Chapter 29: Colorado

Day after day, I started to build this false reality around me just so I could survive.  There really was hope.  Josh really did love me and getting out of the Army and moving back to Colorado would be just the think we needed.  Although Tasha lived in Colorado, I completely ignored that fact, hoping that once we were with my family again and had the additional support and new job my dad had lined up for Josh, then we could focus on our marriage and right everything.  I had a dear friend who asked me over and over again if it was time to leave, time to be done, but then she would always ask: what do you feel is right?  What is your inspiration, your guidance? And the answer for me was stay.  Try.  So I did.

Christmas came and went.  It was sweet as Dorian was old enough to open his presents by himself and like every two year old, was overjoyed at each and every toy.  The day was mostly a day for Dorian and he lived it to the fullest, passing out exhausted that night.  I can’t say I had a lot of holiday spirit so the coming and going of the holiday season meant very little to me.  With the New Year came more confidence of raising both children.   It even got to the point where I could go grocery shopping with both of the children! I was successfully accomplishing little mile stones that kept me going.  As I felt I was moving up, Josh seemed to be spiraling downward.

The closer Josh’s discharge date came, the more disturbed he seemed to get.  He started taking large amounts of money out of our account, refusing to give me explanations on what he was blowing our meager income on.  He started coming home later.  His temper was even shorter where not only was he yelling at me, he was now yelling at his son.  He would even get frustrated with the baby and even holding her seemed to be too much for him as even that simple act overwhelmed him.  I began feeling like a single mom as I was the one solely caring for the children.  I was scared to leave him at home with the children as I didn’t know what sort of monster I would return home to after just a short hour or two because once he was overwhelmed he was mean and he was angry.  There was absolutely no communication between the two of us and I could feel this anger he held all the time.  He yelled, he screamed. He cursed at every little thing and once again I couldn’t recognize the man I was married to.  This man used to make me feel like I was the most special and important girl in the world, but, now he made me feel like a fat, disgusting, judgmental piece of crap.  And sadly, I began to believe him.  I felt like everything I did wasn’t good enough.  I knew I was overweight, especially with all the baby weight; maybe that’s why he dreamed of her instead of me; maybe that’s why he exhausted his resources on porn rather than attempting to touch me.  I had been struggling with adjusting to two kids, maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a mom; maybe I was a failure.  I was destitute and unable to understand his lack of faith so maybe I was a horrible person; maybe it was my fault he didn’t feel accepted.

Josh also made other comments that disturbed me greatly, to the point I even contacted his commanding officer with my concerns.  True and very believable concerns based on statements Josh had made to me several times and on several different occasions.  While I was addressing my concerns with his commander I felt there was concern shown.  Yet, even just later that night I quickly saw how it was brushed off.  The officer contacted Josh, asked him a question and contented with Josh’s answer, it was quickly dropped and forgotten.  Once again I was enraged with the institution of the Army, realizing the care and concern for the soldier and the family they profess was once again nothing but an empty promise.  I was lost.  I seemed to be failing as a wife, as a mom and as a person.

Life was hard, and it just seemed to get harder every day.  Every single day I would wait and hope for his return home, which seemed to get later and later.  And instead of him giving me relief with the kids when he was home, an opportunity to fill my cup, or even an understanding of what I was trying to accomplish during my day I felt beaten and destroyed by his instant criticism which started killing the hope.  I began to dread Josh’s return from work, until one day it came to crux.  Dorian, just barely two had done something any two year would have done, but it had been enough to set Josh off.  Yelling and anger that was reserved usually for me, was spewed out to my precious little boy and something inside of me snapped.  I jumped in, sending Dorian to his room and yelling back at Josh that what he was doing was unacceptable.  I was aware he was coming home completely wasted, putting his life in danger while he drove in such a state and them putting a fear inside of me and now the children with his anger and I couldn’t live with it any longer.  I couldn’t live with his temper and his sharply worded assaults any longer and I just couldn’t live with him any longer.  I let him know it was time for him to leave.  It was obvious he didn’t want to be here, a part of our family and no one wanted him here being in the state he always seemed to be at when he came home.

