed. How long would that take? 2 weeks to a year.
As I was sitting at the table looking over the bills I couldn't pay, I came across my second eviction notice in a row. So I picked up the phone and called my old pipeline boss. He was pretty excited to here from me, and gave me my old job back, with the same pay, on the spot. I borrowed some money from my sister to get a bus ticket.
Oh... I'd traded my truck for something more economical, a '94 civic, right before I lost my job. If I'd known it was gonna happen, I would've kept the truck.
Of course my wife loved it. She was ****ing everybody. She even moved out of the apartment and into a trailer in the woods. Next thing I knew, I got a call from my new landlords, wondering where she was, where the rent money was, and when was I going to be coming over for another cookout (I'd never met them a day in my life). I still never found out what was going on, except that it involved yet another series of men (found out at the trial).
The beginning of 2009, her and our son came to stay with me in hotels across the south while I was working on the pipeline for a few months. This, I believe was from February to May.
She went back to her parents house, and in June of that same year, 2009, I got an umbilical hernia on the job (innie turned into an outie, and was growing daily...). I was put on temp leave. Worker's comp refused to pay up on anything, and I ended up having to later sue them later. I got wind that my wife wanted a divorce, and there was talk that she "must be seeing someone". This really broke me up again. I had to deal with that stress. I was staying at my Mom's house, awaiting my surgery date through the VA medical center in Jackson. Got the hernia fixed, and moved into a rental property my dad owns. I brought the clothes on my back. My ex was cheating the whole time.
Later, I won the lawsuit against the Mississippi worker's comp board, and was awarded a little over $4K. I told her about it, and she was ready to drop that divorce silliness right away and come on back to me.
I recovered from the surgery, and went back to work, but not on the pipeline. My dad owned a concrete business, and my one of my uncles owns a furniture store. I would leave from one job at the end of the day, and go to the other.
One day we had an argument. I told her I didn't think she was trying as hard as I was to make sure we could be a lifelong couple. That was on a Thursday night. The next day, a Friday, I bought a bottle of wine, a bunch of flowers, and came home to try and make up with her... And found the house empty. She had left, and had once again cut me off from my son. She wouldn't tell me where they were or let me talk to him. She did finally say that they were at her mom's, but I knew her mom had moved and so I didn't even know what state they were in.
It didn't take long (about a month) before she called me up and told me she'd had a fight with her mom. She needed money to come back. I lived off chili and ramen noodles for two weeks so I could have the traveling money to send her, and she came on home. I found out later (trial) that her mom didn't even know she'd left me, much less had actually seen her.
My ex had a huge fight with my Dad about another month after she came back, and he kicked her out. Being a faithful husband, I turned my back on him and left with her. I chronicled this pretty extensively in another thread quite a while back. Us and our son lived in a tent in the woods for a month or a little more, until we could get an apartment in town. I forgot to mention, while working 2 jobs, I had earlier went ahead and enrolled in the local community college, majoring in forestry. I loved it.
While we were living in the apartment (at this point, we were in Hernando MS), I had quit working for both my dad (for obvious reasons) and my uncle (just couldn't get the scheduling to work out), and took a job for my new landlord, doing upkeep at the apartment complex, renovations to get apartments move-in ready, and renovations/turnarounds/upkeep on his other rental properties (he had 8 total)
She never slowed down on the whoring around. The more time I spent away from the house, busting my ass with multiple jobs (I was also picking up a few odd jobs here and there, handyman stuff) and trying to get an education, the more she was spreading her legs.
When we moved into the apartment, that's when the abuse started. Interestingly, it was also the longest stretch of time we'd actually spent in each others company on a regular basis. She'd hit me once before, and I grabbed her wrist and shoved her to the floor, when we were living in NC. She told me then that if I ever touched her again she would call the cops and make sure I was getting butt raped in the prison shower for so long I would start to like it.
I was scared. She would start flailing, and I didn't know what to do. I would duck and cover, and get out the door. I knew from being an MP for a while, that if the cops were called, I would likely be the one being dragged out of the house just to remove me from the situation, regardless of who was actually the attacker.
I started ducking my head whenever I was spoken to. By anyone. She started emasculating me in front of friends, family, and in public. Whenever anyone reached in my direction, whether it be to shake my hand, or just grab a salt shaker off the dinner table, I would flinch and turn. I still have trouble looking people in the eyes.
Oh, she wasn't strong enough to cause any injuries. But, I still have the scars nonetheless. It took nothing to set her off. I could look at her and catch a fist to the face. While driving on ice once, I started to slide sideways in the car, and she punched me in the side of the head, right above the ear. I still managed to get control of the car.
Eventually, I started to get these anonymous emails. She had a job, a real one, finally. But these emails were saying that she was sometimes with someone else while she was supposed to be at work. They were saying that she was sending naked pictures to other men. I finally began to open my eyes. I finally began to see what I'd been trying to ignore.
