When we first married, we moved shortly from an apartment to a mobile home in Lathrop, a small town near Manteca, CA. Yancey commuted to Livermore to work for Sandia National Labs. About two years into the marriage I was expecting, and we had a baby girl, Megan. She arrived a bit on the early side, and settled in well.
Below the surface I was struggling intensely with his mother issues.
Once, when she was spending a week with us in from TN, we had neighbors come over from the home across from us, she was an RN, and we had both had babies around the same time. Chloe and Megan played together when they were little and I was trying to find my way as a new Mother. Yancey's mother "Ruby", sat next to him and I was freaking out watching the way she was looking at him. She would scoot close, and take her fingers and begin stroking his leg back and forth while he sat cross legged on the couch. She would bat her eyelashes at him, as if coming on to him but I was SO naive back then, I figured it was simply an 'only child, mother/son' thing I didn't understand yet.
It was at this perplexing moment that Barb took me aside (the RN) and said "Don't you see what's going on here??" "Um, no" "His mother is totally and completely inappropriate with her grown son, you need to watch that and find out what's going on". I blew it off, I didn't KNOW what she meant. Now, almost 28 years later and one massively botched security clearance later, I get it.
This made me think about our sex life, as well. It was becoming a consistent thing, especially after we had Megan, each and everytime we had sex, what I considered 'normal' missionary sex, within a few minutes to a few hours after this, when I'm thinking we had connected decently, he would fly into these 'coming at you from left field' rages. He always acted as if he did something 'wrong' by having sex with me. It took me 20+ years to figure out the puzzle pieces.
One day, when Meggy was about 18 months, the main water line to our mobile began leaking, Yancey went out to fix it, and instead, managed to break the main completely and we had a good 15 foot fountain pouring straight up into the sky. He went ballistic, as if this were my fault, ranting, raving, screaming at Megan and I. I had just finished making chocolate pudding and had it in a bowl, when he came storming into the house, screaming over his terrible life, took a grocery bag and put it over Megan's head, grabbed my bowl of pudding, and threw it with all his might into the kitchen window over the sink, splattering chocolate pudding everywhere, when I reacted asking what the hell was wrong with him, he pinned me to the ground, and put his hands around my throat as if he were going to choke me.
I was terrified, and realized something was very broken, very wrong. When someone tries to choke you, they don't like you. He was obsessing over the water main break and finally got it to stop working and then the cycle began.
Megan was OK, she was fine, but I never knew why he put the bag over her head and then lifted it off again quickly, and after that he never went after the kids save for yelling.
I didn't know it was a cycle then, though. "I'm so sorry" as he adopted the most charming attitude ever. Using intellectual words to explain himself away, and "I"ll never do it again' placating me as much as he possibly could early on. And I bought it. Hook, line. Sunk.
I cleaned up the pudding mess, while he finally was able to control the water main, and left him to consider a divorce. He showed up at my parent's home raging over the wedding ring that was his mother's that he wanted back. Whatever.
I went back, like I always did, for 18 long, tortuous years.
Back then I was ashamed. Ashamed of the abuse, and all the lies he was telling all his friends. He painted the worst picture possible about me, while I was simply attempting to survive the rages out of left field, the OCD over money and washing his hands incessantly. So I stayed. What else was I supposed to do back then? My line of thinking was "if anyone ever found out" it would be soo embarrassing and he's so sorry I know he's trying to do better. At least that's what he was trying to convince me of.
One especially hot summer evening, a blaze of blue lights and several loud pops exploded right near our mobile and Yancey screamed at me at the top of his lungs "GET DOWN!!!! GET DOWN NOW!!!, HIT THE FLOOR!!!" and I did so, but I figured he had lost his mind at that very moment. He had a security clearance with Sandia, so I didn't or wasn't allowed to know much of what he did, but later he expressed to me and continued to do so for years, that someday, when he was old and gray, he would tell me all the secret things he was not allowed to tell me now.
