My own personal 9/11

Every year since 2001, the anniversary of 9/11 has been celebrated, commemorating the tragedy of the World Trade Center. Well, I have always had my own silent commemoration, my own personal anniversary. You see, this was the day in 1993 that I was married. When you get married, the whole world of romance novels fills your head, and you think that marriage is forever, and wonderful and if you're in love, then nothing can go wrong. But I was wrong. And I found out the hard way. I never should have gotten married, and so I commemorate that anniversary as a reminder to always pay attention to the small voice inside. I should have paid attention to the signs, but I was never one to pay heed to the big red flags that were flapping about, so why should this be any different? I'm one who learns by experiences, for better or for worse. This one was for worse, but in the end, it was for the better. We had met at the local record store, Reckless Records in San Francisco. I was dating a musician, Harry, and Dan was dating an artist, but that relationship was just coming to an end. I hated him at first, he bugged me, but as we got to know each other working together day after day, I realized he was incredibly smart, and really pretty interesting. So I tried to match him up with my best friend. They dated for a few months, but it ended in drama. Meanwhile, Harry and I had split up and I needed a room mate, and Dan needed a place to live, so he moved in, and we started hanging around together after work, going for drinks, going to shows. We went to see The Ramones and Social Distortion play, and it was at that show that we realized we both had fallen in love with eachother. I called my friend who had dated him and told her, and despite the fact that they had been broken up for a month, she was furious with me, and accused me of stabbing her in the back. We were never friends again. Despite that, Dan and I moved forward with our romance. He drank, and he drank alot, but I rationalized that it wasn't affecting me, so it wasn't really my problem. This is the beginning stages of co-dependence, but I had never heard of codepence at that point. We'd make plans based around his drinking, and if he didn't feel like doing something, then the plans changed. It was my birthday and he had encouraged me to take the day off of work. I had told him I wanted to go out to dinner at one of my favorite restaraunts, and then go see a band afterwards. I don't even remember who the band was, but needless to say, he didn't bother to make reservations, and he never got tickets for the show. He was too busy drinking and watching daytime TV. I was furious, and hurt, and needless to say, my birthday was ruined. I should have seen the signs, but I didn't. When he asked me to marry him I was thrilled. The disappointments, the hurts, the slights kept coming for the next few months, but he was my fiance, and I made excuses. 9 months later, Sept 11 1993, we stood together under a beautiful canopy of oaks and Douglas Firs, surrounded by my family and friends, and his mom and dad, and their spouses, plus his grandma and sister. The night before, we had fought so badly that I was finally starting to realize that maybe this wasn't the best decision I had made, but I ignored that little voice. That morning, he was running around like a crazy person, trying to keep both sets of parents apart due to some perceived drama. After the cememony, it was party time, bbq'd hot dogs, salad, beer... I didn't spend any time with him, but mostly hung out with my friends. I should have noticed then but again, the little voice was ignored.... who doesn't hang out with their new husband on their wedding day? Fast foward 3 years..... he is just getting out of the hospital and detox, after having almost died of internal bleeding brought on by alcohol. I was miserable, and i was getting ready to leave him, but he begged me not to go, and promised things would change. He had gotten abusive, both verbally and occasionally physically. But I kept ignoring that little voice inside, saying I didn't deserve this, that this is not how people in love lived. He had hit me infront of my sister, while he was drunk, and that really caused me to stop. But I didn't leave and I tuned the voice out.... I had some weird false idea that when you made a commitment like marriage, you followed through with it for better or worse. Maybe its because that's what I grew up with. My parents relationship was not a happy one, but here they are 50 years later, still married. Fast forward 3 more years, and he had started drinking again, and was more and more abusive, calling me names, threatening me, intimidation. I was a shell of myself, without even the energy to be angry any more. One day, it hit me, and I finally realized I was done. I told him I was leaving, and he pulled a knife on me and threatened to slit me "from navel to nose". I thank God that I had to courage to leave. It took me 3 months to find a place to live, and all that time, I pretended I had changed my mind and I would stay, but I was making plans to escape. In March 1999, I finally left. 6 years after that fateful day. I lived through hell for 6 years, my own personal World Trade Center melt-down, but I survived. I bless and commemorate every year my own 9/11 comes around that I had the courage to save my own life.