the one about my marriage (pt 3)

(This is another hard one. Please understand if I don’t respond to comments. I post this stuff to be free of it. I post it for others who have lived through the same. You. Are. Not. Alone.)

January 1986. Shortly after the boy was born, the husband separated from the USAF. We moved back home into her house. There was no physical abuse in those 6 months. Just the verbal battles from before marriage. I could never understand why she stuck up for him, why she always blamed me for the fighting?

I finally got a job as a nurse. He hated the fact I made more money than him. Add this to his list of reasons to belittle me, tear me down.

July 1986. It was my turn for the USAF. I had signed up in college. They paid for half of my education. It was a very sweet exchange — 2 years of education for 4 years of service. I entered active duty as a 2nd lieutenant. He hated that too, said I thought I was better than him because he had been enlisted. But class, rank, status has never been a part of my makeup. I was, still am a respecter of all people.

It didn’t take long for his Mr. Hyde to show up again. He was back to telling me how stupid I was, how I couldn’t do anything right. He had trouble holding a job. He was getting drunk every day.

I reached a point where I didn’t want to come home from work, the little baby in my house suffering from neglect.

December 1986. I came home from the hospital after working an evening shift. I was hoping and praying that he would be asleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t asleep. The fight began immediately. He wanted to have sex. I said no.

Things turned ugly quickly. I ran upstairs to the bedroom. He attacked me, threw me face first onto the bed, tied me up like some kind of animal, and raped me. Again. I screamed as loud as I possibly could, my screams going completely unheard because the base housing was single-family housing. There was no help coming. Then he shoved my face so hard into the pillow if I would not have stopped screaming, I would surely have suffocated.

As I laid there being raped I thought, how did my life get here? How will I ever survive this? Blaming myself because at some point in our relationship I had encouraged rough sex, so it must have been my fault, right?

Somehow I did survive the night. The next day, when he was sober, he came to me crying, apologizing for what he had done. I wanted to believe he was sincere. But I looked him in the eye that day, told him in no uncertain terms, he would never touch me like that again!!!

I have no idea what possessed me, but I decided to give him one more chance. But you should know he NEVER raped me again!!!

To be continued…

His… Michelle

P.S. God is good! He never left me, even though I left Him. I wouldn’t be here today, almost 30 years later otherwise. His grace is sufficient! He loves me even through my shame.

Thank you for letting me tell my story through writing. I can still barely say these words out loud.


One thought on “the one about my marriage (pt 3)

  1. Your words make me uncomfortable. I don’t want to read them. It’s a reality I don’t want to believe exists. But you are breaking my heart for the broken people of this world (which of course includes myself). I am able to see the Lord walking through this story with you and there is hope beyond the edges of your words. xoxo

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