One may wonder… how did I end up married to a sociopathic monster? I wonder that myself all the time. Here’s how it went down:

I had been living in New York City for about a year and was introduced to my husband through a mutual friend. The first time I saw him was in his office. I walked in and saw a pair of blue eyes, round as quarters, surrounded by A LOT of extra skin. He was about 2-300 lbs overweight. He had kind eyes and I immediately felt comfortable.

We quickly became friends and started spending a lot of time together. Never had anyone gone out of their way for me as much as this guy. He had no issue driving almost 2 hours to the city for me, taking me any place I wanted to go, and funding the whole experience. He also had my whole apartment re-painted and encouraged me to take the summer off when I got laid off from my job. “You deserve it”, he told me. I spent that summer lounging on the sun deck of the Chelsea Piers gym.

Although I was fundamentally not attracted to him, he somehow became my boyfriend. It wasn’t the money, it was the irreplaceable feeling of comfort and support. He made me feel like I was family from the very start, and that anything I ever needed would be taken care of. My mother was dying of cancer, I was not close with my father,  and I was an only child. The cocoon of love and support that was provided to me was more important than the sexual attraction I did not feel.

I did cheat on him one time while we were dating. It was the only time in my whole entire life that I had betrayed anybody. I couldn’t make it stop. I was madly in love with the “wrong” guy the whole time my husband and I had been together, but I figured it was impractical to date him since he was too young and a dancer. I confessed my indiscretion to my husband the day after I slept with him. Two days later he forgave me and we went on vacation.

I went through two or three breakups with my husband during our dating relationship. Each was initiated by me, and each was because I wasn’t attracted to him and didn’t feel like I could keep it going. Each time he begged and begged until I took him back. I questioned the importance of being attracted to my partner in the first place. I wondered if I could just suck it up for a bit longer if the attraction would grow. After all, with him I would always be safe and protected.

The last time I broke up with him we were able to stay apart for several weeks. I felt alone and uncomfortable, but I felt good. The burden was finally gone. It was a hot Saturday afternoon of a New York summer, and my friend and I were getting ready to spend the afternoon at the Hotel Americano pool. I received an unexpected call from him in the morning. “I just miss you. No strings attached. Do you want to hang out?” He was really a great guy and I missed the friendship, and I really saw no harm in one more day spent together. “Ok – Wanna come with us to the pool today?”

Several hours later the three of us were lounging at the pool. He had lost about 1-200 pounds since the first day I met him. The pitchers of sangria were flowing and our inhibitions were shrinking. After a day full of swimming, drinking, and sunning all three of us were lit to say the least. We tried to go to dinner in the Meatpacking, but my friend was in especially bad shape. Halfway to the restaurant we had to tell the Uber to turn around and go back to our apartment. About 15 minutes later my friend was throwing up in the bathroom and we were having sex. I distinctly remember being thrilled that I wasn’t hating it.

This was the day my daughter was conceived. 

I “felt” her right away. It took me less than two weeks to feel the change in my body, and the pregnancy test confirmed it. I was not married, not in a relationship, and had no prospects, but I didn’t care. The joy I felt was indescribable. There was nothing more in the world that I wanted more than this baby. 

After all, I was a successful Manhattan woman. I definitely wasn’t going to be the first single mom and I wasn’t going to be the last. Moreover, my baby was going to have an amazing and supportive dad that would do anything for her. 

I couldn’t wait to tell him. Although we were not together, he had told me many times that he wanted another child (he already had 2).  So we started talking again and planned a trip to St Bart right away. I gave him the positive pregnancy test in a gift- wrapped box at the airport. As I predicted, he was thrilled.

As the next few months unfolded, I started falling again. I was pregnant, tired, and extremely emotional. He was always there to support me. He was willing to put up with anything and exercised the utmost patience. By the 5th month I ended up moving in with him and his two kids to the Upper West Side. I didn’t mean to move in with him. One day more clothes ended up at his apartment than my own. And so he built me a new closet. Everything he did was for me.

I detested living with him and his two kids in that apartment more than life itself. I hated everything about it – the smelly hallways, his kids sitting on my couch, the lack of privacy. More than anything, I hated sleeping next to him. He had sleep apnea and other sleep problems, so laying still and quiet in the night was not something he was capable of. I am a light sleeper. I screamed the whole time during my second trimester. I told him I hated his kids, I hated this life, and I wanted to go home. He didn’t care, he forgave me. He supported me no matter what. 

The day I delivered my daughter was the best day of my life. Although my dream of a home birth in a warm pool did not come true due to her late entrance, I was still able to deliver in a midwife friendly hospital with no medical intervention. I was so in love.   She came out strong and crawled up my belly to nurse right away. I was nervous since I had heard so many stories about babies not being able to latch on to the nipple, but she had no issues. 

