S2 Episode 3: Divorce Before Death | "Survival from Settling"

In this third episode, Meg begins with a short recap of the season in order to explain what brings her to this current episode that features themes of Domestic Abuse, Divorce, and Red Flags. Meg provides some context in the hope of explaining to her audience that Domestic Abuse often is a slow process, which is why microaggressions are often overlooked until microaggressions become more dangerous -- which is why so many individuals stay in abusive relationships.

She goes over the smaller red flags that she overlooked, because of the abusive situations she experienced in her home life -- often seeing red as ways to be more helpful. Follow her tale of the husband who became a beast she had to flee from before she became the Beast Tamer she is today. A tale of survival from settling for less, Meg demonstrates that even though leaving an abusive relationship is difficult, the strength to leave can be fulfilling on its own. She leaves her audience with a call to action to remember their own worth and that YOU are deserving of the life and love you desire.

National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800.799.7233 or text START to 88788

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Transcript

Introduction:

Welcome to the Erotic Renaissance, I’m Meg De la Torre, your Linguist of Love. Thank you for tuning in and enjoying another episode alongside me. You probably heard my last episode in which I provided the example of Leo for the purpose of introducing the topic of consent. This episode came to you after an erotic tale about Lumiere, who knew that waiting for permission would give him more pleasure. And today, I want to remind you about the danger of being blind to red flags (like the ones experienced with Leo) by talking about a current issue in my life – my divorce from my husband (who we will name X for the purposes of this episode). This will be a very raw and vulnerable episode for me, as I see this topic as one that many people need to hear that might be stuck in a marriage or relationship that is quietly deteriorating their spirit. As usual, I will first provide some context on the topic before I get into the story of what happened. I will then close with some final thoughts. This episode will feature topics related to domestic abuse. If that is a topic that is too sensitive for you to hear at the moment, I want to give you space to make the decision to head into this episode mindfully.

This episode is not being supported by a particular podcast partner, so I want to take the opportunity to remind you that you can make a difference by speaking up and putting money or volunteer time into supporting issues that are important to you. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800.799.7233 or text START to 88788. I am sharing how I was blind to red flags, so you can begin to see red as the color “red” and take it as a sign to exit as safely as soon as you are able to.

Context

To give a little background or context, I wrote this episode on the eve of what I thought would be the final hearing for my divorce. As I am revising my notes, I can say that I see a light at the end of the tunnel despite having to return to court again in November. This episode is in many ways a release, as I have carried this energetic tie to my ex-husband  since 2019, when I separated from him. I want to make sure to remind you that the relationship dynamic was not always as bad as it was in the end, which is what made it easy for me to stay as long as I did (2013-2019). Think of the analogy of the frog in boiling water, right? If you place a frog in a pot of water and slowly raise the temperature, the frog will not notice it is slowly being killed, or in the case of abusive relationships, an individual will not realize how much of themselves they are losing or how close they are to danger if it is slowly introduced over a long period of time. 

There were many times in the past in which this relationship was helpful or good for me in many ways. For example, X helped me escape the abusive home I was living in. For that, I am grateful, even though it was primarily his mother that helped me realize the abuse that I had been conditioned to see as normal. While someone who didn’t grow up with abuse and neglect normalized in the home might recognize the red flags that will be mentioned through this story immediately, I grew up seeing the color “red” daily. And because of this home environment, it made my ability to detect red flags very difficult. And because of my own personal desire to help people, I saw his red flags as ways to help him, and I truly believed I was helping him. He had been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, so I was extra patient with him. He is a smart man, but has a very manipulative side that I overlooked for a long time. So I’ll now turn to the story for today, entitled, “

Title

There were many times in which I realized how things were toxic, but I made excuses. When my thesis notes were thrown about the room in disorder, I said, “Well, I should have just finished what he asked me to do. That would have avoided his frustration and anger. He just doesn’t understand how stressed I am about finishing this thesis paper.” My excuses often sounded like this, as I carried my mother’s voice from the past into the present. Afterall, I would always remind myself, people always tell me how good I am for him and how much kinder he has been since dating me.

