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How Many Times Have You Been Married?
Married 23 Times!
There is a story of a woman who married 23 times. How is that for perseverance in the quest for love! I don't know that I have that much faith, myself. 23 times...I quit after 3. This woman is ready to marry again. Crazy or hopeful, I don't know!
I thought I was not cut out for marriage, but this woman makes me reassess my situation. Could it be that there actually is someone who I can put up with...and who can put up with me?
Read the News Stories
- Indiana Woman Said "I Do" 23 Times | NBC Chicago
An Indiana woman has been married 23 times to all kinds of men ... but she'd still do it again because life "gets lonely."
Lonely vs Alone
Alone or Lonely
Loneliness is not usually an issue of mine. I come from a family of 5 children and being alone is a blessing. Then again, alone and lonely are are the same, but different, issues.
Lonely is the lack of human interaction...a feeling of being alone...a wish for another's presence. Although being lonely can make you feel alone, being alone does not mean you are lonely.
Alone is separated from others, but often with the connotation that it is a willing separation...a time for one's self...a moment of peace in a busy world.
I have been alone and lonely at times, but I am blessed in that God has never left me truly lonely. Every time I have felt lonely, it was brought on by my own actions.
I am often a builder of walls, not bridges. One thing I say when describing myself, is that I am flexible to a point, if you hit that point there is nothing left. Think how a log will roll over and roll over, but after rolling so far it hits the wall. No matter how hard you try to roll it there is nowhere left to go. You have hit the wall and all forward action stops. With me not only do you hit a wall, but a blankness.
Where there was caring, there is now apathy. Where there was feelings of closeness, there is now aloofness. Where there was love, there now is indifference. These are my walls.
My First Love
The first man I fell in love with is my daughter's father. That is how I think of him today...not how I thought of him years ago. If I think of him as I thought of him years ago, I may get lonely.
Years ago he was exciting, romantic, protective and fun. We had many wonderful times. I have lovely memories and funny stories. I was with him on and off from when I was 16 to when I was 28. I became pregnant with my daughter when I was 28.
Knowing I was going to have a child changed me. I would now have to look out for an innocent given into my protection. My eyes opened to all the issues in our lives that would not be conducive to raising a child. I talked to him about it, and it seemed the more I talked, the worse things became.
He started staying out until two or three in the morning on a regular basis. He stopped going to work on a regular basis...he would go 2 or 3 days a week. He began bringing "friends" home with him and they would party all night. I was pregnant and holding a full time job.
I began sleeping in the nursery and locking the door at night. I stopped talking to him about it and started yelling. The night I delivered, I had asked him not to go out. He went anyway. When I awoke with labor pains at 2am, he was sleeping. Thankfully, he had not brought anyone home with him that night.
I woke him up and he was dead drunk. He said he would drive me, but I refused and drove myself. When he finally showed up the next morning, I was in full blown labor. The nurses asked me if I wanted him to come in. I told them no.
I thought that seeing his beautiful daughter would wake him up. I was wrong...things continued to get worse. I began to make plans about how I could get away. I was too ashamed to ask my family for help, or even let them know what was going on.
My parents were living in another state. My daughter was about 5 months old and my Mom was going to come for a visit. Her father was going to work less than ever. I told him that if he didn't go to work the day my mother was picking me up to go out, that he should stay in the bedroom until we left. I didn't want to try to explain why he was home to my mother.
Well, my mother came to pick me up. This was a quick thing...let me get my purse...let me get the diaper bag...out he walks. I couldn't believe it! He couldn't stay for 5 minutes when I had practically begged him. My mother and he had their greetings and we left.
In the car, my mom asked why he wasn't at work. Suddenly everything spilled out of me. The sleeping in my daughter's room with the door locked, the all night parties, the fights and the silences. I told her that I was going to move out and it would take me about 6 months to save the money.
The following week I received a phone call. My mother had spoken with my father and they wanted me to go and live with them until I got back on my feet. I told them I couldn't do that, but they insisted. The relief I felt was incredible. I started making plans.
I told him that I was going to visit my mother for about 2 weeks. I couldn't tell him I was leaving, I knew he would talk me out of it. He could be very charismatic when he wanted. He thought it was strange that I took all my daughter's clothes and furniture. I told him I wanted her to feel at home. I left many of my clothes, all my stuff, and my cars so that he wouldn't suspect anything.
It took me about a month to work up the strength to tell him I wasn't coming back. I explained I couldn't raise a child in the environment of a constant party. He said he would leave it all and move to my location. Things started looking up.
The following week he said he and 3 of his friends were moving. I told him not to bother. It was over. The last time he saw his daughter, she was 6 months old. I asked for full custody and told him he wouldn't have to pay child support if he didn't visit. He agreed.
I look back and wish I had known some of the things I know now. Maybe if I had looked for ways to help him, instead of fighting with him we could have survived. I didn't know about rehab back then...there was no Internet to search for answers.
I built a wall and went on with my life. I rarely think on this time...it still hurts greatly. I am lonely writing this, but not alone! I better get that wall back up, before I cry.
This was the first step in my life that led to me becoming a nurse...but that is a different story. I just wanted to emphasize that with every closed door another opens.
My second marriage lasted 9 months...not exactly a union made in heaven. However, it did get me to New Mexico, where I met my third husband.
Third Time had no Charm
My third marriage had an interesting beginning, but that is a story for another day. This is already running on. Suffice it to say, that I liked him well enough and thought I could grow to love him. I was tired of trying to make ends meet on my own, and he seemed to love me very much.
We were married for 8 years, I think. (I know I should be more sentimental.) He was a stay at home dad for the first 3 years. We lived out in the country on 40 acres. He seldom left the property. I worked a minimum of 60 hours a week to make ends meet, and he would not even go to the store to get milk.
I finally asked him to get a part time job to help out. I moved us back to town to be able to see the kids more. (Oh, I forgot to mention, he is my son's father.) He got a full time job in another town.
We had been married about 3 1/2 years when I hurt my back and had to go on disability. He decided to move out. At one point, I asked for some money to buy food with and he told me he didn't have any. People I worked with took up a collection and brought me food.
He would come over sometimes to see his son. I really had nothing more to do with him, except to ask for a divorce now and again. I was in no rush, the last thing I needed was another man in my life. He was living with another woman before he finally said OK.
After the divorce, he would continually disappoint my son, saying he would come over and not showing. I can't count the number of times I saw my son on the front porch crying because the sun was setting and he had to admit his dad wasn't coming.
I would call him up and ask him to please, at least call if he wasn't going to show. Finally, I decided to move back East. Now he has a good reason for not seeing his son. I am the bad one in my son's eyes for taking him so far from his dad, but at least I don't have to see his heart break every other week.
I worked with an anesthesiologist from Pakistan for a while. He read my palm on day, and told me that I would have a great love late in life. I laughed, thinking to myself, "as if I would go down that road again".
Now I read a story about a woman who was married 23 times! It makes me question myself. I think of myself as a strong person, but maybe I am just a coward. I have built walls around myself, letting in only my family. Maybe it is time to get the wrecker out. Maybe it is time to start building bridges again.
© 2009 Kari Poulsen