My husband accused me of cheating, beat the shit out of me and ran off to another country within two days.
Yeah, eventful two days. Yay me.
I got married at 19, it hasn’t all been bad but here lately it hasn’t been good. I’ve kicked the uterus and the substance abuse and am almost done with school and his blaring paranoia has gotten worse and worse.
It came to a head yesterday when I got back from a 10-minute food da bao run and he started interrogating me saying he had proof that I had slept with this man to get some money. It went on for hours, culminating in him slapping me. I punched him back. I shouldn’t have but no one’s slapping me around.
I should have kicked him out then but he didn’t have anywhere to go and we’ve been married fifteen years.
Today, it got worse. He called me a whore, so I threw a pill bottle that bounced off his head. I got a split lip and my jaw kills.
I called my parents this time and listened to him lie off about how I threw the first punch!
They believed him since I scratched his face up to get him off me when he was choking me out at the end. It’s over. He ran off to another country with my credit card. Too bad the housing loan was in his name since of course ‘men are more responsible’.
The nice lawyers assured me I should get some money for it in the divorce. Sure, that’ll get me to work tomorrow. Sunk cost fallacy is a killer.