I couldn’t take it anymore. When he got home from work that night I told him. Things have to change. I can’t be here anymore. This place makes me crazy! I am lonely, bored, sad, and a million other things. I want to go back to Florida. Our marriage isn’t working. We just can’t fake it anymore.
He stared at me in shock. As if all of this was new information. He had no clue I felt this way. I was delusional. I needed help. I should go to the Chaplain on base and talk this out. I really needed to get some stuff of my chest apparently. Now it was my turn to stare dumbfounded. I needed help? Er? How did all this turn into me needing therapy? What in the world?
He went to his computer, fired it up and began his game. I sat staring. Did I need therapy? What in the hell was wrong with me… ? Why was this so difficult? I just wanted to go the FUCK BACK TO FLORIDA. Couldn’t anybody HEAR ME??? I pulled the plug on the computer. I got in his face. I lost all of my composure. Probably not the best way to handle this situation. He pounced as if I had just smacked him in the face. I was immediately pinned to the wall. He was screaming, I was bracing myself for whatever was coming next. I could see the fury in his eyes as he pushed me to the side and then bashed his head into the concrete wall. Blood splattered everywhere, I screamed and ran to the other side of the room, confusion and shock pulsing through my veins.
He stood there leaning against the wall for a moment, walked to the bathroom for a wash cloth, and then grabbed his keys and left. While he was gone I called his First Shirt at his squadron on base and explained the situation. I told him I didn’t want to get him in trouble I just wanted to go home. I needed to leave.
The First Shirt made a visit to our home, and made England spend the night on base, he also mandated that we had to go speak to a Chaplain before anyone could go anywhere. It was up to us to try to save our marriage and family first and foremost. Did no one hear me talking at all? I wanted to go home. There was nothing left to save. I was done. There hadn’t been anything to save for years. But my only way home was through the doors of a therapist.