Let Me Tell You Why I Am Thankful For My Abusive Ex-Husband
Missy aka Tizzy
On 8th February 2018
Sadly, there are too many women who have been victims of physical, mental, and emotional abuse at the hands of somebody that they love. I have been a victim of such abuse at the hands of my ex-husband. Not only was he a vicious abuser, he was also a serial cheater. Today, I am going to tell you my story and why I am thankful for the experience.
Being a victim of abuse is probably the worst experience of my entire life. According to ncadv.org, “On average, nearly 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States. During one year, this equates to more than 10 million women and men.” Statistics like those are extremely daunting. I feel like a drop in a bucket when compared to the bigger picture.
Please note that the images used in this article are not personal pictures. I am choosing to keep some anonymity.
My story starts out just like most other victims of domestic violence. In the beginning of our relationship, things were great. The two of us, along with my son who was five years old at the time, had so much fun together. We worked for a traveling sales company and got to spend our off time visiting places like Six Flags, the local zoo, visiting local landmarks and shopping…I think this is a good time to mention that I was very good at my job and made a decent income. He was not that great and barely made a fifth of the income I was bringing in. He was very stressed out because of this but did not seem to have any issues with me pretty much taking care of him. I was so happy to find someone that truly made me laugh and would defend me tooth and nail that it did not bother me that he could not keep up with me when it came to sales.
Like I said, we traveled for our job. Our next city on our itinerary was Las Vegas. Before heading out that way, he asked me to marry him, several times. I declined, stating that we had not been together that long and should wait until we knew each other better. We had only been together for six months. There was also an age difference between us. I was 24 and he was 19. I did not think he was ready for such a big step, especially because I also had a son to think about. But, my son loved him. The two were inseparable.
He really wore me down, though. After we were in Las Vegas, he asked again. I am part to blame here as well because I think I got swept up in the moment because two other couples also got married while we were there. I finally said yes, and we headed off to a chapel. He seemed happy, and I was happy. And, since we were married, our boss had to allow us to share a room while we were traveling, and I was all too happy to no longer have to share my hotel rooms with my roommate.
I do not quite remember how long after we married that he started to change, but I do know it was not long. He started to really freak out over what he was being paid. He even tried to fight our boss one night and I along with several men from our sales crew had to hold him back and calm him down. He became very jealous accusing me of cheating on him or allowing the guys on the crew hit on me. He also became nasty towards my son.
One night, while in northern California, I was working in the office at this time, no longer doing door to door sales, and he had not picked up my son from our on-site daycare. I went and picked up my son and went looking for him so I could leave my son with him while I finished up my office work. At the time, we were at a hotel that was shaped like a tall cylinder. All of the rooms went around the lobby. So, if we were on the fourth floor, people down in the lobby could see us walking around up there. Well, I found him and asked him to take my son so I could finish work. He started yelling at me and called my son a “faggot”. I was livid and had already lost my patience, so I mushed him (put my hand on the side of his head and pushed) and told him he was not to ever talk about my son like that.