I don’t know why I searched out this website; I don’t know why I am writing this letter. Now, here is what I do know: I feel abused, but don’t know if I am just ultra-sensitive and misguided. But after reading what others have written in, I see myself in their situations.I married my wife a little over a year ago. She has one son from a previous marriage, and I have 2 daughters and a son from my previous marriage. I pay my child support, alimony, and half daycare costs to my ex-wife on time, every time… even though it is a decent amount out of my paycheck; I have no choice to pay and wouldn’t think of giving myself the choice not to pay. Shortly after I married my second wife (just over a year ago), she got really upset with how much I paid my ex wife, and wanted me to stop paying so much. Or, she told me, I needed to get a second job.At the same time, my work asked me if I could go to another store in a town about 3 hours away, just to help out for 3 days. They would pay for my time and mileage there and back, all my meals while I was there, and a hotel room for me to stay in. In addition, they offered me as much overtime as I needed to help bring the department in line. My wife and I discussed it, and decided the extra money would definitley help; so I went. The second day there, my truck broke down, and the soonest any shop could even look at it was a week away. I called and asked if she wanted to come get me and spend the weekend there (the store offered to take care of the hotel room for the weekend and even help offset the cost of repairing my truck), but she refused and said she knew it was a bad idea for me to go out there.She finally agreed to come out, but I could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do; she agreed, but with much hesitancy and resentment towards me. And that is when things changed dramatically. The next couple months were filled with arguments and hostility from her towards me.At the same time, that store I helped out in was comming up on a remodel, and I was asked if I wanted to go out there again to help. It would last 3 months, but they–again–would pay for time and mileage there and back every weekend, as well as meals, hotel, and overtime. My paychecks during that time would possibly double. We discussed it again, and decided we needed the extra money, and that I should go.On the day I was to arrive at that store to begin the remodel, she told me she didn’t want me to go. I told her I had already given my word that I would go, and, besides, we needed the money. She became enraged, and began yelling at me that she needed me to stay and I should just go get a second job in town. As she was yelling at me on the front porch, she began hitting me and pushing me. Luckily, I am somewhat athletic and usually aware of my surroundings, and avoided being pushed down the stairs.As she did this, she asked me why I wanted to go. I made the mistake of letting my emotions get the better of me and, as I was avoiding the stairs, said, “To get away from you.” I meant it in the way of saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I thought that with me being away during the week, the weekends with her would be great, and things would get better, and I would never fear her hitting me again.What I meant and what I said, however, were polar opposites.What I expected of each weekend, and how each weekend transpired, therefore, were also polar opposites. Each weekend was filled with more arguments. One time, she threw a glass cup through the kitchen window. Of course, when she stepped on a piece of glass immediately after breaking the window, it was my fault for making her that mad, and for not cleaning up the glass quick enough. This is how the weekends went.When I was done with the remodel of the other store, I thought things would get better, because I would be home, where she wanted me. Things only got worse. She would yell at me for not making enough money to support us, because I had to pay my ex. Then, she would yell at me for going away to earn more money instead of just getting a second job.Then, she would yell at me, because I still hadn’t gone to look for a second job. When I told her I had figured out how to balance my schedule with a second job, and that I would start looking, she yelled at me for not wanting to be with her and the family. This was a common occurence with everything around the house. We would eat dinner, I would start cleaning up dishes, and then I would get yelled at for not wanting to be with her. So, I would postpone dishes till the next day, as she had requested… or demanded.The next morning, I would get yelled at for not having done the dishes. It was the same when I started folding the laundry. We live in Utah, but my family lives in Las Vegas. Every time we went down there for one reason or another, I would suggest visiting my family for a few minutes, if for nothing else, to pay my parents part of the money we owed them for helping us with the down payment of our house.She would yell and scream at me for only wanting to be with my family and not wanting to be with just her while we were in Vegas for vacation. I would try to reason with her and ask, “If we lived in Vegas, would we ever make a trip to Utah without stopping to see your parents?” Her response: “That is totally different… this is