At least once a day I try to take off my wedding band. I was shocked when I washed my hands this morning to see it was on my right hand instead of my left. Oh yes, I switched it in the middle of the night when I woke up from another nightmare. I dried my hands and moved it back. Why won’t I just take it off? My outer child wants to proclaim, “Because I worked so hard for it!”, this tiny band of gold. I remember this one day, during our first engagement period, he yelled out of nowhere, “I am NOT buying you a diamond!”. I don’t really think he was talking to me, I think he was arguing with himself and just needed to state it out loud.
Per his own statements and those of his family, he had no plans of ever getting married. So what made me so lucky? I think just that I was so good at being a victim, so willing to keep taking his abuse. That and the fact that most of his past women were alcoholics, drug addicts and very promiscuous. I can say this with some certainty as I was very well acquainted with one of them many years ago and they all pretty much fit the same mold. Not me, I’m just a glutton for abuse. No excuses for me for dealing with his behavior other than my Abandonment PTSD had me looking for love in all the wrong places. I’m a double danger, Daddy AND Mommy issues. Thanks, folks!
I suppose I’ll never know why he decided to marrying me, but my overall feeling is that he thought I was broken enough to never leave. I was a never ending supply for his narcissist tendencies. Always willing to apologize, to do whatever it took to keep him. The funny thing is, he wasn’t leaving. He was comfortable. I wasn’t. I was miserable more often than not.