After my shower last night, on Friday 29 April, Ashton questioned me about a YouTube comment… repeatedly. I explained to him that I had heard that the algorithm likes the interactions. As usual, he didn’t like my response, so he kept prodding me. He is so insecure and afraid that I’m committing an impropriety when I respond to random strangers on my channel (or it could be anything else that I do; I never know), especially male. But, anyone can be anyone on YouTube.
I was annoyed and angry because he always invalidates every answer I give him for anything, I’m tired of repeating myself, and I’m so sick of him translating almost everything I do into cheating. We started fighting after I told him that I’m not playing his games or repeating myself.
I left the bedroom with a pillow and blanket, and I laid on the couch in the living room to get away from him. I was tired and already irritable from PMS and his annoying persistence. But, he came in and made things worse. He sat on the coffee table across from me and continued his accusations. I lost complete control. There was yelling, cussing, name-calling, and then a physical altercation where I attacked him first.
“I’M SO SICK OF YOU ACCUSING ME OF CHEATING ON YOU, YOU SON OF A B****!” I hollered at him, as I leapt off the couch in attack-mode.
I had already literally begged him to pause the conversation earlier, before I left the bedroom for the living room couch, but he was relentless. I started punching him and scratching him. He finally had to choke me to get me off of him, and even then I tried to land more punches, with his hands squeezing tighter and tighter around my throat until I relented. This physical altercation lasted for about 3-5 minutes.
He retreated back to the room; I hated myself. I became suicidal and before I knew it, I was in the kitchen and had a knife to my left wrist. When I realized what I was doing, I cried and sunk to the floor in despair, with the knife still to my wrist. It was so dull, though, that I would have had to apply too much pressure. I didn’t want our children, who were in bed during this entire altercation, to see that kind of violence.
A few minutes later, I pulled myself together and walked to the computer to look up divorce lawyers and how to separate from your spouse. The last time something like this happened, which you may read about here, I promised myself that I would at least separate from him. Ashton came out a few minutes later and saw what I was researching.
“Should I take pictures of the scratches, then, for the divorce?”
“If you want,” I replied.
“Do you really want a divorce?”
“No, not really; but I feel like we’re just not working out.”
I ended up sitting back on the couch and he sitting back on the coffee table. He started apologizing; I apologized, too. I hated how I responded; I hated myself. I felt so defeated, once again. I saw a sadness in his eyes at one point and it disturbed me, but he was still trying to “communicate” to me about why I would respond to a male stranger on YouTube.
It’s YouTube; everyone’s a stranger. How can he not understand that? It’s not like I respond to inappropriate comments or volunteer any personal information. I’m intentional about what I actually respond to, and I don’t hesitate to delete and/or report inappropriate ones. He knows this, and yet he still doesn’t trust me.
After Ashton had received enough reassurance from me and we had both calmed down, we finally went to bed. While Ashton fell asleep almost instantly, I cried myself to sleep, striving to stifle my sobs so that I didn’t disturb him, with suicidal thoughts racing through my mind. (This is typical for me – I have bipolar disorder and often struggle with suicidal thoughts.) I don’t want to die yet or commit suicide, but I felt like there was no way out. I’m too scared to separate, too scared of divorce, especially about how it would impact my children. They love their father, and he loves them. (But, how is our unhealthy relationship impacting them?)
I thought about what I needed to do before I killed myself: write meaningful letters to all of my loved ones so that they could have closure; be in good standing with God; and how I would do it. I would lay in the bathtub and OD on morphine. I had researched before that this was the most peaceful way to commit suicide – no bloody mess, no pain. Where I’m going to get morphine, I don’t know; so, I thought about carbon monoxide poisoning as well.
I also kept thinking about how much I hated myself for allowing this narcissistic man to control my life and turn me into someone I’m not, for not having the courage to leave him and allowing the abuse to continue, and for this ugly shell of a person that I’ve become because of 11 years of psychological torment. Why can’t I be better person? Why can’t I respond in love? Why can’t I let go of the negativity? WHAT THE H*** IS WRONG WITH ME?!! I’m so beaten down, and I can’t breathe.
But, today is… new. I resolve within myself to let go of having a healthy marriage and really start focusing on my own mental and spiritual well-being. I resolve to:
- let go of the negativity and the past,
- accept my husband for the narcissist that he is (though I don’t like him, I do love him; he is the father of my children),
- accept myself where I’m at in life,
- take responsibility for my part of the unhealthy behaviors in our relationship,
- forgive my husband and myself,
- and run back into the arms of Jesus after all of this backsliding.
Now, I just need to write out a plan and make it happen. Enough of this BS.