We lived apart for two months in 1994. It was no honeymoon period, that’s for sure. I believe Will abused during this period to confuse me, keep me on my toes. If our relationship was in turmoil, I wouldn’t have time to think about myself. I couldn’t detach emotionally from him. If I’d done that, I may have realized I didn’t want to go home.
The picture of the boxers making up after mangling each other to pieces reminds me of the verbal altercations between Will and me.
August 6, 1994
Marc is almost 11 months old. He’s still a titty-baby and trying to walk. I am living at Dad’s house. [Military housing couldn't accommodate us.]
Will came up to see us this weekend. This is hard – being apart and all. I need to quit picking on him and try to be nice. That would be a lot easier if he would do the same. [We fought all the time. Time apart didn't help the fighting.]
I love him though. He has a good heart and good intentions – he’s just a little coarse, that’s all. [I wish I'd known that his intentions were not good, that he didn't love me, and that he thought controlling me was his best course of action. I wish I didn't make excuses for his behavior.]
I hope he doesn’t turn out mean and bitter. I’ll keep him optimistic, I guess! [No, no no! I was so wrong - I couldn't change him! Trying to change someone else is a waste of time.]
I dyed a shirt from Goodwill and an old pair of jeans green for kicks, and now I have two brand new things for my closet. Gotta copy some recipes – later.
Read My Abusive Marriage…and what i’m doing in it…you’ll think I married your husband.