My third marriage, the roller coaster ride.
I know, I’m not the only person that has ever felt like they were living on roller coaster. Life can be just like a roller coaster with all of the ups and downs, turning you upside down and not knowing what direction you are going or what is around the next turn. This is exactly how my third marriage played out, just like the roller coaster looping over and over in the picture above, repeating and repeating. The cycle kept repeating in my marriage also and it was not a healthy. I don’t know any other way to describe this period in my life, except comparing it to a roller coaster.
When I said “I do”, the harness came down and someone hit the start switch, it made me so sick but no one would stop the ride and that harnessed had me trapped, I could feel and hear the clicking and clacking of the ride making it to the top and then going over and losing total control. I felt like I was on a never ending ride.
Now, in this third marriage, I never knew what to expect when I would get home. Home is a place where you are suppose to be able to rest and relax, you know what I am talking about, your little abode, your little piece of heave, your escape from reality. When I would get home, reality became clear for me because my escape was going to work. Sometimes I would come home and it would be okay… then other days it was like the sky had fell. My husband would be in such bad, negative, and nasty mood and that mood was on steroids fed by booze.
Just like most people, when I would get off of work on Fridays, I would be excited about the weekends. I was ready for that break from that 9 to 5, 40 plus hours a week job. I don’t know why each Friday, I would get that adrenaline rush because most of the time I would be welcomed by a husband that just got paid and got drunk on his way home. It is so funny how we hold on to hope, because I was always hoping for was a decent relaxing enjoyable weekend my husband. I would later realize, just how much that job I was trying to escape was my refugee vs. my adult responsibility.
One of my tale, tale signs that he was drunk was when he would lay down on the floor in front of the TV and within about 10 or 15 minutes he would be out for the count. He would be passed out so deeply that I couldn’t wake him, his snoring became so loud that I thought my roof was going to blow. When this would happen my inner child would come out to play trying to prove to me that he was drunk. That inner chid of mine would start jumping up and down on the wooden floors, right beside his head trying to wake him up. When that didn’t work she would run around him, still with no results. Then she would make noise with anything she could right beside his ear and nothing would wake the dead.
That inner child of mine really knew what was best for me…she would convince me to go search for the evidence of his drunkenness…like I really needed proof. The thing is, when we are in denial and hanging onto hope for dear life, we need that proof shoved right in our face to wake us up. Sometimes we still deny. Anyways, my inner child and I would sneak outside like he was going to wake up and catch us…not! We were on a scavenger hunt to find the hidden proof we needed. I never considered myself a snooper but he gave good reason so I followed my gut and that inner child. I needed to know if he was drinking and driving again. I would always find the evidence to what I already knew was true.
I would do this time and time again, this ride just wouldn’t stop for me to get off.
You’re not alone, you are loved,
The Girl that was Abandon