I was working two jobs, and stuck in the uncomfortable situation of leaving him at home to take care of the kids, who were both under the age of two. I can not even tell you how many times I came home to the kids in dirty, crappy diapers. When I asked about it, he said he had changed them and that they had just dirtied them, but I could tell by looking at the diapers that he was lying. Most days when I came home, the house was twice as messy as when I’d left, the kids were whining, and he was playing Playstation. But I didn’t see any other option, since he obviously couldn’t get a job.
While we lived there, he’d made a few friends around the apartment complex that were less than stellar. One night, he’d been drinking and he kept threatening me. I didn’t want to call the cops, because if he went to jail, I’d have nobody to watch the kids while I was at work and we’d get evicted again. He got pissed off at me and went outside. I locked the doors so that he didn’t come in all pissed off and try to do something to me. I stayed up for a few hours, but then got tired and decided to go to bed. I unlocked the doors so that he could get in when he got back. When I woke up the next morning, he still wasn’t back. I called in to work, and started calling police stations. Midway through my calling spree, one of the neighbors called. She lived in a building across the complex, and said that she found him passed out in the hallway in a pile of his own vomit, and was bringing him to the hospital. We didn’t have a car at the time, so I said okay. He ended up needing his stomach pumped, and he was in the hospital for three days.
Incidents like this were re-occuring throughout our relationship. And every time, he would try to kill himself afterwards, to make me feel bad for him. One of the last times I remember it happening, he locked himself in the bathroom, and the shower was running. I didn’t think much of it, until about an hour had passed. After I knocked and he didn’t respond, I picked the lock on the bathroom door and walked in. He was laying in the bathtub, with the shower running, with a plastic bag over his head, and a bottle of vodka next to the tub. I was so sick of this cycle happening over and over again, that I grabbed the bottle of vodka, knocked him in the head with it, ripped the plastic bag open, turned the hot water to cold, and walked out of the bathroom. Later, I was talking to his ex, and told her about it, and she said ‘Oh, he’s doing that to you now? Glad I don’t have to deal with it anymore. I was sick of saving him.’
It was at that point that I realized I didn’t want to be with him anymore. I knew though, that I couldn’t work without someone to watch the kids, and he couldn’t live on his own, because he didn’t have a job. So we came to an agreement that we would be separated, but still live together to take care of the kids. All I cared about is the ability to work so that I could keep a roof over the kids’ head. My two minimum wage jobs were barely covering it, and I couldn’t afford to miss a day of work, or we could be screwed. We had already gotten so far behind once, that we were on a payment agreement with the apartment complex, and if we were a day late on any of the payments, they had the ability to have a sheriff escort us out that day.
One night, I was at home. It was late at night, and he’d been at the bar with a few friends. I called him, and whatever he tried to say to me came out as gibberish. Shortly after that, he came stumbling in the door. He started yelling at me, accusing me of going over to the neighbors house and sleeping with him. I kept trying to tell him that there’s no way I could have, because that would have required leaving the kids home alone. But he wasn’t coherent, and wasn’t processing what I was saying. Before I knew it, he had lifted me out of my chair and had me doing a backbend over the top of the couch. He had me pinned there, and was screaming at me, and he spit in my face. I managed to gain the strength to get out of that position, and as soon as I stood up, he head-butted me, and blood started pouring from my nose. I cupped my hand under my face and ran to the bathroom and locked the door. He was still yelling at me, and I told him he needed to leave. ‘What are you going to do? Call the cops?’ he yelled through the door. The cops… I could call the cops…