Amazing Johnny is Mentally Unbalanced
While my husband decided I wasn’t even worthy of basic rights and respect, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. It terrified me. I did my best to juggle work, my nightmare at home, and going to doctor’s appointments with her. I would cry in my car on my long commute home. Tears would just stream down my face as I tried to calm myself down so I could see to drive. I absolutely dreaded driving towards Amazing Johnny. I was still trying to save my little family not realizing there was nothing left to save.
A few months later Amazing Johnny and I went to the same conference for our respective jobs. The evening before we flew back home, he had been drinking pretty heavily. We went to bed a little after midnight. The next thing I knew, he was stumbling into our hotel room and flipped the lights on around 5am. He was completely trashed. I knew he had gone to bed with me, so I was shocked and asked him what the hell was going on. He said he had snuck out and met some girl at a bar downstairs. He said that after hours of flirting and touching each other (I never got more details than that out of him and he barely admitted to even that), she asked him if he wanted to go up to her hotel room. It was as if he was bragging to me like I was one of his buddies as opposed to the wife he was supposed to be faithful to. It was surreal. He doesn’t remember her name, and I never heard about her again.
Shortly after that, Amazing Johnny said he couldn’t stand to live with me anymore and moved into his parents’ house. Based on our credit card records and the frequent charges at a liquor store, he spent most of the time drinking. He also started smoking cigarettes. He came to the house often and repeatedly told me that I “fill the house with hatred and anger” and that he couldn’t stand to be under the same roof. He would make himself physically sick until he went outside to calm down and smoke. One time when we went outside to the patio because he felt he couldn’t breathe in the house, he started screaming at me about all the things I did wrong and what a bad wife I was. His screaming echoed off the house. I began to cry and begged him to come inside so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.
Amazing Johnny treated me so bad that the stray cat I had rescued in DC and lugged through all of our moves would actually run up to him and attack him with no provocation when he was at the house. I’d like to think she knew he was a bad person and was defending me. She attacked no one else. The other cat—the one that Johnny had insisted on getting when we bought the house because he wanted a lap cat—was so stressed by the toxic environment that he licked all the fur off his belly. (I’m happy to say it has mostly grown back now.)