Many people don't know this, but I was married once before to a heroin addict. Danny and I met when I was only 19 and he was 25. At the time I did not know that he was addicted to any drugs. My relationship with Danny from the beginning was drama. I was infatuated with him, because the physical and sexual attraction was so strong. We couldn't keep our hands off of each other. After hanging out for a few weeks his sister tried to warn me about him. As we were getting ready in her bathroom for a NYE party, she said to me " I know you guys like each other and are having fun, but my brother isn't a good guy." When I asked her what she meant she straight up told me he used drugs. When we were lying in bed that night after the party, I asked him if there was truth to what she said and of course he denied it. Instead of listening to his own sister I chose to believe him. A few weeks after that his ex-girlfriend began to contact me and harass me over the phone. In a matter of a month, I had to change my phone number three times.
About six weeks after we met, he completely ghosted me. Stopped calling me and wouldn't return my calls. I was so hurt and out of my mind that I got on a train to Boston and showed up at his door. His sister was home, and she knew exactly what was going on. So, we took a cab to his ex-girlfriend's house and sure enough there he was. He told me he didn't want to be with me anymore and that he was back with his ex. It wasn't till years later that it dawned on me that the reason she kept calling and harassing me was because he was talking to her all along. A few weeks after that she must have had enough of his shit, and he kicked him out. Thats when he contacted me and instead of having more respect for myself, I took him back.
Once we were back together it became very clear that his sister wasn't lying about his drug use. I honestly hadn't noticed him high or signs of drug use prior to that. He got a job with a painting company. I hadn't seen him all week, because we lived an hour apart from each other. The plan was after work Friday he would come to see me and spend the weekend. Well, he showed up hours late and he was fucked up. You'd think I would have been all set with him, but no I stayed. About a month later he rented a room from some lady. I stayed there with him. He would go to work, and I hung out all day waiting for him to come home. Initially he was only getting high on the weekends. Then one Friday night I made plans to hang out with his sister and he was going to hang out with his friend. Her and I were supposed to take a bus to NYC, but those plans fell through and instead a few of her guy friends showed up on their motorcycles. I didn't think twice about getting on the back of a bike with another guy. I was 19 and so naive.
We drove to a Wendy's parking lot in the next town over that was filled with other bikes and cars. It reminded me of the Fast and the Furious. I was having the fun I hadn't had in months. The fun that a 19-year-old should have been having with people her own age. After an hour or so we got back on the bikes and drove into Boston. Because we couldn't get into any bars, we settled for a house party in East Boston. When we got there, I checked my phone and I saw that Danny had been blowing it up. When I finally answered his call, he was fuming. He said someone he knew saw me at the Wendy's hanging out with some dudes. What the fuck was I doing on the back of a bike with another man? He demanded I tell him where I was. Initially I refused, but since he didn't stop blowing up my phone I gave in and gave him the address. His sister begged me not to go with him, but I felt like I had to. I got in the passenger seat of the car, and he drove to the end of the street. Next thing I knew he was punching me smashing my head against the window. I tried to fight him off, but he overpowered me. He drove back to his place, because he refused to take me back home. He shot up more heroine and fell asleep. The next day I packed up all my things and had him drive me home. I was standing my ground that I didn't want to be with him. However, the whole drive home he apologized over and over. Told me how much he loved me and that I was the one who hurt him. That my actions drove him to put his hands on me. I was so vulnerable to his charm and charisma. I was so easy manipulated by him. I let him come inside with me and he spent the night. I cried and he held me. Made me feel safe again and just like that everything was forgiven.
This cycle continued on for five more months. I convinced myself that if I left him, he would use so much heroin, because he was heartbroken that he would overdose. I didn't want his death to be my fault. I even convinced myself that as long as he wasn't high, he wouldn't hit me. I just had to get him to stop using. Foolish girl I was. One day the police got involved, because he choked me to the point where I lost consciousness. He was arrested and charged with attempted murder. The charge was brought down to assault and battery. We were told that if we were married, I could exercise spousal privilege. Which meant I didn’t have to testify against him and since there I wasn’t any evidence except my testimony, the charges would be dropped. I didn't want to see him go to jail so we got married.
