One of John's kids was having severe problems at school, so John decided I would homeschool him and his brother. Again, WTF. That was easy for “Mr. two jobs and never home” to say. I had to watch my son and my dog every second. There were no boundaries. I didn’t know how to manage kids. I was afraid they would hurt the dog or the baby. They were very physical and I was inexperienced and didn’t know what to do. I was completely stressed out and tired all the time. I resented John and we started fighting constantly. I wanted out. I felt like I was raising three children alone. Sometimes when John would get home at night, he would want sex, and I would just lay there while tears streamed down my face. Who was this stranger?
One day I was feeding Mark when I heard John's van pulling up the road. My heart started pounding and I was so hot it was unnatural. He walked in the house just as my nose started bleeding. I was so scared. What the hell was happening? Both my arms twisted and I had no control over them. I thought I was having a stroke. I screamed at John to throw water on me. He called an ambulance, and by the time they got there I had feeling in my arms again but I was still hyperventilating. They thoroughly checked me out and said I had a severe panic attack. They asked me if I was under any stress. I thought, “Are you fucking kidding me?” My life was one big stress ball! I wondered if this was postpartum depression. I thought I was losing my mind. I needed to be where my family could help me with Mark. My anxiety was worse than ever in my life. I just needed some fun in my life.
After that, John and I were polite to each other, and I made his meat and potato meal every night. All I remember was John eating and leaving for work. I had to make a separate meal for the kids or we would have been broke feeding everyone steak every night. Mark ate baby food and I ate avocados. Then the major fight happened. I cannot remember what started it, but I verbally attacked John. I threw his steak and potatoes on the kitchen floor and said I was done. I stomped on his meal. He grabbed me and stuffed the raw steak in my mouth, choking me. I told him I was going to call the police and he laughed. He pinned me against the refrigerator and I pushed him away. I was shocked when he called the police on me. I was ordered to leave because I admitted to pushing John when he pinned me against the fridge. The police saw the food on the floor and I admitted to throwing it there. I forgot to mention he forced food in my mouth. I called Micky and asked if Mark and I could stay with her and Sal for the night. I was getting ready to leave when John said I couldn’t take the car or Mark. John had never watched Mark. I told him I would go to jail before I would leave without my son. The police talked John into giving me my car keys and letting me take Mark. That was the beginning of the end.
From then on, all we did was fight. After a huge fight, I told John I was leaving. He said, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” and he stormed out. I immediately called a moving company and arranged for them to pack my stuff first thing in the morning. They would bring it to the boat that would bring it to the mainland and then to Connecticut. Everything was mine that I brought from Vegas, and I had nice stuff. We took it out of storage when we bought the new house. I left John the bedroom set, the recliner, and any of the stuff that was his before we met, and of course I left all his children's things. I went to the bank and took out enough money to get me started in Connecticut. I did not take more than what was fair. I took my stash, which wasn’t really much, and got a ride to the airport. I paid for one of the neighbors to watch John's kids until he got home. I had Mark strapped on my chest and Gizmo in his little crate and felt I’d made a good decision. I looked back at the almost empty house and, as I left, I was careful not to let the door hit me on the way out.