Downsouth saved my life. He's been a great friend, and has been a strong pillar for me to lean on.
March 3rd, 2012, I took our son to baseball tryouts. Because he was in school at the same times I was, and I was working pretty much from home (my work commute, 9 times out of 10, was to step out my door, and walk to the other end of the apartment building), I had become pretty much a stay at home Dad.
I remember it very clearly. Tryouts were at 10, she had to be at work at 11. I asked her if she'd like to come, and she said no, that she had to get ready for work. "I thought that's what you've been doing? Your hair is nice, and you have your makeup and nice clothes on..." (SLAP) "Ok then... I guess I'll see you later this afternoon. I'll let you know how it goes."
Well, baseball tryouts went great. Turns out, he liked it too. We got him signed up, paid the $75 dollars for equipment, uniforms, and such, and went on home, with a meet arranged the next week for meeting his new team mates.
I got home, and decided to get online to post it all up on facebook, and discovered my computer wasn't working. Oh well, I'll use hers. I got on, and what I found was messed up. Some pretty provocative pictures. An open chat window with some dude in England. An open travelocity page, showing only "2 tickets, $1800... Buy now?"
I checked our bank account. I saw where I'd gone to the post office to get a M.O. to pay the rent. Then I saw another charge. I called the post office... "how much do two passports cost?"... I don't remember the exact number, but it was the same as what had been charged to our account.
What the hell? When she got home, I confronted her. She told me she had a friend in England and that yes, she has flirted online, but it meant nothing to her. She told me she was wanting to go see her friend in California (the one who helped introduce us, a good friend of mine now), and then she got mad and hit me a few times, yelling at me "that's why I don't want you looking at the bank account, you don't know what the **** your looking at", and then went outside and told the neighbor about how her "dumb ****" husband had pissed her off. She told me later that the pictures were for me and she just hadn't sent them yet, and hit me again when I asked her why she used the computer camera and didn't just use the camera on her iphone and text them to me...
The next day, things went okay. I only managed to piss her off twice. Later that night, when I was ordered to go to bed, I asked if she'd join me. "Why the **** should I? I don't have to get up early." was her response. Well... laying in bed wondering what I had done to make her hate me so much, I began to hear a little soft murmuring. Then I realized she'd just stuck her head into the bedroom to check on me. I thought that was sweet, and maybe she was feeling bad for the way she'd been treating me. I smiled and was kinda waiting for her to come join me. After a little while, I realized she was talking a little louder. I got up and peeked into the living room, and realized she was on my xbox, using the headphones to talk to someone.
I was hearing, "yes... I love you too. I can't wait to see you and finally **** your brains out while the faggot is in Colorado this summer. Yes, I promise you I'll be there. Yes, I'm coming to England this summer. I love you".
I went back to bed and texted my mom. Her and I are both WWII history hounds. We've always been interested in it. Her grandfather and all her father's brothers had fought, leaving my grandfather (her father) home alone with his mom and sister to run the family farm. I told her, "you know those WWII documentaries we used to watch? Where the planes were trying to land, and they were all shot up, on fire, and with entire sections missing?" she replied that yes, she did. "why, you want to come down for a weekend and watch a few?", I said, "no. I'm coming in, and I don't know if I'm gonna make it." (yeah, cheesy, I know, but it's how I felt.)
The next day, I went to school. I withdrew from all my classes. Then I hung around campus until I knew she was gone to work. I ran home and packed everything I could, everything that (son) and I would need, nothing extra. Then I went to his school and withdrew him, and we left. I'll be damned if I was going to have him taken from me yet again, and I sure as hell wouldn't be having him taken from me and to another country. We went to my mom's house.
When I got there, I was so drained from everything, that she practically carried me into the house, and dropped me on my bed. She's a tough old bird who was outweighed by at least 100 pounds. But when I fell walking towards the house, she caught me, threw both my arms over her shoulders like putting on a backpack, and dragged me in. Then she went out to the Nissan pathfinder I had at the time, and picked up my sleeping son and carried him in too. I slept for nearly a full day. It was the first time I'd had any peaceful, resting sleep in months.
There. That's the story of my marriage, and how it fell apart. Oh, I'm not perfect. I've never claimed to be. But I never mistreated her. There were many things I could've done, and many that I could've done better, but I never mistreated her. And I know now, that no matter what I might would've done then, it never would've made a difference, except maybe drag things out a little longer.
And we had our good times too, I won't deny that. Hell, we had some great times. And for the longest time throughout our marriage, I kept reminding myself that between the good and bad, the good out weighs the bad. I was lying through my teeth to myself. It never was good enough, and I should've moved on a long time before.
There are many little details I've left out, because this is just so damn long.
Sometime in the next few days, I'll tell the story of my divorce.