My husband has been dealing with OCD since he was 10 years old (now 29), he's on a cocktail of meds for it, and he's gone to the same therapist for years. Enter me: I have diagnosed clinical depression and anxiety. Here's my story...
We were married for only 3 weeks before he left me. We had a nice home, but he obsessed about the way the blinds hung from the corner window, the neighbors, the temperature the AC was set to. He didn't like the fact that I liked to sleep on our throw pillows. He had a particular way he wanted the items in the bathroom cabinet lined up.
Ok, fine, one can chalk that up to simple Type A personality. I didn't mind it, I was still at the point that it was endearing. I am a total Type B. My blinds can be screwy and I don't care, and of course I am going to lay on the throw pillows! They're PILLOWS!
We'd laugh about his obsessiveness as a way of taking the edge off. We talked about it, worked through it. When he'd have an intrusive thought about a police officer (hated cops, thought they were out to get him) I'd be blunt with him: "It's the OCD- Tell the damn OCD to get lost"
For 3 weeks he was able to do just that- make his OCD take a hike. We dated for a year off and on before we got married. Each "off" was initiated by J, not because we were fighting, not because we weren't into each other, but because of his anxieties. I always forgave him for it and took him back. I loved him. I accepted him. I looked past his faults and he looked past mine.
The night we got back from our honeymoon (Bahamas cruise) J went out to the grocery store to get some Coke and came back 2 hours later - with his father - saying he wanted a divorce. We had been married for a week. I was sitting in my pajamas in our brand new apartment, looking through our honeymoon pictures. I was flabergasted, and needless to say, I became very emotional. The most frustrating thing to me was that my father in law had to be there. J asked him to come. Why? He feared I might raise my voice (which I did... who wouldn't?) so loud the neighbors would call the police. After a half hour of crying and dignity-crushing desperation I was able to talk to J with his father out of earshot. That's when he admitted that he jumped the gun with the divorce talk but still wanted a trial seperation. I learned the reason for this. An ex boyfriend of mine had emailed me and when I came home from our honeymoon and checked my email I showed it to J. Even though I showed him so he could trust me, he had a panic attack about it.
So we spent the night apart. The next morning I was over at my father in law's. Again, J did not want to talk to me without his father standing there. I was feeling so worn out and angry. Amazingly, later in the afternoon, J and I were running errands by ourselves. He was a different man. He FINALLY showed some emotion. He was incredibly remorseful for being so impulsive and hurting me in the process. He also admitted that he's afraid to stand up to his father, and when his father wants control of something, it's his.
We reconciled. We talked about what happened and promised each other never to run away from a conflict. We were both beginning new jobs the next week. Until then we spent our free time just with each other, trying to get over the hurt of that one evening.
My job began 5 days before his. When I was at work he did what he could to stay busy. With his depression he can easily fall into a slump and not leave our bed the whole day. Once that week I came home from work and found him in the same place I left him, unshaven, crying "I am not worthy of you. I cannot support you." I tried my best to help him in this state, to give him love and support.
The last night we spent together he went to bed talking about his fears about life and money. I became emotional and suddenly nervous that he was thinking about leaving me again. I asked him, "Are you going to leave again?" and he snapped, "No!" I should have payed more attention to the signs. Earlier that night he also went out for a Coke and came back over an hour later. I had called him in tears and he assured me he wasn't running away, just running errands. When he did come home he was distant. Another sign was he had taken his meds out of the cabinet and lined them up on the bathroom counter. Maybe as a reminder not to forget them in the morning.
The next afternoon I came home from work and J had emptied out the apartment. Everything that was his was gone. His closet: empty. The bed: stripped. He didn't even leave me a blanket to sleep on. The fridge: empty of his Cokes. The computers gone. All my important papers, birth certificate, drivers license dupes, bills, etc. had been dumped out of his briefcase and onto my dresser. J had more stuff than me so the apartment really looked bare.
J called me and said in a chipper voice: "Hey! I am spending the night at my dad's house! I'll talk to you when I feel ready."
I tried to remain calm. I said, "You removed yourself from my life! What do you mean you're only staying one night? Everything of yours is gone!"
That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. I drove to the courthouse and picked up divorce papers. Leaving me 2 times in 3 weeks of marriage... I can't live my life like that. It was progressing. If the first time he emptied the apartment but the second it was just a bag of overnight clothes, ok then I could be more forgiving of that. But if I were to take him back... what's the next step when he's in panic attack mode?
He denied it was a panic attack. I am sure he doesn't deny it now.
I spent a very long, lonely 2 days by myself, talking to every person I had programmed in my phone. I prayed, wrote, cried, felt sorry for myself, you name it. By the end of the 2 days I was determined to make my marriage work. After all, we hadn't even made it to our first counseling session yet!
When I called my husband, I found out something disturbing that frustrates me to no end: He had shut himself off from me. I no longer could deal with him, I had to deal with my father in law. G had stepped into the picture (again) and said, "That's it - this marriage has to end once and for all. It was all a big mistake. So let's now put the past behind us and try to work through the financial mess we have here." (and, yes, there is a huge financial mess. We spent quite a bit of money we didn't have. Most of it is in my name because I had better credit.)
My parents drove up four hours to help me pick up the pieces and move back home to South Florida, where I would essentially try to take those pieces and make my life whole again. They also stepped into the situation and agreed with my father in law that this marriage has to end.
I was forced into filing for divorce. My husband probably was forced as well, due to his fear of standing up to his father, and the fact that he accepted the repercussions of how badly he had hurt me. The hardest thing for me to accept has been his complete lack of emotion. The last time I saw him was outside the courthouse. I asked him why he left me and he made up excuses like I didn't go to the psychiatrist as soon as he wanted me to go (had an appointment for October) and that I had grabbed his laptop screen the wrong way one time (weeks before) and it bothered him. Those were his justifications for walking out on his wife. Then I asked him a question I now wish I hadn't asked him, because the answer has haunted me ever since. I asked him, "Do you even love me?" And he said, "Not anymore. I only love you as a sister in Christ."
We had been happy. We had wonderful times. Yes, we were stressed. We had just moved, gotten married, and started new careers- of course we'll experience stress! The bottom line is he couldn't handle it. He wanted to. He hoped to. I hoped he could. I believed love could conquer all. I did not think I could change him- I just wanted to help him and to share my life with him. Even during all the anger and pain I've experienced because of this, I've only thought of him with love. I don't define him by his OCD, although I now understand how serious it is.
Part of me trying to get over my devestation is researching OCD. I am even learning about the different medications he's on. The more I am learning about this disorder the easier it is for me to accept what has happened. The easier it is for me to remind myself that it doesn't have to do with me. Unfortunately, I have to keep reminding myself every day. It's mentally exhausting.
Everyone is like, "You were only married for 3 weeks- get over it!" That's much easier said than done. I have no doubt I will move on. I believe it's even more tragic that we were only married 3 weeks because it feels like we didn't even give it a chance. On the flip side, we don't have kids, which automatically makes it a much more positive situation.
So that's my story!
I'd appreciate any insight that you want to throw my way.
