Monday, November 8, 2010

First husband (part 2)- My Own Personal Hell

The laser hair removal story was used to break up the harsh story of my first marriage.

So, to go back to the story, Josh and I married when I was 18 weeks pregnant.  Other than for obvious reasons, I married him because he threatened to leave me alone.  I was not working at the time and had no money to support myself.

I did have a great job with Delta Faucet Company.  I loved that job.  I was the head of the Commercial Division for the state of Virginia.  I traveled throughout the state, meeting with engineers and mechanical contractors to get them to specify and bid Delta faucets on commercial projects, like schools, prisons and hotels.  I had a company credit card, and I often took customers out to eat as part of my responsibility.  As you can imagine, this did not go over well with someone that was very possessive of me.

Despite the growing tension my job created at home, I was really good at it.  My first year in that position, I sold 621,000 commercial faucets.  The National sales meeting was to happen in Toronto, April of 1998, and I was told that I would be winning a National Sales Award, beating out 700+ other sales reps.

When Josh heard the news, he demanded that I quit immediately.  We fought for days, screaming at each other.  I was about twelve weeks pregnant, and he was threatening to leave me as a single mother if I didn't quit.  I finally gave in, and two weeks before I was supposed to receive my award, I gave my notice.  A week later, I tried to beg the company to let me keep my job, but they knew I was pregnant and told me I had to go.

Who's going to hire a pregnant woman now?  It took several months, but I got a job through a friend, working as an office assistant for a recruiter.  I worked for an older gentleman, about 55+ years old, just doing busy work until it was time for the baby.

During the pregnancy, our relationship got worse.  Josh was accusing me of sleeping with my new boss.  We would get unknown callers on the caller ID, and he would accuse me of having affairs.  If I ever checked the caller ID, he would see that there were no new calls, and he would assume that I deleted numbers.  If I was late coming home from work, even by five minutes, he was waiting in the driveway looking at his watch.  He would accuse me of lying and cheating if I wore my hair in a barrette instead of down.  He picked out my clothes every day.  He reminded me every day that I could never leave because nobody would want me.  He was the best I could ever do.  I had my own personal bully.

In addition to the daily mental abuse, I repeatedly asked Josh to smoke outside...cigarettes and pot.  He refused every single day.  And for months, while pregnant, I sat in a cloud of smoke in every room.  He would even smoke laying in bed while I slept.  I couldn't get away from the smoke.  No matter how much I begged, he wouldn't stop.

When I was 32 weeks pregnant, Josh and I drove to Bristol, TN to attend a baby shower thrown by his father.  The whole way there, Josh berated me on all the things I did wrong in the relationship.  I still had the marriage certificate laying in the car, and he grabbed it, writing on the back all the things I constantly did wrong and how I was going to fix them.

While in Bristol, we went to parties of Josh's friends.  Everyone smoked and drank the entire time. Pills were being passed around in a candy dish, and Josh was one of the first ones taking them.  He didn't even know what they were.  I was seven months pregnant, standing in a mobile home, just trying to avoid getting tackled, while the drunk guys got into physical fights.

On the return home, about five minutes after leaving his father's house, Josh pulled out his pipe to smoke pot in the car.  I had enough and I grabbed the pipe and threw it in the back seat.  At 80mph on the interstate, he slammed on the brakes.  We hit the guardrail and he jumped out of the car screaming at me. Shaken and terrified, I refused to get back in the car.  I sat on the ground and cried for about an hour.  He was so angry that he threw the keys at me and started walking back to his dad's.

Eventually, I calmed down and drove to pick him up.  We didn't speak the entire four hours home.  I was in prison.

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