Rage turned inward

Something clicked tonight.
I lived with a man, married and took care of a man, broughtr him to this country, paid for everything, sponsored him, paid exorbitant medical bills for illnesses no one knew he had, paid his credit card and cell phone that he used ran up and over to call other women. Sat home as he took 'vacations' to see women in other states within the first 2 years of our marriage, was humiliated as women sent him gifts of pajamas, cameras, pics and love notes. Women who called him while he was out with me, at home with me, me cooking in the kitchen for him to eat,while I was out working to support us, while I tried to sleep in a room with the TV on silent and flickering all nnight, with the computer keyboard tapping away all night, while he sat with only his bikini pants on, his bare chest pointed at his webcam so she could see him all night or the women in the rooms who posed naked and did whatever people asked them to do, I lived with this man. When I asked this man to stop having a relationship with other women, he said no one tells him what to do, not even his father. When she kept calling even though she knew what she was doing to me, he told her not to worry I was a good girl...he would take care of everything. I refused to speak to him. I called her his whore and he smashed me across the face. In the kitchen as I was cooking our dinner, first one side that landed on my ear and again.
That was the second time he hit me. But when it happened I understood I meant nothing, I was nothing, this invisble woman had taken over my husband's brain, life. The third and last time was when I hit came months later after I had already been going thru a silent and deadly withdrawal, making decisions and silently preparing to break. I removed everything, slowly, day by day in garbage bags, one drawer at a time. I found my letters in his suitcase, stuffed, letters from my children and old college friends, as if he wa collecting some kind of evidence only he could understand...letters from kids and family about thier father, the divorce, things he knew nothing about. It was in this time he was taking calls all hours of the day and night, never letting the cell out of his sight or hand. Going into the bathroom to speak as if he had to shit all the time. Always mumbling and turning up the Tv when I was cooking, like I couldnt tell why the volume suddenly went up. I went into the bedroom and told him he didnt have to turn up the volume to speak to his whore, I knew who he was talking to, just talk it doesnt mean anyting anymmore. Right in his face, up front, direct, just the way he couldnt do it. He punched me so hard I lost my hearing for almost 2 days and smashed my glasses. I lunged at him screaming if he ever hit me again I would kill him, I told him to never touch me ever again. EVer.
I called domestic violence services and some crappy counseling came out of that, no emergency housing, its basically a program for poor minorities with kids. White working women stupid enough to get hit, seem to deserve it. There was no where to go. The judge who first heard my request for an order of protection was black from the islands, she gave me the order and said he could stay in the apartment. For 2 weeks he was on the phone telling anyone who would listen how I was messing up his life with an OP.
I spoke to J at work. J made an offer to get rid of him. J said in this situation a broken leg would only be problematic long term. This was a situation that needed to be cleaned up in one go and dumped. Told me to think about it and to understand it was not something that would be easy, but it would get rid of the problem, permanently. I rememebered when in CH a similar offer was made because husband wasn't working was doing nothing and R said a work over by the community guys with a message to get his ass out and take care of his family, nmight straighten him out. I was appalled then, thinking how do frum even think like this. 20 years later, someone cared enough to put his life on the line for me to get rid of someone who kit and abused me and the trust I had in him. And again I refused it.
I got the impotent OP a second time and he had to leave. Outside the courtroom my lawyer shook his hand, patted him on the back telling him to be a nice guy and stay out of trouble, it would be the best thing for his future.
I went home to an empty apartment that was already packedmostly and threw everything away that had accumulated, things he brought in from someone else discards, curb trash of chairs, tables...anything rather than work and buy something for our life together. I got garbage.
I spent months clutching the pepper spray J gave me for protection. I keep seeing his black volkswagon even when its a subarau, i hear a whistle and hav to hold myself from looking around to see if its him calling me. I look for him still, sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of disbelief we are apart. But I realized tonight that I had an opportunity to exact justice, revenge for a second time for being abused and refused that protection. My verbal excuse for refusing was that in front of G-d, it was a hilul hashem. But there's a part of my inside aware that I refused because I felt unworthy that anyone should go do something so clear, so loving, solely to protect me, that I refused to have it done.
