Just before my 19th birthday, I married Scott, a man I had dated in high school. On a whim we drove to Las Vegas with some friends and got married. My parents were upset by my impulsive decision. They asked me, “What were you thinking? Why did you do that?” It wouldn’t be the last time I was asked these questions and regretted my decisions.
Right away Scott began staying out all night, partying and sleeping around. Feeling hurt, I started cutting myself to cope. My emotional decline escalated rapidly, and I imagined suicide scenarios. Two months after our wedding I asked Scott to bring me to the hospital for help.
Parking at the emergency entrance we went inside. “I’m going to park the car somewhere else,” Scott said. He left and never came back. I was admitted and found out I was pregnant the next day. Prescribed anti-depressants, which I would take for the next 20 years, I was released 2 days later. Scott and I were soon separated and divorced. Shamed at being a single mom, I lost interest in going to church and had few friends.
Working the night shift loading and unloading semi-trucks, dark circles formed under my eyes. Arriving home from work at 11am, I’d fall into bed. Many days I had no time to sleep. Noel needed to be picked up from daycare before 5pm, but often I overslept, jolted awake by a ringing phone, the daycare wondering where I was. Evenings I tried to give Noel my full attention. At 10pm I’d carry Noel asleep to the car and bring him to my parents’ house; they took him to daycare in the morning.
When I was 21 Randy offered to move in with me and help with Noel. Living in a 2 bedroom apartment with a walk-in closet at the time, I doubted it would work, but he made the walk-in closet into his bedroom, paid rent, and became a great roommate. It is amazing to think of all Randy did for us. I am so grateful! Now Noel spent the night in his own bed. Mornings Randy made breakfast, helped Noel get ready for daycare and dropped him off on the way to work. He also picked Noel up and brought him home. Sometimes he fed Noel dinner while I caught up on sleep. He continued to live with us until I married again at age 23.
My second husband Chad was someone I also knew from high school, a “bad boy.” When we were teens he had a girlfriend and I became jealous. One afternoon our group of friends were hanging out at Chad’s house playing video games. I sat next to him and said, “I like you. I wish you’d dump your girlfriend.” He thought I was teasing and forgot all about it.
After graduation we drifted apart. Now as an exhausted and lonely single mother, I thought of him again and sought him out. Through connections with friends we met again and restarted our friendship. Randy was not happy. Looking back I can see it through his eyes. I saw Chad as an exciting rescuer, a rewind to a time before things went terribly wrong. Randy saw another bad decision with another bad boy.
Chad and I got married and had 4 children over the next 8 years, three more boys and a girl. I became a stay-at-home mom. Our marriage was immediately rocky and better resembled roommates than partners. I think we were both emotionally needy and unable to recognize the needs of the other. Without my income we struggled to pay bills, and soon I searched for ways to make money from home. In 2001 we moved to a small town 60 miles west of Minneapolis after nearly losing our house to foreclosure. Converting the front of our new home into an antique store and teaching community art classes were ways I made money.
My anti-depressant prescriptions were expensive and we rarely had medical insurance. When I went without I fell into black moods and deep depression, only able to maintain stability for a few months at a time. Even when I was not depressed I could feel black clouds closing in, and I’d wait to fall into despair.
One day a radio station mentioned a soldier who had been injured in Iraq, now recovering at the Minneapolis VA hospital. His family asked everyone, even the public, to come and visit him. The next day Chad came home early, and I shared about the soldier from the radio. He encouraged me to visit, so I did. Soon I became a volunteer for Soldiers’ Angels and later joined their staff.
My job at Soldiers’ Angels allowed me to work from home. I escaped into it, working 60 hours a week or more to avoid the rest of my life, which provided some emotional relief. I felt valued.
As my confidence at work increased, my satisfaction in my marriage fell. ‘Why am I not appreciated at home?’ I would think. Imagining all I did for our family my resentment grew against Chad. After awhile, my wages were greater than his and I seriously thought of getting a divorce, but whenever I considered leaving I imagined my parents’ disappointment in me. I finally appeared successful! I wasn’t eager to ruin the illusion my identity was rooted in.
I was desperate for help but too proud to ask. The fact that no one noticed this caused me to feel invisible and unloved. It was unreasonable, but I was trapped in self-pity. Truthfully, I don’t know what my husband was thinking or feeling at the time. After my arrest, I realized he was a mystery to me. We’d been married 12 years, but were never emotionally intimate.
As my second marriage soured, I wondered what I was doing wrong. By age 35 my second marriage became so toxic I’d grown bitter. In 2010 I destroyed my family’s life, my life. I had a sexual relationship with a 15 year old and was arrested.
