And it was a beautiful wedding.
In a rose garden. With my family and friends.
I had the dress of my dreams and felt like a princess that day.
Then we headed off to the honeymoon. To Barbados.
I swear from the moment he put that ring on my finger, I started gaining weight. I'd never been in danger of being "skinny" but I was average. Slowly I started gaining and my clothes felt different.
I was still comfortable when we got married, but I noticed that things were starting to change.
Weight was a big deal to Rob. His ex-girlfriend gained a lot of weight while they were together and he always talked about it to me. How he hated it and she would tell him, "Just accept it. I'm fat!" He hated that she had accepted it. In fact, it enraged him.
Andy told Rob once (and he, of course told me) to remind me what happened between Rob and his ex...how they broke up because she had gained so much weight. Maybe that would keep me from "blowing up" Andy had said.
So....I like to psycho analyze myself then and I think that I gained weight for a few reasons...
*I was extremely unhappy. I ate to comfort myself and probably held onto that weight because I had so much inner turmoil.
*Maybe I gained to protect myself. If I wasn't attractive, he wouldn't want to shop me around to strangers.
*I hated myself and the things I was allowing to happen in my life.
I look at pictures of myself back then and I am amazed. And so sad.
Not only was I heavy, but my face was so swollen and the bags under my eyes were so dark. One look at me and even a complete stranger could tell that I was miserable.
It's no secret to those who know me or read my other blog that I am struggling with my weight right now. And have for a few years. BUT weight gain from pregnancy is a far cry different from weight gain as a healthy, active 20-something.
It was on our honeymoon that Rob and I talked about the fact that I wasn't enough for him. I said something to that effect and he said, "Yep. That's right."
It was right as our waitress came to take our order and I couldn't talk because I was trying not to cry. It had always been an undercurrent, but he'd never come out and said it.
And there it was.
When he saw my eyes fill up, he quickly said, "Oh my gosh. No! I didn't realize what you said!"
I don't believe that. There was no way to misunderstand what I said.
So at least I knew exactly where I stood. And here we were married now.
The rest of our honeymoon we fought and bickered. About everything.
It wasn't my dream vacation. Which was apparent to my family because I called home several times. I was homesick.
We got back and tried to settle into a routine. And we did. We just continued to ignore the glaring issues in the marriage and pretend to be the happy newlyweds. No one knew what was going on from the outside.
Then the decision was made to move to where Rob was from originally. I was terrified. I was leaving a place I had made friends and had become comfortable for some place (a big city) where I knew no one.
I was able to transfer with my job in retail and he took a job with another retail corporate office.
We set up in corporate housing again, ready to start house hunting.
We also continued to fight.
We were trying to sell our old house and had been traveling back and forth on weekends to clean and fix it up to put it on the market. Rob planned to go back one weekend without me and I expressed my displeasure at that idea. He, of course, was indignant. He was angry that I didn't trust him (really?). He was going anyway whether I liked it or not.
On my way home from work the day he was supposed to leave, someone pulled out in front of me and totaled my car. I wasn't injured thankfully, but my car was dead on arrival. The whole front was smashed in and it was leaking like Niagara Falls.
It was quite a scene at a busy intersection. We lived in the north part of the city at the time and I worked in the south, so I was quite a ways from home where it happened. A guy who managed a gas station close by let me use the phone to call Rob. I told him what happened and asked him to come and get me.
Do you know that he was mad?
He told me later that he thought I had done that on purpose to keep him from going home that weekend.
What an ass.
I don't even remember him asking if I was okay. He was annoyed.
He did reluctantly come and get me.
And he also went out of town as planned.
I'm sure he had plans to hook up with someone and didn't want to break them.
We had quite the heated discussion...and he told me that he would let me stay as long as I needed to until I found a plce to live.
Naturally, I bawled and begged to work it out.
Again...how sad that I had such little self respect.