He is not far from where I live. His mail came once in a bill he left for me to pay. I looked at the label and he's walking distance. No matter where I go in a place where I know people for 20 years, he can be lurking anywhere, I could be followed anytime and if anything happened I dont have his address. He kept his cell number, he just doesnt answer when i ring to see if he still has it.
What I realized is that instead of killing him literally, I tried killing myself--i stopped eating and lost 40 lbs in 3 months. THat's when the gastritis started, from starving and my insides eating themselves up listening to him talk to some bitch because my hair fell into a dish of food, or I hadn't fixed plates of fried fish, develilled eggs or mombari *stuffed sheeps intestines) for him to gorge on while talking to his schiav online while I worked or when he got hungry at 2am. I am sick now because I didnt have him killed. All the impotence, the rage at being punched around, the insult of listening to a man you call your husband take calls from bitches as if its his right to do so in his home, that his wife has to pay for becuase she his sponsor...thats how he counted it. I put up with it and then when the chnace came to fix it, I didnt fix it, I left it to the impotent court system to leave him go on with his life....and I will look over my shoudler as long as I stay in this apt or at my job. This is why I'm sick physically sickm filkled wikth fear paranoia and rage. This is why I stopped talking to anyone and stay mostly silent, Its not simply a lack of things to say the gavonnes around here, I'm always on hyper alert now, jumping at any noise, feeling other worldly and outside myself, detached, sometimes numb and other times like i ahve no skin on my bones I feel so nakedly raw with emotion. I stopped talking but its clear there nothing left to say on any subject. The only subject I seem to be involved with internally is hearing the next cue, the next stop sign of where to go when to do it.
I never thought of myself so devout that after being beaten for calling a woman breaking my marriage a whore that I would feel ashamed to accept another man would stand up for me and break my husband's head open. I'm repeatin myself but I need to write this clearly. I wanted him to die to feel how he made me sufer. I was given that chance without questions, with a pricetag, free of charge. And that the court refused to acknowledge the adultry, was not allowed to see the pictures of him with her, the cards addressed to beloved husband, the cell bills and jewejlkry reeipts, I was fucked not only by him, I fucked myself and the court fucked me good too by telling him only' bye, have a nice life.'
Do you understand what I'm writing...there is no responsbility, there is no retribution, there is no revenge, there is a woman like many who got played and I was suposed to understand my job wajust hims do at home, while he played because he wanted a wife he could rely on to carry his home an take care of his son, while he played. I hope the irony of it makes you as I cry.
I am sick, physcally imploding with grief at finding myself alone again, separated from a spouse I trusted my life and thoughts with only to find them sharedwith internet whores for discussions I was never a par of, it was
sharing and opening up his marraige to another 'wife' that I was supposed to gradually understand was his righ to take because I couldnt have more children.
His son was diagnosed with gran mal epilepsy in 2005. I can just imagine what idiot made the finding and what kind of garbage pills he getting from the mosque instead of the pharmacy. He blamed his god for giving him a son with epilesy and a wife 'no one wants' A man who never prayed was crying in a prayer to god why he was being punished with marriage to me and crippled son. I had more clearly when the offer came to finish him, it would have served the future of this child well. He would remain in his country with family and either sell fruit or junk on the street, find a young wife and live his simple life in peace. I did all of us a big disservice by not accepting, because I turned all this rage,impotence and injustice in on myself and this is whats eating my insides out.
What is wrong with women...or our we so civilized now that these things are done to us but we return this filthy abuse and behaivour with a gentle pat on the head?This is why men walk awayto he next whore waiting for them...there's aline out there for every cock on parade.
I tell you it be in the next life before I ever have one in m y life or bed.