The next five months there wasn't any physical abuse, I think mostly because he was scared of police involvement. However, his drug abuse was worse than I had ever seen it. He overdosed twice in a 24-hour period. I spent Christmas Eve in the ER with him. I had him committed so we had to wait all day for a bed to open up somewhere. He spent the weekend at a psychiatric hospital and was discharged once he met with a doctor.
In February of 2011 I was deployed to Afghanistan. At the time I did not want to go. I feared that if I wasn't with him, he would overdose. But that didn't matter, because Danny didn't want to get clean. He hadn't hit his rock bottom yet. Looking back at our relationship, I don't think rehab was ever discussed. Deploying to Afghanistan was the best thing that happened to me. I needed that separation from him to take the blinders off my eyes. I grew up so much in that year. I became dependable again. Disciplined with my work. I worked really hard that year to put the pieces of me back together. By the time I was getting ready to come home I was done with our marriage, and I think Danny knew it. The night I arrived in Massachusetts him, my mom, and my sister picked me up. I remember being so disgusted when I saw him, because he was a walking skeleton. The first thing I said was " What happened to you?" We argued in the back seat of my mom's car the whole way home. The argument continued in inside and escalated pretty quickly. That night I fought so hard for my life. He punched and kicked me. Dragged me by my hair off the bed. He broke my phone so I couldn't call anyone and stole my debit card. He left me alone while he went out and bought more drugs to get high.
The next morning, I had to report back to my unit one final time, before we were officially on leave for three months. The marks and bruises were on my body and head. I had a scratch on my temple, but my glasses covered it. Nobody had any idea, and I didn't want to burden anyone with my drama. When I got home that evening, he was high again, but we didn't fight or argue. We got into a huge fight as soon as we both woke up the next morning. Probably, because he wasn't high anymore. He started punching me on the side of my head. I turned to run away, but as I made it out of the bedroom he grabbed me by my hair, knocked me down to the ground, and dragged me back in. He stomped me while I was down on the ground and couldn't get back up. When he had enough, he went into the kitchen to smoke a cigarette. He didn't realize that he left his phone in the bedroom. I texted my sister to come ASAP "He is going to kill me". I got dressed and ran out the door. Just as I made it to the bottom of the stairs my sister pulled up in front of my building. I jumped in her car, locked the door, and had her call 911. Within minutes the police were there. They asked what was going on and I explained that my husband had beat me. As they were talking to me Danny came walking from around the building. He was placed in cuffs and taken away.
That morning was my breaking point. All the times he had gotten high and all the times he beat the shit out of me, and I never left until that moment. I guess I thought that I could fix him. That my love for him would be enough for him to change. This happened on a Saturday morning. On Monday I went to court with my mom. Assault and battery charges were brought up against him. The judge granted a yearlong restraining order as well. The following day the newspaper wrote a story about him beating up a hometown hero. Through that story I learned that when he was given his one free call the police officer on duty heard him say to his mother "I should have killed her". Reading that made me realize that I wasn't wrong when I texted my sister. There was no way I could forgive him and give him another chance. That same week I went to family probate court and filed for divorce. Eventually he was sentenced to 18 months in county jail and during that time period our divorce was finalized.
We promised each other for better or for worse. I could have stuck by his side and helped him. However, we didn't get married to each other because we were madly in love with one another and committed to each other. It was all so that he wouldn't be criminally prosecuted and potentially serve jail time. I since then have forgiven him for what he did to me, however, a boundry had to be placed between us. I wished him well, but I would never be the person to help him get well.
I rarely spoke about the time in my life, because it was too painful and brought me shame. I often wished I could go back in time and change it all. However, after taking the time to really reflect and process that experience, I think God allowed those things to happen to better prepare me for what was to come next with my husband now.
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