People who left a comment, thanks for taking the time to say what you were feeling. I appreciate it--and your concern.
I write about my life because it helps me examine my reality, which also helps me make better choices.
Your reactions surprise me because I am numb to it after so many years. I am terrified during the moments when he is in a violent rage, but when it's over I can pretend that it didn't happen.
He is extraordinarily sweet and tender at times, which made it all the more shocking when he turned into a monster. I am not shocked anymore, but I’m still usually surprised at the intensity of his anger and his ability to go from 0-100 in about five seconds. I don’t understand that kind of high voltage ferocity. I’ve never felt that way in my life.
I’ve learned to surrender to it and try and coach him down a few notches or to even beg and plead.
After I began telling some of the truth about my relationship to my family, it made me have to accept the truth. Writing about some of the episodes from recent recall forces me out of denial too. It's all part of being honest with myself. I’m forcing myself to see the truth on my computer screen instead of forcing myself to delete certain things.
I was so afraid of the powerful feelings that I had when I thought about it that I just chose not to allow myself to face them. The few times that I did face them I became an insomniac.
At this point, I am mostly past losing sleep over it. I use exercise, writing, reading, watching movies and activities with my kids to look past my less-than-pretty marital issues.
I have planned to leave on many occasions and have even done so a few times. He apologizes, and I see how physically attractive he is--and think about our intense and fulfilling sex life and cannot imagine living without it.
Sex with him feels like I’m kissing a serpent. I feel like I’m sucking on danger and tasting evil parts. I wonder why I’m addicted to it. I wonder how an orgasm can feel so good when it’s laced with contempt for the person who is pushing and pulling my core. I distrust him, but he pierces me with pleasure.
He provides me with plenty of money. He came in second place in a poker tournament last Saturday and he gave me more than half of his winnings. (I paid bills with it because I’m a practical to the point of boring.) He also hands me a generous amount of cash each week to deposit in our checking account.
He’s also the father of my children. I wanted to be a family. I could not imagine ever sharing them—taking turns with them. They are the reasons that make my life important--everyday. I am deeply in love with my son and daughter. I wanted to protect them and provide for them as a unit.
I never gave up hope. I never wanted to quit trying. I tried so hard to be a loving, seductive, supportive wife. I didn’t want to admit that I failed to make him happy.
I am at the point where I realize that even more anger management therapy cannot change his innate temperament.
I love him very much, but I don't feel safe living with him. It makes me very sad.
I don't want to go to a women's shelter. I want to do it on my own. I am hoping that by this summer I will have negotiated a friendly split. I also hope that once we are living in separate homes we can be friends. I am not bitter and I hope that his life will be happier when he is free of me.
I want to move on with my life and find a healthy and sexy relationship with someone who doesn't have a hot temper.
I don’t want to be intermittently afraid and numb anymore. I just want to be a good mother.