One Trauma at a Time


May 2, 2021

If I compare my childhood side by side with my marriage, it looks kinda like this:

1. My father never wanted to spend time with me

1a. My husband doesn’t spend time with me

2. My father physically and emotionally abused me

2a. My husband minimizes and invalidates my feelings and emotionally abused me

3. My father was emotionally absent

3a. My husband withholds sex, intimacy and affection

Talk about getting set up to fail 😭


May 4, 2021

so much of my past co-mingles with my present that I have a hard time processing or hubby does something that amps my symptoms. I hate being trapped in this‘Purgatory’ of healing and not.


May 5, 2020

I truly understand now what the old adage, “When you love something, let it go,” means. I never thought I would wish for someone to let me go, yet, here I am. I can’t figure out why anyone would want to stay in a relationship with an SO that is unhappy. If the other party is aware they cannot connect, even at a middle ground, why try to salvage an unhealthy relationship? For him, it may be fear of growing old and being alone; I already sacrificed my soul to save our marriage, he isn’t interested in going to counseling, “It’s a waste of time and money.” What choice, then, is left? Being labeled a home wrecker because I chose the pursuit of MY happiness for a change? I’m always putting my needs, feelings, hopes and dreams aside to be there for him and my daughter; I have no problem handling my responsibilities; however, I feel only take from him without any give. Whatever, whenever he can get me to do, he’s happy about it, but when I express my needs he’s angry or defensive. There is no compromise, no deep conversation, no hugs, kisses of passion, no sex; only responsibilities we both have (going to work, chores, dinner, paying bills, etc.), and what he does of those are to, “Show that he loves me.” From my POV, those are menial tasks that every adult must do, not displays of love and affection. I’m a cuddler, a hugger, I still like to make out; When we got together, he told me he liked those things; but once I moved in with him cuddling made him too hot, he wouldn’t kiss me because he had ‘cotton mouth’, he wouldn’t get close to me because he didn’t want to turn me on. What in that description is a marriage worth saving? My logic says, “Nothing.” But, no matter what I said, he always found a way to make me feel guilty so I stayed. Atp, my life is lonely 😞 My best friend of 23 years passed away in 2011, and he always minimizes my grief by saying, “she was my friend, too!” That is true, but we spent time together in school, roller skating, having midnight coffee, playing shopping cart tag at the grocery store, sharing stories of our past; present and what we dreamed for our future, we cried together, supported each other during the tough times, shopped for underwear when we were depressed, we’re each other’s Maids of honor and even dissected a pig’s heart together. He was never a part of those things. Those times were shared as “girl’s time.” They were some of the happiest moments in my life. So, to minimize the pain and devastation of losing the person close enough to be my sister is an atrocity. That isn’t the only time. I suffered a miscarriage in 2002. I ended up in the hospital during a ferocious snowstorm. The nurses encouraged visitors to leave for their safety because it was nearly a whiteout. I thought my husband would stay with me, but he didn’t. His mom drove us there (he is not licensed); so when the nurse asked if he’d like her to set up a cot for him, he said he wasn’t staying because he had to work and wouldn’t be able to sleep there and was worried about his mom driving in that mess by herself. It seemed reasonable at the time, but as I look back on how I felt lying in that hospital room alone, I am sad and hurt. I feel as though I was abandoned at one of the lowest times in my life. I suffered a second miscarriage in 2004. I was seeing a different OB/GYN, and she felt there was a problem because I miscarried both times at 5-1/2 weeks. That one was different than the first because I had to wait a week for my body to realize I was carrying dead tissue. Once I noticed blood, I called my doctor. She told me to see her immediately. So I cleaned up and left; however, I left the dogs outside and the back door wide open. I called my MIL and asked her to leave my husband a message on our answering machine for when he got home from work explaining what happened. He called my cell when he got home and shouted at me like I was lower than dirt. Through tears, I asked if he checked the messages - he didn’t. I told him to call me back once he’s listened and hung up. I was already upset and his yelling only made me feel worse. He called back a few minutes later and apologized, but atp, I didn’t want to talk anymore and just said goodbye. At the doctor’s office, I experienced pain like never before. She wanted to send the remaining tissue to a lab to find out the cause of my losses; she performed a DNC without any anesthetic. I knew it had to be done, so I laid on the table and gently cried as my mom stroked my forehead. The next few days were horrendous. I was depressed and contemplating suicide. Getting up to use the bathroom felt like I was doing boot camp cardio. I hated people, and I hated living. Yet, I received flowers from my husband’s best friend’s wife and was accosted by her and my husband because I didn’t call right away and say thank you. I was told, “You hurt her feelings.” I was grieving, and my tolerance for all things was low. I knew I should have called, but because of my mental state, I couldn’t speak without crying. I didn’t want to subject anyone to that. The following day, I was screamed at again by my husband because I was still in bed when he came home from work. “It’s 4:00 in the afternoon! You need to get off your lazy ass and do something!” That’s when an anger boiled from inside me and I said, “Leave me alone! Don’t come back in here until you can speak to me like I’m a human being!” Then, I covered my head with my blanket and passed out. He’s since apologized, but my heart was already shattered. The longer I stay and the less he’s affectionate, the less I care about him. Around the fall of 2014, he ignored me for nearly 2 years. He’d turn on the TV and I’d go to the bedroom. I’d try initiating conversation, but he wouldn’t engage. I tried initiating sex, he’d reject me. I had never felt despair until then, and these things he says, “You need to get over it. What’s past is past. I don’t wanna hear about it anymore.” Yet, I was traumatized and he’s never changed.