VEGAS!!!” And the abuse started getting worse. I was, at times, slapped, hit, kneed, kicked, and choked. One time, my glasses got thrown all the way across our family room. I found the glasses rather quickly, but spent another half hour looking for the lens that had fallen out. When I finally put on my prescription sunglasses so I could see, she told me how stupid I was to wear sunglasses inside at 10:00 at night.Finally, on Christmas Eve, she told me (and this was a weekly occurrence) that she wanted a divorce. The difference this time was that I said, “Okay.” With that, another argument erupted, and the bench to our kitchen table was thrown at me. When she finally calmed down a little, I tried to talk to her.”Why would you want a divorce?” she asked.”Do you really want to know why?””Yes, please tell me.””Are you sure you really want to know?””Yes,” she said, getting a little impatient.To this, I slowly stood up and took off my shirt, exposing a two-inch scar on my back, right next to my spine.”What in the world is that from?” she asked with surprise.”Do you really want to know?””Yes.””Are you sure?” I asked, because I knew she really wasn’t ready for the answer.”Yes!” She was getting impatient again.”It is from a light switch,” I said without feeling. There was no apology from her. There was no remorse, save that of self-pity.”Oh, my god. I have become my ex-husbands.”She had been married twice before. They both ended, because they were abusive to her. I don’t know how many times I had heard her say, “If you ever lay a hand on me like they did, I will leave you in a heartbeat.” I was left to wonder why it would be okay for her to treat me that way, but not for me to treat her that way. I knew why it wouldn’t be okay for me to treat her that way. I did not know why she could treat me like this and expect me to stay. But I did stay, and I thought things would get better. She even promised it would never happen again.But then, it was New Year’s Eve. Some other argument erupted, and again she told me she wanted a divorce. Again, I said okay. This led her again to corner me and begin her physical abuse. At one point, I realized my fist was raised against her. I very calmy brought it down and held it behind my back with my other hand, so that I would not touch her while she hit, kicked, and choked me, and again threw my glasses.When things calmed down, I told her we needed a divorce, because I didn’t know if I could restrain myself from defending myself the next time she attacked me. I told her we needed a divorce, so that I would not hurt her. She then came at me with her hands raised. I ducked out of the way very quickly.”What was that for?” she asked, “I was just going to give you one last kiss goodbye.”The way she was coming at me, I thought she was going for my throat to choke me again. It did not look like she wanted a kiss. She ended up staying with me, promising that it would never happen again. I foolishly, believed her. It was about a month later when she threw her phone at my face, leaving two cuts on my left cheekbone.We were at an event with her family that weekend. At one point, her mom asked me what happened to my face. “Oh, I just slipped on some ice while shoveling snow,” I replied. My wife was close enough to hear her mom ask what had happened, but not to hear my response, as I am usually very soft-spoken. A little while later, she asked me what I had told her mom. “Oh, I forget what I said,” I lied. I knew what I had said, but I also knew it would be less upsetting to her to say that than to tell her what I had really said. It was always easier.If I disagreed with her, it was easier to just shut up and agree than to bare what rampages came from disagreeing. If she asked “why,” it was easier to bare the tirades of an “I don’t know” response, than it was those of an honest response. Just last week, she attacked me with a 2×4, and then blamed me for the bruise on her arm that twisting the 2×4 out of her hands caused. It was either twist it out of her hands, or have it come down on my ribs or over my head.I don’t know why I stay. Like I said, I don’t know why I wrote this. I’m sorry it has gotten so long. I should probably get out, but I don’t know how. I don’t know where to go.She had me sell my car to her friend, and I am driving around whatever left-over piece of junk car her parents have around their house. I have no family living close by. I have emotionally left already, from the moment she said, “You and all your friends (including family, which she didn’t say, but implied) are all a bunch of f–kin’ two-faced, goody-two-shoes, who think you’re better than everybody else; that’s the difference between [Utahns] and [Las Vegans]. [Utahns] don’t judge people!”I have, at times, not had my kids come over on weekday visits, because I was afraid of what she might do. One time, when my four-year-old was struggling in a swimming pool and felt like she was going to drown, my wife just yelled at her for not being able to swim. All of a sudden, it became my fault that my ex-wife didn’t take my girls swimming, and that my little girl was crying.I am sorry for my ramblings. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry if this has bored you, whoever might read this, if anyone. But I just had to do something, and this is all I could think of for right now.Jed