What others didn’t know was how exhausted I was because I was writing papers for his MBA classes, while I was in a graduate program as well. He would throw a fit if I didn’t do homework for him, leaving me often awake until 5am finishing my own assignments after I had done his homework. I suffered from lack of sleep and exceptionally high expectations, but I carried the words: “I am so happy he has you” like a badge of honor through those years. 

However, there were times in which I felt the effects of the overlooked red flags, and I almost left – three times to be exact. One moment was after a fight in which he emotionally hurt me in such a way that it is hard to talk about to this day. His mother had heard and confided in me, saying, “Megan, I am worried about you dating my son. I have never seen him in a relationship with anyone and I get worried he would be abusive.” I smiled at her and reassured her that I was okay, because he was so good to me other times. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything like my father had done or said in rage, so I stayed. 

The second time was just before we learned his mother had cancer. Wrong Timing, I said to myself. I need to be there for both of them. And the third was shortly after his mother had passed away. It had hit him hard, and I wanted to be there for him, because I had adored his mother and as she slipped away from us, she had asked me to take care of him for her. At this point, it felt awful to even think of abandoning him when he needed support the most. So, I stayed and told myself I would leave after he could process things and be in a better place to say goodbye to someone else.

Three months later, he proposed.

And I accepted his proposal, even though there was something that didn’t feel exactly right in me. Don’t have such high expectations, I said to myself. However, as I was preparing to go down the aisle in 2016, I heard a voice in the back of my mind whisper to me, saying, “This is going to be the biggest mistake of your life.” As I thought of the people waiting for me to come down the aisle, I convinced myself that I was getting cold feet and gaslit myself into not hearing my intuition’s plea to run away. I thought of how X would be smiling at me and so happy to see me. “Oh, Meg, you’re just nervous. Surely, when you see him smiling, you’ll be reassured.” So I walked out with expectations he couldn’t meet, as he wore a furrowed brow and an expression that said, “...about time – you were almost late.” Even as I walked forward, I cried – continuing to gaslight myself into believing it was too late, when me in hindsight knows now that everyone would have loved the dramatic flair of me running away and still throwing the party – a celebration of freedom more than the imprisonment I was walking into.

To help my listener best understand what kind of mistake I foresaw, I want to take you six months into marriage when we purchased our first home together – a condo in San Diego. I was so excited and proud as I was told to go in and sign title paperwork, and I happily signed where the notary pointed. What I and my real estate agent didn’t know was that my newlywed husband had secretly drawn up an interspousal transfer deed for me to sign instead of the title paperwork. As X usually wears an expression of disdain and contempt, it felt normal for him to  carry that expression – the same as our wedding day - into the purchase of our new home. Thus, I was unaware that I had just signed over all my rights to the property. I wouldn’t find out until May of this year – nearly six years later.

Married life was uncomfortable alongside him. He often was out of work or would get fired, leaving me with four part-time jobs to work in order to pay for the mortgage and expenses. One day, I came home from work to find him sitting on the couch crying. That’s when I found out he had been fired two weeks prior and had been going to the casino to gamble instead. However, that had become normal too. He often used his savings to gamble, and I had been told by his mother, to “let him do whatever he wants with his money,” so I used any time I had at home to help him apply for new jobs, as he refused do it without my help.

I, on the other hand, was often yelled at for spending money on food while going between my many jobs. And when I started hiding money from him, so I could hold onto a semblance of my freedom and independence, he of course always found it by going through my things in search of money. He would tell me I was selfish for keeping money of my own, and because I watched my mother give every dollar she had to my father, that wasn’t a red flag to me either just yet.

I was starting to realize how miserable I was. My reality was mirrored back in the few who chose to tell me how unfairly I was being treated, so I asked my husband to start being the kind of partner I wanted and needed in my life. I told him I would leave him if he didn’t start showing up with love and support. I even gave him examples of the behavior I was hoping for – as I had throughout the relationship, but he told me, “You knew what you were getting into when you married me,” and he chose to not make effort, despite the ultimatum I made, giving him a year to show me improvement. Every day he began to get worse. And a few months into 2019, the physical abuse began.