We sort of did. Work things out. I think we just came to expect those hills and valleys in our marriage. We'd just kind of sweep it under the carpet. It was our normal.
Finally, we found a house. We settled into a routine.
I was store manager of a women's boutique. He was still at the corporate office of a national retailer.
His job was very stressful. And he managed to find another group of people who loved to go out. All the time. After work.
His office parties were always employee only (or so he told me) so I was never invited to any of them. It wasn't until several months (a year?) in that I met anyone he worked with in a social setting.
I remember one party he went to he told me he'd be home by a certain time and, of course, didn't make it home by then. He also was not answering his cell phone.
When he finally did pull in the driveway, I watched him park all crooked in the drive, struggle to carry all his stuff and shut the door at the same time, and stumble in the house.
He came in, reeking of alcohol, and passed out on the couch.
I stood over him and yelled for him to wake up.
Nothing.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him up and down several times.
Nothing.
I hated him at that moment. More than ever.
This had become our life.
He would leave for work early and stay really late.
He'd already admitted it was because he didn't want to come home. To me.
He hated that I didn't trust him. He hated that I questioned him.
I stood there that night, looking at him, and literally had to hold myself back--with everything in me--to keep from smothering him with a pillow that was on the couch. Honestly.
I very clearly remember looking at the pillow. Then looking at him. Then looking at the pillow. Then looking at him.
I think I slapped his cheek to wake him up and told him that if he was so unhappy, he could march his ass down to the courthouse and file for divorce.
He proceeded to pass out again.
So I called his mom. It was late, but I was at my wit's end.
I drove over to her house and we sat up and talked.
I admitted to her that we were having problems and had been for some time. I also told her that he had an obsession with wanting to bring someone else into the relationship.
Yep. I did.
She's a psychologist. She's heard it all.
I was desperate for her to understand me and hear me. I couldn't tell anyone else this.
She was surprised, but not shocked.
She told me she was so sad that we were having troubles.
Finally, I went home. Rob was still passed out.
I did tell him the next day about going to his mom's. I didn't tell him what I had shared with her specifically.
Maybe a big part of me told his mom because he was always the apple of his mom's eye. Everybody liked Rob. He was funny, personable. When we were together, we were the life of the party. We laughed. We looked the part. We played the game. I just wanted someone to know what it was really like inside our 4 walls.
I also think that because I had never been on my own, I didn't think I could be. I was scared to be alone and on my own.
And after a while, that dysfunctional relationship--as totally screwed up as it is--is actually less scary than the unknown of striking out on your own and starting a new life.
I stood on that ledge for so long.
Too long.
And instead of getting out and and working on fixing myself and becoming whole again, I did what I had come to know...I looked to other people to make me feel whole.
I started flirting with the payroll guy at work.
Over the phone.
We exchanged pictures and used to email back and forth.
He was clear on the other coast. But it didn't matter. We'd find reasons to call each other.
And then, I actually planned a trip to the corporate office (where he worked) with every intention of meeting and hooking up with him.
I even told him as much.
The plan was for him to pick me up at the airport.
Luckily for me. I got fired TWO DAYS BEFORE I was supposed to fly out.
I'd already purchased the ticket and booked the hotel and everything.
I believe God truly does work in mysterious ways.
I did something so stupid and any other time I believe that I would have received a slap on the wrist. But for my own safety, I believe that God worked it out that I was removed from my job. If only to save me. From myself.
And it did.
I obviously canceled my trip.
And I found out payroll guy called the store looking for me and asked if he was still supposed to pick me up at the airport.
He could have been who knows...a serial killer. Or a rapist.
And I was so starved for attention and so ready to spite Rob that I was willing to go to such great lengths.
I'm still embarrassed about that. But so thankful that I was saved from myself. I was living the very efinition of insanity: doing the same thing and expecting a different result. When would I learn that seeking that attention from someon else was trouble?
All the sudden I was unemployed and looking for a new job.
Enter one of the most pivotal and life-changing jobs in my life.
