Michael and Trish had helped for days getting the backyard ready for our “barn party” reception. Everyone was drinking and we were playing music and having fun.
It was pretty magical for me.
People would ask me why I got back together with Jerry and I would tell them, “because I made a commitment to God, and I don’t think Jerry has a lot of time left.” I don’t know why I felt that way, but I felt like if I didn’t, he would die alone, and I couldn’t do that to him. I also knew that I would never be free from him. He was like heroin to me and after Kenny died, I needed the comfort of what I KNEW. Even if it was messed up and dysfunctional. It was my normal.
But as I drank with him (because FINALLY we had something in common) I spoke up more. If he said or did something to hurt me, I hurt him back. All the years of pent up hurt and anger came out when I was drinking, and I could be vicious with my words. This would often result in physical abuse. Pushing, shoving, choking.
I had a friend (former coworker from a brief stint I did in OKC) that we would go out with occasionally. She would always buy, and we always had fun. She had been to hear me sing the national anthem at the Blazer’s Hockey game a few times and we just clicked.
On this particular night, I loaned her some of my clothes. Fixed her hair and makeup and off we all went. Just the three of us. We agreed that she shouldn’t drive home so she was going to sleep on the couch at our house and go home the next day. I passed out on the couch and awoke to Paige telling me to wake up. She had walked in on this person giving my now husband a BJ. OUR DAUGHTER walked in on them. WHILE I WAS PASSED OUT ON THE SAME COUCH.
She’s lucky I didn’t hurt her. Instead, I threw her out of my house, in my clothes (minus her top) into the street and threw her keys at her. All the while she was saying, “I wasn’t having sex with your husband, I swear.” Bye Felicia.
Then I walked in the house and all hell broke loose. It was early morning and the sun was starting to rise and I was still pretty tipsy. But I grabbed a 4Loco and drank more. Every single time I walked by him, I knocked him upside the head with my open palm. This was the ONLY time I was physical with him and it was unacceptable then and now, but I’m not going to hide what happened either. “How could you do this to us?” Whack. “What were you thinking?” Whack. Until his earring (he had one ear pierced and was wearing a little fake diamond stud) hit the back of his head and made him bleed. Then he called the police on me.
I sat calmly in my chair, my 4Loco on the floor next to me. One officer had him outside and a lady officer was talking to me. I refused to get up from my chair and I refused to go outside. He didn’t press charges, but he was asked to leave, and he did.
I cried and then just told Paige, pack a bag. We headed to Arkansas. I needed to clear my head and be in my safe place and my sister’s house had always been that for me
I felt nothing other than anger and shame. I refused to take his calls; I took a leave from work. I stayed in Arkansas trying to get some clarity and all I felt was mounting fear. And desperate sadness. 5 days in I answered when he called.
I told him I’d come home but only if he’d agree to talk about counseling, about stopping our drinking, (by then I knew it was a problem for me as I was using it to cope) about repairing a family ravaged by poor choices. He agreed. And we went home.
I tried to explain it to Paige on the way home (she was driving). She hated what we had become (we as in Jerry and me) and it hurt her to see me so clearly screwed up.
We talked as a family. We set boundaries. We set up marriage counseling. We cut back our drinking, we made dinner together and ate together. But the damage was done, and I had no hope in me or us.
I lost my job at OU as a result of all of this. Job abandonment. My good friend was my boss and even she didn’t know the depths of where I was. She does today and is one of my biggest allies and supporters. Life has a way of repairing itself sometimes.
Losing my job was actually a relief to me. I was so tired of pretending to be okay when I wasn’t okay. I needed SOMETHING. But what? I was too ashamed to talk to anyone honestly about what had been going on for so long, about how deep these wounds were. “What would they think of me?” Besides, I’d been sugarcoating everything for SO long, how did I spill the truth to ANYONE? I couldn’t. Not my family and certainly not his. I had never confided anything to them that would paint him in a bad light.
I would find that not working was definitely not the something I needed. We drank more, hid our drinking from Paige (she knew) and gave up after a few counseling sessions.
I got a job at a plumbing company and one day I came home to find Jerry’s best friend (who I also loved) was there. I always enjoyed him, and he and Jerry could tell stories for hours that had me belly