 His lack of control over me led to more violent behaviors. In the car, he would slam on the gas and then the break if he was angry or upset with me, telling me that when he committed suicide one day, it would most likely be in the car. He mentioned on more than one occasion that he would go off the Coronado Bridge and that I would probably be in the car with him. Shortly after these threats began, he then threatened to hurt my dog in a furious moment, picking her up and claiming he was going to throw her if I didn’t do what he said right in that instant. And only after I grasped her away from him did he laugh maniacally, saying, “You’re crazy for actually believing I would do that!”

And this brings me to the final moments before the separation. I am now going to share two really intense episodes that were my final signs to leave. Before flying up to Maine for a wedding, he told me to pack his suitcase. I was teaching at the time and was exhausted. However, I began packing the bags after returning from classes. With a few things left to pack, I laid down to rest. Upon coming in and seeing me sleeping on the couch, he kicked me to wake me up, “Hey,” he said, “you didn’t finish packing.” I asked him to please let me rest and that I was almost done. He yelled for me to finish right then and ran into the room when I continued to rest. Upon hearing crashing, I ran into the room to find that he was throwing the suitcase around, sending clothing and toiletry bottles crashing against the floor and walls of the bedroom. A bottle of shampoo hit Luna as she ran in the room with me to see what was happening. With debris scattered everywhere, he then demanded that I finish packing. I spent the trip trying to avoid upsetting him in hushed movements like I learned from my mother. Seeing her fear in me, I realized things were getting worse. 

And they did shortly after our return home. We were staying at Viejas Casino, and I was getting ready to go down to dinner while he was watching television on the bed. I heard him call over to me saying, “We’re going to be on a show like this one day.” When I walked into the room, I saw he was watching a crime show on Investigative Detectives. Not wanting to believe what I was assuming he meant, I asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that we’re going to be on a show like this one day when I kill you.”

I immediately thought of my father telling me that God would rather me die if my husband wanted to kill me rather than get a divorce, because it would be God’s will. I refused to believe that then and I refuse to believe that still. So, I took a deep breathe, and I was quiet as I allowed his words to echo around me. 

I told him I would call the police if he ever made a statement like that again, but part of me felt the need to leave more fervently than ever. I spent the evening sleepless with fear that I might not have the opportunity to wake up again. So I spent the night roaming around the casino hallways, praying silently that I would be safe and make it home. And on the way home, I ensured that I drove in an effort to avoid any impulse he might feel should he be behind the wheel. When he went to work the next day, my best friends and I packed Luna and anything we could fit into our cars and I moved into a motel where I stayed until I could move into someone’s spare bedroom. This was in 2019 when I couldn’t wait a moment longer and felt death approaching faster than I expected. 

The first year was spent trying to find a place that was safe and stable, finding myself living in a motel, a spare room, a friend’s couch, and with my abuela before finding my apartment – and in the process, I found myself. 

As I have now spent two years waiting for this divorce to get settled after filing for the divorce in 2020, I found out that my then husband of six months had the notary draw up an Interspousal Transfer Deed without me or our real estate agent’s knowledge, meaning that I signed away my rights to the home we had worked so hard to purchase together. Six months into marriage, he quietly took away my rights. I tell you this story to reinforce your intuitive thoughts that prick up your energy that you might often ignore; there is a possibility that there is a red flag that you are overlooking. 

Closing

Thank you for listening to this tale that aims to provide a perspective on the topics of Domestic Abuse, Divorce, and being blind to red flags. As I hope this episode demonstrates, leaving abuse can be really difficult. You might not notice red flags immediately; you might have to be in scary situations in order to escape, and you might be settling for less and less until you’ve allowed yourself to deteriorate under the corrosion of fear. You are worth so much more than you realize, and whether you are married to a job that is unfulfilling or in a relationship that doesn’t meet your expectations or needs, you deserve to exit safely and find the life or love that you desire.

 As always, thank you so much for tuning into the Erotic Renaissance, where my aim is to help society see that being a sensual and sexual Woman is something that can be and should be celebrated and that every soul is deserving of body autonomy and sexual liberation – that at everyone’s core is a little bit of kink waiting to be discovered, and that the sensual soul is a part of us all.

It is my hope that you found within this episode the strength in me mirrored back in you through a personal narrative of survival and gratitude of self-liberation.

I am Meg De la Torre, your Linguist of Love, let me seduce you.