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I Married Only Half of My Husband: A survivor's story

Updated: 4 days ago

I Married Only Half of My Husband: a survivor's journal

With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts…

I remember a time driving in the truck with my angry husband. I was the passenger, and we were headed to do a quick job, so the kids were not with us. I don’t even recall what it was that set him off, as most times I wasn’t even a part of it; he would battle with something in his own head and usually when it finally exploded out loud, he would talk as though we had been conversing the whole time and whatever I was saying is what got him to this point of uncontrolled rage. As he continued to yell at me about topics that seemed minor, and we had not even discussed before (some that had not even actually happened before), he explained why he hated me and I was to blame for everything he was unhappy about. He began driving quickly and erratically, something that is especially frightening to me, as I already experience anxiety as a vehicle passenger. I remember my heart pounding as he weaved in and out of traffic, and he sped around corners; I can remember him trying to unbuckle my seatbelt and telling me he was trying to figure out a way to crash into something on just my side. I was looking around for a way out, confused and searching my panicking mind for the right words to say. He became angrier as my cries for him to stop just seemed to be interrupting his train of thought as he plotted my death. He grabbed my phone and threw it as I tried to call for help.

This, was the OTHER half of the person that I had committed my life to... and trusted to protect me... and he wanted to kill me. And it all seemed to happen absent of me or my input. I was trapped inside this deadly weapon that he was completely in control of. I was completely at the mercy of his mental illness, hoping and praying it would release its hold on him before he did something irreversible.

It now occurs to me just how much THIS feeling, in THIS moment, mirrored how I felt throughout our entire marriage. I was trapped in his false reality, I was completely alone, and my cries for help went unheard. From the outside looking in, it might have appeared as though I had some control of certain aspects of our daily lives... but the truth was, that absolutely everything in our lives tip-toed around his mental illness. His moods, his lies, his motives. I dealt with two distinct personalities, was victim to his constant mental abuse, and acted as scapegoat for his many lies and justifications. I was a victim of his illness and addictions... and until now, a victim of his secrets and lies. I journaled my experiences as an escape from these secrets, and a way to keep accurate account of a life that made little sense. I wrote down my experiences, not with the intention of being vindictive, but rather an intention to be validated. This life did happen to me, and pretending it didn’t was like being victimized again each and every day.

My writings are not intended to be shameful, vengeful or even saturated in self-pity... but rather just an open, honest, analyzed and heartfelt account of the experiences as they happened to me. They are stories of experiences and emotions that have never been spoken before, however, years of keeping it all so private and personal have damaged who I am, how I see myself, and my trust in others. They are therapeutic writings for me, but will hopefully be interesting, informative and most importantly helpful to others.


Recommended Read: I Believe You: escaping, understanding & healing from narcissistic abuse

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If this story resonates with you, leave a like, or share your thoughts in the comments below. Let’s support each other as we find the courage to seek out the lives we deserve.

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