My story

WHY I BECAME A DIVORCE COACH

The Early Years

I grew up in the 1950s. A time when parental abuse was ignored, and alcoholism was not yet a “disease.” We lived in the country without a phone, friends, or support of any kind. My mother had five children in 5 years, a house without central heat, and a well that went dry every summer.

I was the second child and first-born daughter. My job was to take care of everyone. I was 12 years old.

It turns out our father was both a pedophile and an alcoholic. When my parents divorced, my mother had one more child – a girl. Our father married twice more, and our mother married six more times.

A Marriage Gone Wrong

I married at eighteen. I knew I had made a mistake on our honeymoon! And the abuse had not even started. I did not know how to fix it, and I did not want all the people who gave us gifts to be mad.

In retrospect, it is easy to look back and see where things went sour in my relationship. It began with a tiny incident; my husband made me get rid of all the pictures of my high school friends and my yearbook. That indicated, “I belonged to him now and should only need him.”

Emotional Abuse

The next thing he did was discourage visits from my sisters. Remember, I was ‘Mother Marv’ to my sisters; I had raised them. They were important in my life and vice versa. I told my husband all my secrets, and he used every one of them against me during our 18 years of marriage. I wanted to reconnect with my mother, but he discouraged it. I missed my grandfather’s 80th birthday party; why? Because he didn’t want to go and didn’t want me to drive. There are too many instances to write about, but I want you to understand how he took control of my life and how the little things keep multiplying.

Sexual Abuse

The sexual abuse started after our first daughter was born and continued until I finally left him. Four years before our divorce, I saw a case on tv that made me realize that spousal rape was a crime.

My ex was a policeman. At the time of our divorce, he had been in the police department for about ten years, had three known affairs, and brought home hard-core porn magazines. I am sure he got some of his ideas from those magazines.

I Believed

I thought I could believe him; I couldn’t. He told me he could get one lawyer to serve both of us; my mistake. I wanted to be free. He told me he could not afford to buy out my half of the house; my mistake. I wanted to be safe. He said he could only pay $$$ for both girls; my mistake. I believed him.

Justice for all?

So I could be free, safe, and done with him, I signed a quit-claim deed (relinquishing my interest in our home.) He immediately sold the house. I sold my bakery equipment and got a job. I did not bother to go to court. The judge that signed my divorce decree would be his sister-in-law a month later.

When I finally got the courage to get my own lawyer, he told me it was probably unethical for the judge to oversee our divorce. It was not easy to throw a ‘spitball’ at a judge. It would probably cost me $10,000 if I proceeded to obtain my own lawyer. I said let’s do it. Each of us could get the money, but my soon-to-be ex declined. Screwed again.

At the end of my marriage,  I felt broken, hollow, and done.

The Present Day

They say that what does not kill you only makes you stronger. I am strong, resilient, happy, free of abuse, able to love my children and grandbabies, and happily married for 30 years to a man I love and cherish.

I KNOW I am lucky to be alive. I believe my ex didn’t harm me because he loved the prestige of his job as a policeman more. I know that I protected him. I know I allowed it to continue much longer than it needed to. I remember trying three times to leave him. I called an abuse hotline and then chickened out. I went to my sister’s, and he came and got me. I told him I was “done.” Yet, I didn’t believe I could care for my daughters without him. Once I realized that I could, I did. With this belief came strength. I rented an apartment and returned to work. Finally, I was safe.