Throughout the duration that I was in Germany with him, he constantly accused me of cheating on him and being pregnant. “Wow,” I thought, “That’s a ridiculous claim.” He asked me why I couldn’t be the typical army wife. Due to my research and what others have said, both of the above statements are contradictory. You see, I knew a lot of military personnel. They were always telling me about how either they or their fellow service members were finding their spouse to be cheating on them. I have nothing to base this on as actual evidence, for all I have is word of mouth. So I was under the assumption, at the time, that the typical army wife cheats on her husband whenever possible. My own husband even told me stories about how he would see the wives run off the first chance they got to have sexual intercourse with a man other than her husband. So why exactly was he wanting me to be a typical army wife. What I gathered as his definition of a typical wife was someone who was loyal and obedient to her husband. This I did fulfill. I was the loyal wife he wanted and deserved. I consistently gave him my all.
I had gained some weight between our marriage and my trip to Germany. He looked at this as my being pregnant. He did not want to listen to the fact that woman generally gain some weight during stressful and emotional times. The amount of weight varies from one person to another, but it does happen. Obviously, he could not have been the one to plant the seed and cause my pregnancy, so I was cheating on him. I will share some insight on how closed minded my husband really was. I am infertile. I am unable to get pregnant due to a medical condition. He knew this. He was well aware of this fact about me well before we said our vows. But yet, he still insisted I was pregnant and cheating on him. Well, let me clarify a little. I can get pregnant if I used fertility drugs, and even that can be a hit or miss and take years to be effective. He had been away for 6 months; there is no way that I could have gotten pregnant in that short amount of time, assuming I was actually cheating on him. I didn’t want to be with another man in that way. All I wanted was him, and he refused to believe it.
Upon returning to the states, my parents met me at the airport and were there when they were supposed to. They were actually a few minutes late, but by the time I found my luggage and pulled it off the conveyor belt; they were there with open arms. They asked me how my trip had gone and I told them it was good. For the most part, it was. I figured I would get into the nitty gritty details later on in the week. I did not want to alarm them until after I had thought everything through and was certain of my next course of action.
Over the next few weeks, I felt broken, unappreciated and lost in what I considered my world of chaos. I continued to talk with my husband and tried to make sense of it all. I was contemplating divorce and at the same time, I was trying to look for ways to save the marriage. Every time I saw some hope, he would basically knock me back down again. If it wasn’t my supposed cheating, it was money. He constantly denied me my share of the BAH. He even went as far as trying to deny me my share of the tax return. Granted, when you are married it’s all supposed to go into the same place. He was insistent on having separate accounts. So I insisted that at least half of the tax return be allotted to me. I was able to squeeze a thousand out of him, even though half would have been $1500. I was reliant on the tax return to make final payments on credit cards and to get my wisdom teeth removed. Another thing with money is that I asked him for a little extra of the BAH so that I could eat. This was asked before my trip to Germany. He refused, and I noticed or heard from him that he would go out every weekend to bars and drink the nights away.
During this whole time, he would consistently put me down and felt that he was better than me. He may not have realized this, but it is how he came across. So this is what I was facing as well. I was at my wit’s end.
No comments:
Post a Comment