I began to wonder how stable he was. But then in the latter years that line got really interesting. I'll write more on that later.
I thought he had really lost his marbles with the entire get down on the floor its raining gun fire episode... and yet, I stayed. Trying to trust the un-trustable.
When Megan turned three, we found out a family member was molesting other family members, and at that critical life change, he got a job offer to move to SC to work for Westinghouse SRS in Aiken. We took the offer, for us I wanted to get out of California back then and all the negative family gossip. It was horrific and I had to talk to detectives, and police, and so on and so forth. I was devastated, and Yancey?? The day I found out, he refused to be of comfort and refused to take off work, we had also had Morgan then, who was just about to turn 15 months or so.
Yancey would not talk about it, he would not listen. He would ignore what happened, and absolutely refused to be a part of the process to heal.
His mother called incessantly. She called him at work, she called him and together, they would get on the phone and she would tell him how suicidal she was over him leaving TN - getting his own life together was not an option.
His father had died in 1981, and apparently Yancey was supposed to take over and stay in TN. They both continued to discuss my failings and shortcomings. We were invited to a party once, when she was visiting, and a friend came up to me asking if I was 'alright, because she had to get away from Ruby who was ranting and raging over the FAQ her son 'left her'. She was up to her nose in the middle of our lives when she should be been busy getting on with hers.
They discussed him never having clean laundry, I was nursing a toddler and raising a three year old day in and day out, he had all weekend to toss a load in, but instead, sat in front of Star Trek eating Oreo cookies and doing nothing.
He would wake up in the mornings sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands in dramatic prose waiting for me to respond or give him attention and I began to learn that he wanted a mother, not a wife who was an equal. He wanted someone to take care of him the way his Mama did, he didn't want someone with an opinion he wanted someone who would nod and agree with everything he did and said no matter what.
He turned people at work against me. When they gave him a 'going away' party, before we moved to SC, I was told by one co worker "You know, you better treat him right or..." was that a threat? What in the world was he saying to these co workers?? At the same time, I discovered notes in his briefcase from another woman.
He was playing with fire while I was raising kids, then decided to tell me about "Glenda". IN fact, when I was rushing myself to the hospital to have Morgan, and called him to tell him, he told me had to 'work' that day and could not come for the birth...WHAT???? It was then I found out about "Glenda Gentry Mathes". He sat me down when we moved to SC and that's when the real hitting began.
I was forced to listen to him go on and on about how "no one will ever love him or be in love with him" and he began to explain to me the importance of Glenda's responses to him vs. mine. Yeah, they met in a hotel and supposedly all they did was 'kiss'. There were letters to him from Glenda in his briefcase that were entirely too personal and evident there was more to the story. I confronted her and she had the audacity to say "well those were not meant for you to read" hell fucking no. Yeah, they were. He was my husband at the moment, NOT hers.
I found a picture of her the other day, old, ugly and lots of gray hair. Must be guilt that brought on the white hair, you witch.
W.T.F.
I'll tell you right now why I didn't and couldn't 'respond' to him. A), I was being verbally abused, B) I was being physically abused, C) he did NOT know how to keep clean in the private areas of his body, and I mean, I had to wash towels AFTER every shower and I was disgusted. SEX was disgusting because HE SMELLED and there is NOTHING more demotivating about having sex with someone IF they smell!!! D) I was getting nailed with rages that left me bewildered coming out of nowhere after I DID try to have sex with him. So there you have it, Glenda Gentry Mathes, I hope your daughter finds out what you really were back in your Sandia days - You should be so lucky that you NEVER got involved with Yancey long term, probably saved your LIFE you idiot, selfish, stupid bitch.
And E) IF I EVER tried to calmly discuss these issues, I would have to do so if I were dropping and rolling through the house while ducking and covering so I would NOT get hit.
Yes, I'm mad, yes this particular post is harsh, but oh yes, I'm finally GETTING IT OUT!!!!!
Stay tuned.... for....SC's 'slut en de barge'.
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