Hopelessly Holding On

I cried every day. Every single day, everything inside of me hurt. The loneliness I felt for my whole life expanded so much more after I got married. I thought he loved me. I thought he cared. I thought he was my best friend. Everything from the moment I said “I do” came down to how much expectations I had of him that he lied about when we said our vows.

I had hoped for unconditional love, attention, respect and friendship, all the things I had been investing in us all along. After all marriage was about us, not me. Instead I got blamed for everything that went wrong in his life. I got scolded for expecting affection and quality time and mere conversation. I was told “If you want anything special in this life you will have to do it yourself, no one is going to do anything for you.”

I wondered ‘why?’ so many times the word no longer had meaning. Was I that unlovable? Wasn’t I doing everything humanly possible to support him because he wasn’t even supporting himself? I did everything expected of a new wife and more. I was drained every day of the strength I used to hold on to us.

I was insulted daily about my body, my clothes, and my hair. I gradually changed it all for him. I became everything I never wanted to be, to please him. I was told to be careful with my words, “Words cannot be taken back after it’s been said.” I turned everything I wanted to say over and over in my mind and edited it repeatedly to appear respectful and caring of his feelings. He did no such thing for me.

The warmth we once shared now became cool, now that he had me, I was pushed aside for anything better to do. PS4, his phone, his family, his friends. The crying bothered him. I was annoying him. He hid from me in the bathroom, to not have to chat with me about anything at all. I gave more and more of me, the more he pushed me away. Marriage was supposed to be for life, God ordained and blessed, so I kept telling myself.

I woke up every day praying for a better day, a smile, a shared joke, a gentle touch. There were moments that made me feel like there really was hope underneath it all. I held on to those small memories to keep me trying and pushing through each day. When life got hard, he wanted to give up. He wanted to end it all, even though I supported him completely and he had no responsibilities to ever worry about.

I couldn’t share my thoughts or feelings with him, it stressed him out. The more I tried to discuss the short comings of us, the more he shoved me out his life. The special occasions started to pass without a word or celebration. He was too busy to plan, the games took up too much brain power, apparently. Suddenly he wanted out. Apparently he thought I wasn’t there for him and I left him alone to deal with the hard times in life. I wondered when he had ever shared anything with me to begin with. I begged him to give it another try.

Another try and we smiled at each other occasionally, we held hands and shared jokes, and spent some time talking about random topics. My hair was long and lovely and pink. I began to like to changes he asked of me. To grow out of my comfort zone and try new things. I changed into someone else completely, but we finally had a chance to be happy. Life wasn’t crushing us, as much as before. He’d caress my cheek and kiss my lips gently. We woke up comfortably and peacefully together. We supported each other. 

New endeavors came our way. New jobs and new people came into our lives and with that, everything good began to crumble. She was nineteen years old. She seemed so harmless. Then began the messages. The messages of nothing important that needed to be discussed all weekend. Messages that went on all hours of the night after all day of being together in work. Messages that turned into voice notes that had to be turned all the way down for me not to hear. I inquired about everything. I was always met with an answer of irritation. I slowly became the nuisance in his life again.

His pursuit of this young tramp became unbearable. The tears I shed for the distance between us, were laughed at while the messages were too exciting and entertaining to even turn his eyes away from, to look at me in pain. He always said it was innocent. They weren’t talking about anything important, nothing personal. They never spoke about their personal life. She was fun and she was an escape for him. Then Covid hit our country and she hit our marriage like a category five hurricane.

The messages continued every waking minute of the day. First thing in the morning till last thing at night. Then the calls began. Suddenly, the hidden became apparent. She was never allowed to hear me talk to him. I needed to wait for him to mute the call so she didn’t hear me. Nothing in my lifetime ever hurt as much as that and expressing that was pointless. I was ridiculed and told I was crazy, they were just talking, just “friends”. The couple hours turned into an average of eight hours or more a day and when the call ended, the messages continued until time to turn in.

I told him go back to his own house if he insisted the “friendship” was more important than us. He packed, I panicked and caved and begged him to stay. He told me he’d stay once I didn’t bother him. My value was reducing as the days tallied up and he refused to stop talking to her. My tears were categorized under the law of diminishing returns. The more I hurt and cried, the less he cared. I couldn’t have been worth anything to him.

