Escape Velocity – Breaking Free

It was a dark and stormy night…

Well, actually, no, it wasn’t stormy. And it wasn’t dark. Downtown Las Vegas is hardly ever dark, especially at night.

But as I crept out of the apartment as quietly as I could with just a backpack with a few clothes, my favorite book, and $10 in my pocket, hoping to high heaven that the dog wouldn’t wake up and bark, my heart was pounding so hard I could barely think. Every little sound I made seemed like a shotgun blast in the quiet, so much so that I didn’t pull the door fully closed because I was afraid the sound of the latch would wake him up.

And then I ran. And ran and ran, and then walked as fast as I could, afraid he would find I was gone, look for me, find me, bring me back…

The Beginning

We had had a fight, as we often did. At that point in our relationship, we probably had more days where we fought than not. The days in between were just waiting for the next fight to start. That night, I think he rested easily because he felt assured that I would stay, as I had every other time with my struggling to figure out how to get things to where we had good days again.

It didn’t start that way, our relationship. He was charming and funny. He told great stories. I enjoyed that he flirted with me and paid attention to me. The fact that he was eight years older and married didn’t really faze me. I was young, going to UCLA, and excited by my newly found independence.

I liked to think I was quite the rebel, but I really wasn’t. I was still scandalized that my slightly older friend and coworker smoked clove cigarettes (gasp! They’re not good for you!) I didn’t drink. I thought being daring was turning a paper in a day late. I was a major square. So flirting with a married man! Oh my! So thrilling, but also safe because, you know, he was married.

The Pattern Emerges


Turns out, I was an easy mark. At one point, I did try to break up with him after he moved with his wife to San Francisco. But it didn’t stick. He called and kept calling. He even had his wife call me to ask me to talk to him. How he managed that, I still have no idea. He showed up at my door with a kitten. So we got back together. I moved up to San Francisco. I even lived with him and his wife for a little while. Then she got fed up with the whole situation and left him. And then he and I got married, got a dog, had kids, the whole shebang.

Things were mostly decent then. When we had good times, they were fun and awesome. But we had our fights, which at the time I thought was normal. He did what he called “wife training,” which should have been a red flag. But looking back, he did a pretty good job because I ended up doing everything he wanted: kept house, cooked, cleaned, eventually supported us so he could do his martial arts training.

The Slow Boil

You know the story about the frog in the boiling water? That was exactly what happened. The times between fights got shorter and shorter. The good times got to be less good and less often. It didn’t happen overnight. It was such a slow progression that it always seemed normal.

What I didn’t notice was how I was slowly ripping off pieces of myself to prevent fights or keep him happy:
– I gave up dance and acting because he didn’t want me performing for others
– My music choices were “pedestrian” so I stopped choosing music
– The cartoons and anime I enjoyed were “childish” so I stopped watching
– If I drank coffee, I was “trying to be an adult” so I stopped
– Art projects were “too expensive” so I stopped creating

Everything I had any kind of opinion on inevitably led to fights. It became easier to have no input or preference on anything until he complained that I was “no fun anymore.

The Control Tightens

The control extended beyond just my interests. At some point, we had a fight about money and he took over all household finances. If something needed to be paid, he paid it. I never went anywhere without him so I didn’t need access to funds. I didn’t question it. It was my fault. Everything, really, became my fault.

The last number of years of our 30-year relationship were bleak. I often fantasized about walking out into the desert to die. I even started to at one point after he left me home during a fight. He often would storm off, threaten to not come back, only to find out later he had gone to his favorite restaurant or checked himself into a nice hotel, while I stressed about how to fix whatever I had done wrong.

If I ever tried to take a walk or go outside to think, the fight would escalate, sometimes ending with him threatening to take his own life if I ever left. So I stayed.

Until May 15, 2018…

When I left and didn’t go back.

It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I was terrified. The following days were awful. I left behind everything and everyone. I ended up at my mom’s house. That was one of the hardest calls I had ever made in my life. We had mostly stopped talking because of accusations he had made about my parents. My father had passed away April 1 and my mom had sent a few emails about that. I was afraid she would turn me away. “Come home,” was what she thankfully said.

The Reckoning

The next few months weren’t any easier. I had a little bit of transcription work that I could do with the computer my family bought for me. I had to work through years of pent-up feelings with all members of my immediate family – addressing the negative things I had done while I was with him. It was a reckoning. It wasn’t pretty.

I went through a similar process with my adult kids, who were also dealing with the wreckage with their father after I left. I am humbled by their patience with me. I am not proud of the mess I created that they had to deal with. But we got through it and I think we’re all the better for it.

The Revival

The last seven years, I’ve spent unpacking the baggage I collected from my relationship with him. I’m happy to report that I’m doing significantly better now. I’m glad I left. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The following period of figuring myself out and learning who I am has been…interesting, but good.

I didn’t think I would ever have a chance like this when I was with him. I’m brought back from the dead in a way. I think of this new life as a bonus and I like who I am now and where I’m headed.

I’m finally making friends with my emotional closet monsters, making conscious choices about who I want to be, and having a whale of a time doing it.

Awkwardly Onward! Rowr.