Dear Mrs. Bluth,
My problem is a convoluted one that encompasses thirty-nine years of dysfunctional marriage, five children (three of whom are divorced), fifteen grandchildren (eight of whom I do not have contact with anymore because of the divorces) and a husband I no longer want to be with. That being said let me start from the beginning.
I came from a yeshivish family and was a quiet, moody child who had to compete with two older brothers and four younger siblings; I often got lost in the mix. My parents were both teachers so, needless to say, there was not much money and we learned to live with very little. I wore hand-me-downs from neighbor children or a gemach, as did most of my siblings, except for the oldest two boys who got new clothes at the beginning of the year. Inwardly, it made me angry that I had to wear other people’s shmattas which were either too big or too small on me. I also hated the responsibilities thrown on my shoulders because I was the oldest girl. I was forced to take care of the younger ones when my parents had to attend to school events and or do work. There was never any time to spend with parents and when they were home, on Shabbasim and Yomim Tovim, they treated us more like students then their own children, having us prepare divrei Torahs and testing us on the parsha or whatever we were learning. I don’t recall any demonstrative love between my parents or from them to me. When I turned eighteen I saw getting married as an escape route to a better life and, sadly, chose the third young men I went out with because I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Max” was nice during the four months we were engaged and the fact that my parents didn’t like him made me want to marry him even more. My mother was always pointing out his failures and saying I could do better, but I held my ground.
The wedding was a small affair; Max was from out of town and had few friends and family. After, we moved into a small apartment several blocks away from my family and I rejoiced in my freedom. Max had trouble finding work and it was very frustrating for him. His anger soon turned towards me and he would often yell and scream. I tried to not focus on this side of him thinking things would get better when he found work, but it only got worse as time passed.
Five months after the wedding, I found out I was pregnant, but decided not to tell anyone because I was afraid of losing my job. When I started feeling unwell, I finally told Max. I hoped he would be happy and feel more of an incentive to find work.
Unfortunately, the exact opposite happened. He flew into a rage and yelled that without my paycheck we would not be able to cover expenses and then he shoved me against the wall. I was stunned, to say the least, but I also finally understood what my situation was and that I had no one to blame but myself.
I worked until the week before our son was born and went back to work four weeks after. A kind older woman in my building agreed to care for the baby for a small sum; my parents never offered any help, nor did I ask, and the pushing and shoving matches turned into punches and beatings. This is the environment in which I birthed and raised five children. As you can imagine, when our three sons got married, they continued the cycle of abuse, as did our two daughters who married men like their fathers.
Our three sons are divorced, but our daughters have chosen to stay in their abusive marriages for the sake of their children. All of my children blame me for setting them up for failure by not divorcing their father and I have distant relationships with them.
However vile my husband was in his youth, he is that much worse now that he doesn’t have the kids to push around and I am once again the sole beneficiary of his abusive rages. I have decided to do what I should have done thirty-nine years ago. I just needed to hear an unbiased opinion.
Dear Friend,
Hindsight is 20/20, and often clear-vision comes too late to recoup a lifetime, but never too late to get a life. It does little good to lament the past, both for yourself and for your children as the damage has already been done. However, you do have the opportunity to show your daughters that it is never too late to do the right thing. By this I mean that you definitely should pursue a divorce from your abusive husband and seek psychological counseling to build your self-esteem and self-confidence. Your sterile upbringing made you a perfect candidate for bad choices; there is no blame here only misfortune and bitterness.
Now, lets focus on what you can do. You can value yourself enough to extricate yourself from this abusive union. You can get the help you need to find yourself and to appreciate the person you are – one deserving of respect, love and appreciation. You can find the simple goodness in each day and learn to enjoy being safe, secure and alive. You can show your children that living the way you have been is not the right way, but can be changed. And finally, you can obtain a quality of life, even after thirty-nine years of suffering.
You sound like a strong woman, in spite of what you’ve gone through. I know you will succeed and that tough little girl who so desperately wanted her freedom will finally find her way to a safe and satisfying life.