I thought I’d go crazy watching the person I devoted my life to, promised to love, honor and respect, continuously choose a child to talk to over the person who suffered the privilege to support him in every way and form over the years. He said I was driving myself crazy over nothing. I wanted him to tell her I was there with him when they talked, that he was married and I did exist. He said I was crazy and I would destroy everything if he introduced us. He was trying to protect her from me. I didn’t want to admit, she was his goal and end game.

It hurt when he snickered for hours on end on the phone. It hurt every time I opened my mouth to say something and her messages rolled in and he grabbed up the phone like a giddy school boy. It hurt every time he touched me and I wondered if it was me he was seeing. It hurt every time we went out and others would look at me and smile and his head was buried in his phone, not even acknowledging me. It hurt every time he talked about her and mentioned her name. I thought I would scream after a year of dealing with this and his obsession with her kept getting worst. He started stalking her to find out if she was online talking to other coworkers. Yet he told me I was yandere. I started to wonder if we both were.  

He said he understood how I felt, that he still loved me and he was still here, as if his existence in my space was some big consolation. After years of breaking me down, tearing up my confidence, walking over my heart, he destroyed the last of me using this teenager who seemed to not have a clue or a brain in her head. Fun made a man throw away loyalty for laughs. I couldn’t believe how selfish they both were.

I am only human. If I had it to do all over, I wouldn’t have gotten married to someone who I hoped would be better, eventually. I would have invested in myself. I would have worked hard to fill the loneliness in me, to not be so desperate for love and allow continuous mental abuse. I would have loved myself as I was and not stayed with someone who wanted to change every single thing about me.  I would have held on to my self-respect and not let anyone walk over me, since I’m completely independent otherwise, in any case. I would have put my peace and joy over anything else. Life isn’t worth much without that. I would have put God first. At this point I can’t even blame him anymore. I should have done better, for myself, stood up for myself.

Now I am broken and torn apart, destroyed and lying here in this beautifully filled bathtub with rose petals, surrounded by sweetly scented candles, starting to feel the coldness in my fingers that my marriage reflected over the last year. The tears flowing over my hot cheeks, after hours of crying and telling myself it will all work out. Right hand holding on to my chest, where it feels like my heart is always hurting. The blood running down my left hand, trickling down thickly over my palm and tickling my fingers dripping to my lovely, fluffy bathroom mat. “That’s gonna leave a stain,” I thought idly.

I hear the front door unlock and footsteps coming toward the bathroom and the loud hearty laugh he had when he spoke to her. The door opens and I see the phone slip from his hand and the horror in his voice “Baby, nooo.” My eyes close and I feel his warmth as he pulls me out the water and hold me against his chest, feeling his body shudder, I slip away silently, smiling at him as I always did, forgiving him deep in my heart. Maybe I made another mistake.

After she heard his dreadful cry though the phone, it dawned on her immature, silly brain, that he was indeed married and living with someone all along. The realization made her sick to her stomach, especially when the rumors began at work, her being the cause of his wife’s suicide. She was looked at with disdain and ridicule. Whispers passed through the office, “Nineteen year old seduced married coworker and destroyed his marriage causing his gentle hearted wife to kill herself.” They had no idea it was my husband who pursued her heartily. Women are often the first to be blamed in such cases, anyway.

He called and messaged her constantly trying to explain, hoping she would understand him and maybe forgive him, now that he was free of me, they could be something real. She was so disgusted, she avoided him at all cost at work. She was aware all eyes were on them to see their next move. Meanwhile my husband moved back into his mother’s house and grieved the conveniences of having me around doing everything for him. He was lonely.

The gossip became so out of control at his job, HR was forced to meet with both my husband and little miss thing to discuss their supposed in house relationship which was a big no-no. She told them he was harassing her and she tried to dismiss him as politely as possible, as a senior coworker, but he was relentless in his pursuit. In the end he was let go. He no longer had a wife, my home and support or his job. He still hoped his object of obsession would return to him. He called and messaged until the number was no longer in service. He tried waiting for her at the office and was told one day that she resigned. The shame she felt was so unbearable, she couldn’t take it anymore.

Sometimes we need a wakeup call to appreciate the things we already have. No ‘the grass is greener on the other side’. Everything that is important deserves the attention and encouragement it needs to flourish. I only asked for what I was promised on our wedding day. I gave everything to make him happy and satisfied and I was met with betrayal. His own obsession with having more or something different or better, cost him everything he already had.