This was late 80's so long before cell phones and Venmo or even Walmart money transfer. We were in New Mexico with no way to get further than the tank of gas we just bought and no way to eat.
The only thing I had was my jewelry, some of which my mom gave me. Crying uncontrollably, with Jerry promising me he would get it back or replace it, I gave him the treasured things I had on. He sold it all at a local pawn shop.
I think I cried until we got to Oklahoma. I had nothing left of my mom's. Not even the beautiful little "love" ring she bought all her girls and herself.
I had Jerry and I had Paige and we were staying with his folks in Oklahoma until we could get to Arkansas. And I desperately needed my sister and brother in law.
Chapter 14
Selective Amnesia
*** Trigger warning *** to anyone who's suffered abuse, this may be difficult to read.
Do you ever have selective amnesia? Like you remember some things so vividly, but others are just a blur? Or they are foggy?
That's how I am about actually getting TO Arkansas. But I do remember we moved into a little duplex off Kibler Road in Van Buren. It just happened to be the same duplex I lived in as a teen with my Danny Ray’s sister.
Jerry's folks brought us some furniture. A table with red rounded back chairs and a metal frame bed (full sized) for he and I. We already had a couch, though I'm not sure how we had a couch. Isn't that weird?
Jerry got a job at a local cabinet shop and I worked part time at a small local grocery store.
One day, Danny Ray just showed up at my house. I'm sure his sisters (who I had been in contact with) told him I was back in town. I was nervous, but happy to see him. We had managed to remain friends, so there was nothing to worry about.
Jerry was very charming and pleasant to Danny Ray, but I could sense an undercurrent of anger. I knew that I would be in trouble because he stopped by and I wasn't wrong.
He was livid. He told me that he had no business coming by, asked me if I had spoken to him before (I hadn't) and why did he think it was okay to just come over uninvited. Of course, my answers were, "I don't know" "Nothing is going on, we're just friends".
Paige was little then (right at 3) and later that night when I could tell that the beer was making him mouthy, I took her to her room, and we played until it was her bedtime.
I was praying he had passed out, but he hadn't yet. To eat up some time, I took a long, hot, bath.
I checked in on Paige and went to bed. To my surprise, Jerry was still awake and still angry. That was the first time he abused me sexually. He told me I must like it. He asked me if this was how Danny Ray f*cked me, he held my arms down and said he would show me how a husband should treat his wife. He reminded me that I was his and no one else’s and that I better not forget it. He called me horrible names. And the whole time, I kept quiet so I wouldn’t wake Paige. Even when he had his hands on my neck, or my forehead, holding me down. I did not make a sound.
When it was over, I rolled over and sobbed quietly into my pillow, praying he wouldn’t hear me crying. Praying he’d stay asleep and wondering what I could have done differently. And the answer was, nothing. There was nothing I could have done to change what had just happened to me. To us.
The thing with abuse is that the next day, everything is back to normal. As if it never happened. He was his kind, loving self again. I was convinced I imagined it all and told myself it really wasn't that bad and that he WAS my husband after all. And I told no one. Not even my sister.
I reverted to my old habit of acting like it never happened. In retrospect I can clearly see that it was simply my coping mechanism.
Our lives returned to what they were, laughs, dinners, church, family get togethers. And I made sure to let Danny Ray's family know that he could NEVER come over again.
I loved him. Fiercely. He was a fun person to be around, he loved me to the extent he was able. He adored his daughter. Even if it wasn’t picture perfect, it was our perfect.
I thought for so long that no one could understand him, that I was the only one who truly loved him. Everyone else had given up on him. And I was going to be the one who loved him in spite of everything. I would NOT give up on him.
And I never told his family (or mine) what was REALLY going on.
He wasn't awful all the time, as a matter of fact, most of the time he was wonderful, and I even liked him. We danced in the kitchen, we grilled out, played board games and Donkey Kong, and we made memories.
THIS. THIS is the real side of how the abuse cycle happens.
People who haven't been on this side can't possibly understand. It's a dance of your emotions. But it's also a juggling act of keeping all the balls in the air and it's exhausting.
Chapter 15
The Same Only Different
Our lives continued in much the same fashion. I was careful with my actions and words, so as not