Josh packed a bag and left.

We were separated.  Josh went and bunked with a fellow soldier just a month and a half before our move to Colorado.  My marriage was over.  My husband didn’t want me.  The porn, the drinking, the smoking were all more important than I was.  Yet again, a new sense of reality hit me.  After six years of marriage, and eight years of loving him, he willingly walked away.  Amellia was only six months old; still breast feeding, still needing so  much, while Dorian was my hyperactive two year old who idealized his dad and just didn’t understand why dad wasn’t coming home.  I tried to arrange times with Josh for him to come over and see the kids, but many times he was hours late or simply just didn’t show.

 I cried all the time.  I cried for all the lies and deceit I realized my marriage had been comprised of.  Josh admitted he loved me in the beginning, but that he had always been striving to be what he thought I wanted, and now, six years later, the truth of it was that he never felt like this person he had been for me, was who he really was.  He resented me for his double identity, blaming me for his unhappiness.  He admitted to smoking, drinking, and other lifestyle choices throughout all the years of our marriage, that I had been blind and unaware of.  He brought up instances that took place in our first year of marriage that had hurt him, saving them and bottling them up, never telling me until six years later, after he had already emotionally checked out.  He made me very aware, after the fact, of all the mistakes I had ever made over the years within our marriage.   He said that he stayed with me since he returned home from deployment out of expectation and obligation, but not because of love.  He said he tried to be a dutiful husband despite not loving me, but in the end, it was just too much.  Me, the children, the life, were just all too much for him to handle.  I cried.  I never stopped crying.  I cried for my children.  It just didn’t seem fair to fight so hard for these miracles, to then have to have them grow up in a broken home.  I cried as Dorian would wail at night because I wasn’t dad tucking him in and I cried to see the truth of a future that Amellia would never remember or know what it would be like to have her mom and her dad live with one another and it ripped new holes in my heart and added to the devastation I was sinking in.  It wasn’t fair.  None of this was fair and so I cried as my head tried to understand what my heart just couldn’t seem to understand as despite how awful the last two years had been and despite how awful he had been treating me and despite how awful this pain felt, my heart still longed for him; still loved him and still missed him. Because while my husband had fallen out of love with me over a span of several years, I never had and I just didn’t know how I was supposed to survive this.

I cried to my friends; I cried to my sisters; I cried to my mom, finally admitting to myself and to my loved ones the true reality of what was going on.  I couldn’t even think about the future as I was barely surviving day to day as the thought of supporting myself and my children, being a single mom, terrified and overwhelmed me.  I doubted my ability to do what seemed to lie ahead and still prayed everyday for a miracle that Josh would wake up and miss me.  Wake up and love me again.  Wake up and come home.  Wake up and be the man I willingly gave my heart to all those years ago. Yet, a day passed; a week passed and before I knew it, we were only a couple weeks away from our move.  Josh and I talked every once in a while to arrange our move to Colorado.  He made it clear he would move to Colorado with us as he always wanted to be near his children, promising to still be an active and involved father as he had always been.  For conveniences sake and to save money, Josh moved back in, sleeping again on the couch for the last two weeks of our stay in Tennessee.  When Josh and I did talk it was about who would get what.  Josh and I closed and separated our finances, took names off of credit cards and cancelled accounts, further separating our lives.  I sill prayed for a miracle, but was finally forced to face reality. 

Movers came and began packing up our life.  We labeled boxes not only with their contents, but also with “His” and “Hers” so that when we got to Colorado and had everything dropped off into storage, it would be an easy process to divvy it up and be done with the items that used to make up our home.  It is always sad to see your things packed up, even when you have a new and exciting adventure in front of you as it is a representation of a closure, but this time the impact was even more profound.  Most everything we were packing was new, a replacement of all the items we had lost in the fire.  Things we had agreed on and bought together as a new beginning and now, just a little over a year later it was being packed up as a very physical and emotional ending. 

