Self-Improvement
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
after a honeymoon at Disney World, the perfect place to embark on a fantasy. I see. In hindsight, we settled into a two bedroom condo in White Plains, right between our respective families. Her parents were delighted at the prospect of grandchildren. My father expressed my family's only opinion, saying he was glad that the honeymoon had been successful to demonstrate the height of normalcy. We even got a dog, a husky shepherd mix. We named Max, who became the apple of Charlotte's I. While we awaited the arrival of our little bundle of joy. Charlotte's behavior toward me was changing. She was often cold and brusque, getting very irritated at the slightest thing. I chalked it up to the pregnancy and doubled down on my efforts to please her. She grew chillier toward me and absolutely frigid in the bedroom. She began to pick fights over little things or nothing at all, and threatened to leave if I spoke. In my defense, I learned not to talk back, but soon I was walking on eggshells to avoid upsetting her. It was like living in a minefield. Even Max the dog brought her no joy. His care became my responsibility and he was relegated to an emotional doghouse. I felt like I was joining him there. On November 3rd, 1987 our daughter Lauren was born and Charlotte was ecstatic. She had found her calling, and it was motherhood. From the second our child was born. Charlotte had only one mission and poured every ounce of her manic energy into the baby. On the way home from the hospital, she wouldn't let me speak to or touch the child. She sulked and complained through the entire car ride and kicked the dog. When we entered the condo. Keep that thing away from us, she yelled, adjourning to the nursery. Charlotte wouldn't emerge for hours speaking to me only when she needed a snack from the kitchen or something to drink. Then she issue an order, take the delivery and slam the door again. Afterward, when I tried to talk to her, such an argument would ensue. It's a wonder the paint didn't peel off the walls. Defense on my part was futile. She would hurt me with her words until I was reduced to whispering and whimpering until she stopped. I always surrendered when my mother visited, eager to see her first grandchild. Charlotte would not let her see the baby. That woman raised you, Charlotte bark and look what a piece of **** you turned out to be. By this time, I agreed with her assessment of me. I had adopted her belief systems. I was a piece of ****. And if I were a better husband, she would be happier. Her contentment was, after all my responsibility. Things did de escalate a little. After that. Charlotte became obsessed with being supermom and was ordering every organic product ever made. No chemical would touch her precious child. She would be vigilant, But all was not peaceful in paradise. There were early signs something was amiss with Charlotte. But then there are none so blind as those who will not see. And I was Helen Keller.