Surviving Domestic Challenges

I last left my faithful readers of this colorful saga with the bombshell that my husband had locked me out of the house. I’ll need to provide some background information so you can understand how we arrived at this point.

My husband is an alcoholic. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He’s “tried” a variety of treatments over the years and has even maintained extended periods of sobriety. But it is what it is, and about a year ago, he started hearing voices when he was sober, or rather, while he was detoxing. Concerned, I did some research of my own, and as you might have guessed, that’s a sign of mental impairment caused by drinking. 

So these voices were always negative, and they took on the sound of people he knew, the neighbor, his brother, his friend, even his dead mother. As he heard them plain as day, there was no convincing him that there was no one there. He withdrew from socializing during these periods (which typically lasted 3-4 days) and became a hermit. Once the voices stopped, he’d start drinking again, thus creating an endless cycle. 

Naturally enough, eventually these voices started in about me. I have no idea what they told him, but he started accusing me of all sorts of things. Apparently, I was having affairs with every male in La Yacata (the person kept changing), I was doing illegal things (although he was never specific), and I was against him when I denied these ridiculous allegations. 

In the last 6 months, his threats, insults, and general hostility towards me reached an all-time high. In between bouts of recriminations, I went about my life as best I could, attending to Yacata colonos, teaching my classes, doing household chores, taking the dog for walks, etc. 

That particular Sunday, my husband set up an ultimatum. I either stayed home from the monthly community meeting, or I didn’t come home. I tried to be conciliatory and said I’d only be gone 2 hours, and then I’d make lunch, but that wasn’t enough for him. He was crying hysterically about how I was choosing the community over him and destroying our family. I left for the junta, and he locked and barred the door behind me. 

After the junta, I tried to talk to him through the door, but he wasn’t having any of it. He’d been drinking pretty heavily for the past couple of days. So I went over to my son’s house, which is still under construction, and that’s where I’ve been ever since. 

About 2 days later, my husband said I could come in and get some things, but only what I could carry, without any help. I moved as much as I could in the 30 minutes he gave me access while he followed me from room to room, screaming insults at me. I was able to get my computer, my underwear, my mattress, the cats, and a few kitchen items. 

He told me that I had “left willingly” and that I took everything that I wanted, abandoning the rest, and the house, to him. Of course, that wasn’t true, but it was how he was going to spin things. The next few days consisted of him hosting rousing panchangas (parties) in front of the house and insulting me to his “friends” as they egged him on. All of those losers are without spouses currently, and they all had “war stories” and suggestions on how he could get his revenge on me. 

After a few days of dealing with all that, I finally decided it was time to hire a lawyer. So I did. Things are still moving along in that process.

In the meantime, I had a plumber come in to finish the bathroom, and now my son, our two cats, six dogs, and I are all squeezed into his house. It was really meant for one person, but we’re making it work. With the legal costs piling up, I don’t have the funds to tackle the rest of the projects that would make the place more comfortable, but I’m hopeful that it won’t be too long before I’m back on my feet.

There’s truly never a dull moment here in La Yacata.

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Read about how it all began in La Yacata Revolution: How NOT to Buy a Piece of Heaven in Mexico.