Although I hated the idea of having to rely on my parent’s, I was looking forward to moving home and into their house once again as I felt I surely could not do this single mom thing on my own.  I was thankful and relieved to know that no matter what, my parents would be there for me and my children and since Josh didn’t want that job of provider anymore, it was nice to know I still had people who did.  For so long I felt I had been the one holding everything together.  I am the one reaching to meet every persons need, working past the point of exhaustion and depletion just to keep it all together, that I relished the idea of moving in with my parent and being taken care of, even if just a little bit because I was at my breaking point physically, emotionally, and mentally.  I knew with every fiber of my being that this move home was exactly where I was being led and it was exactly what I needed.  I kept asking Josh what living situation he had in place once we reached Colorado but every time I asked, he would always answer that he didn’t have one yet.  Although I tried not to care, it concerned me.  However, this situation was due to his choices, so let the consequences follow.

Moving day arrived.  My car was loaded with two weeks worth of clothing and necessities for me and the children.  I had Amellia behind the passenger seat where I had my bird safely buckled up and Dorian strapped in his car seat behind my seat.  My purse and a generously large bag of snacks were on the passenger side floor and I was ready to go.  I was leaving a home, but I was going home. As a new fearful and smaller family, I mumbled a quick prayer of safety while we travel, asking the Lord to please help me make this 1200 mile road trip survivable with a nursing infant and a rambunctious little boy.  Josh followed in his car, with the cat we had originally bought for Dorian to grow up with, but that plan wasn’t going to come to fruition anymore either.  My parents had a no pet rule and to be honest, I didn’t want the cat as I already had my hands full with my two little babies, so that’s how our family was split.  Me and the kids, and Josh and the cat.

Our drive took almost three days as I had to stop often to breast feed, potty breaks for Dorian as well as a need to stop to get the bugs out of Dorian’s little body.  Needless to say it was a long and exhausting drive with lots of crying, Lots of questions and lots of time to reflect, as if I had not been doing enough self wallowing, thinking and reflecting.  However, there is something about the open road that does shine clarity on a muddled mind and for me it was a simple, sweet reminder of a truth I already knew: I had two beautiful babies who needed a lot and they were entrusted to me for a reason.  I was blessed and no matter what the future held, The three of us would always be together and I would always do my all to give them all they need and deserve, so if ever there was something for me to focus on, it needed to be them.

During our trip home my mom called with a proposition.  She said that she understood why Josh and I had separated, but with the move to Colorado and this transition, the kids would need some sort of stability and she, knowing Dorian’s super hero complex for his father, suggested I offer a place to Josh in their basement.  She said me and the children would be upstairs, putting two floors between Josh and I, but that it would give the children the opportunity to see their dad everyday which she felt they needed.  I was opposed to the idea at first as I have always been one to quickly tear the band-aid off once I knew for certain it needed to come off, but she made a compelling argument and I knew my thought process and point of view were short sided and clouded with all the emotions.  I trusted her judgment and as always, wanted what was best for my children.  I passed the offer onto Josh which he quickly turned down, but after showing him my points of concern for the kids, the money he would be able to save and the logic in it, he agreed.  Mom said that she still had hope.  She really felt that if when we got to Colorado we could find Josh a good counselor to help see if Josh was bi-polar and to verify he had PTSD, we could get him the help he needed which she believed could still turn it all around.  She admitted it would be a lot of work, on him and on us, but encouraged me to hope.  Being as fearful as I was of being a single mom and being unwanted, I chose to hope with her as I wasn’t ready to just stop loving him because simply, I just didn’t know how.  I had always fought for Josh, I didn’t want to ever have any regrets, so I wasn’t going to stop just yet.