3 months later my husband and I started therapy. We couldn’t get along and needed help communicating. He had also gained a large chunk of his weight back during my pregnancy, and was back on his sleep apnea machine. I was a nursing mom and exhausted. There were also two other kids living in the house that I never bargained for. The therapy helped, but in retrospect the whole thing was doomed before it started.

A few months later we moved into a beautiful new apartment on Riverside Drive. This place was a palace and I got to work with a designer to decorate it exactly how I wanted it. The 12 foot ceilings and dining room suited for a small army really made me feel like a queen.  My daughter was 7 months old now and I was back at work. My husband was passionately working on his new business. Life was good. I had a gigantic apartment on the Upper West Side, a beautiful daughter, a successful husband, and a nanny to pick up the slack for me when I got too tired. 

But our relationship was never in a good place. It was impossible to sleep next to him due to the sleep apnea machine and the constant twitching.  His schedule was completely backwards compared to mine- he liked to stay up late, sleep late, and stay inside most of the time. I am an early riser, love being outside, and am constantly on the move to the next activity. It was even tough for us to eat dinner together. He preferred to order Chinese food, while I preferred the home cooked food of our traditional Turkmen nanny.

Sex was next to impossible. I had a scar from childbirth and I had lichen sclerosis. He had A LOT of loose skin down there due to the weight issues. Most importantly, I was not attracted to him. In fact, I was repulsed. At this point he was at least 100 pounds overweight.

I felt guilty. I tried to help him. I tried my hardest to make it work. I tried to sleep with him and I hated every moment of it. But, I loved my family and it was my responsibility to hold it together. Like any other mom, I wanted my daughter to grow up with her parents in one home. So I kept trying. 

This lasted until my daughter was 3 years old when I hit my limit. After several unsuccessful attempts to get him to turn his life around, I knew it was time to separate. He was now smoking, engaging in unethical business practices, and we were fighting regularly. He also led the unhealthiest lifestyle I had ever witnessed. It was not good for my daughter to continue to live in this environment.

So I told him I would move my stuff to my old apartment, and we would work on things. “I DON’T want a divorce”, I told him. “I want things to get better. “

But things only got worse. He started smoking several packs a day and threatening me regularly. He begged me to come home several times, and I told him “I would love to… can you please just make some changes in your life?” He replied “I am!” But in reality things were only getting worse. I could not for the life me understand why he was sabotaging himself. He was ruining his health, his marriage, and his well-being.

Then the accusations came. He constantly made me into the martyr by telling me I left my family and my daughter, when in reality I left him. I had still been spending more time with my daughter than he was.

The bullying should have been a sign of what was to come. There were constant text messages that started with “This is how it’s going to be…”, and ended with “You have xxx hours to answer me” He convinced me that I needed to find a new apartment that could house both my grandmother and my daughter. Only then would he be ok with everything. He even tried to tell me that not having a separate bedroom for your child is illegal. 

So I started looking. I found an absolutely beautiful park facing apartment in a doorman building. It was expensive, but I knew I had to do this for myself in order to start my new life. I also wanted to be close to him so that my daughter could easily travel back and forth between our apartments. It was important for her to have both her mom and dad.

I called him… “I have good news! I found an apartment nearby that’s big enough.” I was sure that now that he had gotten what he wanted the separation was going to get easier. But the lack of enthusiasm on the other end of the line indicated how wrong I was. I received the following text message the next day…

“Early dinner you and me tomorrow. Don’t sign lease or send any money yet until we speak. I think I might have an alternative solution to this which gives us both what we want is better for our daugher than the alternative. Just tell them if they ask that your lawyer is reviewing the lease and it will take a day or so.”

Dinner ended up to be breakfast the next day. “Don’t take the apartment. I’ll move to my son’s room. We can live on opposite sides of the apartment and still share time with our daughter. I’ll still pay for everything. ” I have to admit that it was a very enticing offer. I wouldn’t have to spend an insane amount of money on housing, I would get to live with my daughter 100% of the time, and I wouldn’t have to sleep anywhere near him anymore. Nevertheless, it took me less than 24 hours to decline. I knew that if we kept living together that I could never move on with my life. I called him and told him “I thought about your offer, but I’m going to take the new place.”

This is when the hostility really began. He told me at this point that our daughter was going to stay with him and she could “come visit me” sometimes. I brushed this off as venting. Of course my daughter was going to stay with me at least as much as she will stay with him. I received text messages like the following…

“You no longer get to choose what, where and when she does stuff on your own. You took out all day yesterday and I barely saw her. You leave this morning ridiculously early and I don’t see her again this morning.”

“Lawyer the fuck up”

“Like I said, will not allow you to make me a part time parent. Giddiup”

In a strange way I still felt bad for him. He couldn’t get his life together and he was acting out. I wished there was a way that I could help him. I wished that my daughter’s father had his act together. I was sure that this was just a phase and that my daughter would happily be scooting back and forth between our houses very soon.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

What happens next is here.

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