It was about 7 something in the morning. We were still living in our first apartment and He was asleep. I usually got up before him and made breakfast and would start on lunch and dinner as well.
I heard a *BEEP BEEP BEEP* like there may have been an 18 wheeler backing up in the parking lot, so I peeked out the blinds just to be nosey and maybe catch who may be moving into our building. (Don’t judge me, we all do it! Lol)
I was totally confused by what I saw. It was a tow truck loading a car…My car!…MY NEW CAR onto the bed!!
I was running to put clothes on…
“No! No! No! No!…”
Somewhere in my race around the apartment to find 2 mix matched shoes, a blue jean skirt, and a robe; he woke up.
He grabbed me by my shoulders, spun me around and with calm concern he asks, “What’s wrong Keanna?”
In tears and while breaking out of his grasp, I try to spit out the words to describe that my car was being towed away! I knew it had to be a mistake because I gave him the money to pay the note for that month! (Now, exactly how much of that made it out of my mouth, I really don’t know. I’m sure I made little sense.)
As I ran out the door, racing towards the stairs, yelling “EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME!”, my husband yells down to me,
“I told them to come get it!”
I stopped in my tracks…
“What? You did… huh? I gave you the money to pay the note!?”
“Right, but when I called to pay it, I asked after all 5 years were done, how much we would’ve ended up paying them. She said something like $48k. I told her no thanks, and to come get it!”
I broke. Not into more tears, but inside.
(Let’s do some retracking shall we)
At this time, it had been 2 months since his father passed away, almost 3 months since he lost his job and he had yet to find a new one.
I wanted him to take his time because a lot had happened over those few months. However, as much as I wanted him to grieve and recover, I was ready for him to find a job and soon because it was getting rough on me. However, I never conveyed this to him. Even though he had completely stopped looking for work.
We didn’t have the money to eat out, which meant I had to cook everyday. I didn’t mind cooking but it’s a different feeling when you have to cook.
I was paying 2 car notes, insurance, cell phones, rent, water, electricity and food. Now, I know I sound like I made good money, but I really didn’t. I made just enough to cover us.
I was stressed.
Although giving this car back made more money available, it was a major hit to my credit. (His credit too because he was a co-signer!) A hit that didn’t make sense because his car was more expensive than mine!?
We weren’t behind on anything at that time!
I was trying to juggle all the balls going in this circus act, and was doing a good job. Unfortunately, the very thing I was trying to prevent, he just allowed…
(Back to our regular scheduled programming)
I stood still on the steps trying to keep it together. Refusing to cry, fighting the urge to scream, convincing myself that my husband ‘meant’ well.
All the while, my husband runs back into the apartment and then runs passed me to give the keys to the tow man.
As he comes back up the stairs, he puts his arm around me and walks me back up the stairs, assuring me that he grabbed all of the things out of the car the night before and that they’re in the living room on the chair.
In this moment I had SO many questions that I couldn’t even begin to start asking! Such as:
“If you knew last night that they were coming in the morning, why didn’t you tell me then?!”
Better question, “Why didn’t you tell me after you told them to do this over the phone?!”
Even better question, “Why didn’t you just pay the bill and we discuss your idea for what you wanted to do with my car, at a later date?!”
And, “Where in the world is my money?!”
But instead of asking questions, I listened to him give his explanation. After he finished, I told him that I understood his want to help me by getting rid of a bill. However, I would’ve been better assisted, if he had a job.
I said it with calmness but I said it in anger… and he felt it when I said it. I could tell by the look in his eyes; I hurt him.
(Was I wrong for this? Probably. Only because I don’t believe in tearing down your spouse. Was there another way I could’ve handled it? Maybe. Did I say I was the perfect wife? No.)
This was the first step towards the control he had over me.
In so many stories of domestic situations, it starts with control.
The strange thing about it is that you don’t even realize you’re being controlled, while it’s happening.
Only an outside source or hindsight can really show you when and how control is gained.
P.s. Thanks for reading and feel free to share my blog with those that could benefit! Stay tuned for the next post!