May 8, 2021

I have got to get out! I just found out that while I was in the hospital having back surgery, my husband was chatting it up with one of his ex girlfriends. The kicker? It was Valentine’s Day. It seems they’ve been chatting all day every day since November 2019. So much for the lie that he has no “friends.”
May 8, 2021

I have got to get out! I just found out that while I was in the hospital having back surgery, my husband was chatting it up with one of his ex girlfriends. The kicker? It was Valentine’s Day. It seems they’ve been chatting all day every day since November 2019. So much for the lie that he has no “friends.”
You deserve more WW


May 15, 2021

It’s interesting when you just let yourself go. Especially, when you have been abused and need to get that stuff off your chest.

I spewed everything my husband has ever done to me in the past 25 years in a matter of minutes without even having to pause for a thought. I told him I won’t beg, I won’t fight, I’m exhausted from battle in a one-sided war. I know nothing will change because he doesn’t want to change. Our time has ended because without the will of the other, we’ve gone as far as we can go. I deserve to be someone’s priority, I deserve to be loved and respected without having to ask, I deserve better. He tried to get me to change my mind by saying, “What if I talk to your therapist?” I told him not to say he wants to go to therapy just so I won’t leave. He’s promised to seek medical attention before and lied about it, so I knew he was blowing smoke. I am officially done with this one-sided marriage. However, I don’t hate him; I am actually grateful to him for teaching me that I need to love myself and change the nasty voices inherited by my parents and him. I have a job interview next week for a position that will steer me back to Independence Road. I’m looking forward to a place of my own; a place where there are no longer eggshells beneath my feet - peace and solace at last.


you do deserve better. and i am sorry that he has minimized your experiences in this way. your experiences are a big deal. they mean a lot to you and matter to you. just because he has the feelings as well does not mean you are disallowed from your own. it sounds like each day you are gaining more strength and insight to what is the biggest priority, yourself.


June 10, 2021

I am beyond frustrated. I’ve tried so many apartments that I just wanna scream. Either none are available or my income isn’t enough. He could make things easier, but of course, he won’t. We have an apartment upstairs; if he’d move downstairs, I’d pay rent but he refuses and I feel tethered. I’m holding back tears at this point.


Summer 1977

My three-year-old self trembled like an earthquake. I felt as if my feet were encased in cement. I knew I was in trouble for disobeying, and I hated Daddy’s voice when he was mad. I kept trodding toward the house repeating my apology over and over in my head.

“This is dumb. Why am I scared? Daddy won’t hurt me. He loves me.” I thought.

As I approached the driveway, he stood at the gate. His eyes revealed to me a stranger, and my stomach burned.

“Didn’t your mother tell you, “not to get wet? Say?” He shouted.

I stood, frozen, like a garden gnome. I tried to speak, but it was as if something stole the air from my lungs.

“You better answer me or you’re gonna get more than what’s already comin’ to ya.” He yelled.

My tiny bones rattled, as I realized I was in danger.

“I didn’t mean it, Daddy. I just wanted to get my feet wet... I fell.” I screamed out.

“You’re a liar!” He roared.

Then he yanked me up off my feet and carried me to the backyard. There was a metal folding chair with its back legs dug in the dirt. With one arm, he jerked the chair upwards and replaced it as he squeezed my waist with the other. He set me down, and slid off his belt.

“You better not move. You so much as blink, you’re gonna get it worst.” He growled.

I was wide-eyed and paralyzed. My insides felt like they were on fire, and I thought my heart would leap from my mouth. He grabbed both of my arms and flung me over his lap.

His arm flailed the leather strap over every inch of my moist skin. I squirmed, screamed and protested; he just kept hitting me harder.

“You better be still. It’s only gonna make it worse!” He Yelled.

I couldn’t tell if the beating lasted 20 minutes or half an hour, but for me, it was an eternity. Time seemed to slow. It was like being in a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up.

When he finally stopped, I couldn’t move. He pushed me off his lap onto the ground and I ran inside to my room and curled up beneath my blanket sobbing, slobbering and hyperventilating. I heard his footsteps coming toward me, and I froze; yet, my body continued jerking and shaking from the torture I’d just endured.

“You gonna lie to me again? Say?” He yelled.

Still crying, I barely whispered, “No.”

“I cant hear you!” He screamed, and yanked the blanket off me.

“You better answer me when I’m talking to you! You gonna lie to me again? Say?” He shouted.

I shook my head. He threw the blanket at me and said, “You can stay in here ‘til your mother gets home. I’m sick of looking at you.” Then, he slammed the door.

Despite my pain, I fell asleep.
This is how I behave and I do not mean to. It is not intentional or personal. It’s a problem within. I’m sorry for your pain. Thank you for sharing.


June 24, 2021

I’m getting out of this negative air. I can already feel the sun’s warmth on my cheeks. I found a place for my daughter and I to finally experience joy and peace. No more angry outbursts, no more cringy vibes; just her, me and (hopefully) the cat I promised her.
I got promoted at work and start the new job on July 4, then move in to a new place before the end of the month. I cried tears of happiness today because my persistence paid off. I know there will be some grieving for the loss of a 26-year marriage, but there will also be strength and growth in spite of it.


June 29, 2021

The landlord is fixing the house to get ready for my move-in day. He is an angel in a suit who should receive the Humanitarian of the Millennium award for his kindness.

Life is so strange to me now. I am still with my husband, but his lack of emotion baffles me. I’m not saying he should curl up and cry, but maybe not act like it’s just another ordinary day when he’s losing his family 🤔