The prompt I chose this week: What did you go through in order to get out?
When you're in a bad marriage, you just want it to end.
At least I did.
After twenty months of matrimonial chaos, I was ready to call it quits. My husband was clueless as to my desires - I'm not even sure he cared. He was glad that he could stay home all day and neglect The Boy while I was out earning a paycheck.
His days were filled with letting The Boy stay in his PJs all day and letting him cry in his crib while HE was napping and eating and making messes...and looking for women online.
Apparently, I was a bitch (that's what one woman told me).
Seems he WAS paying attention after all.
The whole soliciting women for sex online was the straw that broke this camel's back.
I spoke to my oldest stepson who told me that his dad beat his mom with a baseball bat when she attempted to leave - and he did it in front of the children.
Not wanting to be a victim of his rage (and not wanting my two-year old to witness a beating), I had to carefully plan my exit.
After work, I stared looking at apartments closer to my job.
At home, in the evenings, I organized "my" stuff. I rearranged bookshelves so that all of my books were in one section. I packed non-seasonal clothing into a suitcase in the closet. In a fake attempt to organize the kitchen, I suggested that I pack up "my" dishes, since they were taking up too much space.
I had one big problem - he didn't work. He was home all the time. How was I going to safely leave with The Boy?
Medical science came to my rescue. My husband wanted to have a gastric bypass operation in lieu of trying diet and exercise. His doctor scheduled some tests at a local hospital, so I had a date to work with.
I found an apartment and a daycare. I scheduled a moving truck. A couple of guys I worked with volunteered to drive the truck and help me load/unload.
We knew we had a small window of opportunity. The day of the tests, I drove my husband to the hospital. I rushed home and called my co-workers.
While I was waiting for them to arrive with the truck, I started throwing stuff in boxes and Hefty bags.
When they showed up, we moved into high gear and loaded the truck with the bare essentials. I left most of the furniture behind. I took only what The Boy and I absolutely needed.
We had the majority of the stuff packed in two and a half hours. When we were finishing up, the phone rang. I shushed the guys and answered.
My husband's testing was completed, he was ready to be picked up. I couldn't get him in my car - it was filled with our clothes.
I yelled, "Oh no! The Boy just spilled a pitcher of tea. I gotta go!"...and hung up the phone.
I then took said phone off the wall and put it in a box, and we left.
My husband waited for me. And waited...for five hours.
He had no cash. He bummed some money from people at the hospital and rode the bus home.
When he came in, he saw that things were gone. He actually called the police at this point. The officer came in and said, "It looks like your wife left you."
Sure did, Officer.
I don't recommend this approach. It was one of the most stressful things that I've ever done.
But a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do.