Heart Speaks (pt. 2)

Updated: Jan 21

We weren't married but eight months.


And, to be honest, I don't remember much of it.


I was taking 17 credit hours in the Secretary Certification at SUU and working at Payless Shoe Source and I was a part-time secretary at Southern Utah Mortuary.

We found a cute little place to live in an attic of an old house. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. We found a bright green and bright orange couch from the DI and had a small boob tube tv (you know what I'm talking about)


He was in the National Guard, so one weekend a month, he was there, and he worked a few weekends a month at the old folks home, as well as went to school a few credit hours.


Whenever he'd come home from being gone over the weekend, I'd have our "Kama Sutra" book open to a new page and a new position (wink wink) being the cute wife I was trying to be, wearing lingerie (puke), and looking forward to making him happy.

(by the way, those positions are impossible to get into and really really stupid, if you ask me...)


So, I worked and went to school during the week. He went to school during the week, and on the weekends we both worked. A typical newlywed life.


My role was established pretty early on. I was to cook and clean and iron his uniform if he had guard duty that night. He would play Nintendo (yes, that was what we had back then) and would wait for me to come home to iron his uniform and to make dinner. I learned really quickly how to use spray starch. I cooked homemade meals straight from the box :) and for the most part, enjoyed it...

except I didn't.


I remember watching TV and the mattress commercials would come on of the cute couple in their cute jammies cuddling all cute on their bed.


I don't know how it happened, but I found a corner of our bed and would stay there. I am not sure what I was afraid of, or what needed to be said. But there was something in there that wasn't right.


He would ask me frequently if there was something wrong. I remember being quiet. Shy. A little reserved. (so not like me... !!) I remember being "submissive and meek" (I hate those words... !!) and a good wife. But I wasn't okay.


I didn't have any friends. I didn't speak to my family much. I suppose I was trying to figure out who I was, and where I belonged. He'd been living in the town for almost five years and knew lots of people and had lots of friends. As he should.


In conversations we had in later years, after our marriage, he'd say to me, "I would ask if something was wrong, and when you'd say nothing, I believed you!"


Which makes sense, right?! Except I didn't know what was wrong. I didn't know what to say. He was the first real relationship I'd had. I was under the impression you were supposed to get married and it would be a happy ending! All would be good, and easy, and he'd love you and be kind to you and continually sweep you off your feet.

When this didn't happen, I didn't want to complain. I wanted to be grateful for what I had. I didn't want to be needy or whiny or annoying.


So, I kept quiet. Put a smile on my face and was unhappy.


I don't remember doing much together, as a couple. Probably because I was so busy. I remember waiting for hours after getting off work for him to come to pick me up. He'd be with his friends hanging out and would forget to come to get me. I remember lack of conversations and having nothing to say (weird, I know)


One time I drove home from work during my break to see him. He was playing a football game on Nintendo and I was eating chips and salsa. I thought his team had made a touchdown on the game, so I cheered! (as a cute wife should ((totally pretending to care)) and, well, it wasn't his team. He got angry and let me know it wasn't his team, and me being a little sarcastic, threw the corner of a chip at him and said "gosh, so sorry..." he got angry, not just angry. MAD! He stood up, grabbed his hot cup of tea, and threw it on my face.


I remember standing there stunned. Not sure what to do or how to even move. Just staring at the anger and hatred in his face.


I cleaned myself up, and went back to work, unsure of what to do, where to go, or what to say.


We never talked about that night. I shoved my feelings under the rug. I kept quiet, put on my fake smile, and went on with my life.


Our marriage wasn't all bad. I am sure there were good parts to our relationship. But to be honest, I don't remember them. I was so young. So inexperienced. And what the hell were my parents thinking that I was ready to get married at the age of 19!?!?


The worst part is how it ended.


We'd come up to Salt Lake for one of the July celebrations. My usual personality requires that when music is played, I dance. So here I am with my family. Somebody famous is singing (I can't for the life of me remember who it was) and he won't stand up to dance, so neither should I. My mom gives me the "why aren't you dancing look?" so I stand up, but don't dance. I just stand there...

Stand there...

Stand there...


Who am I and what am I supposed to do when my husband doesn't want me to be who I am but I want to be who I am but I don't know who I am so I just stand there?...

We drove back to Cedar City that night. The next day I called my dad and had him meet me. I took my things while he was at work, put a goodbye letter on his car, and left.


I love you,

Love,

Sariah

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