Since we were broke, and, of course, it was my fault. So my husband decided I needed to get a job. Again.
But not just any job.
No, this time his genius idea was the Air National Guard.
"It's perfect," he said. "They pay you well, it's just weekends, and you could get a sign-on bonus if you score high enough on the ASVAB."
He made such a compelling argument that I actually listened. I even went to talk to a recruiter near our house. He gave me the study materials and told me to take my time preparing.
I didn't study.
Not out of arrogance, just… I wasn't worried about it. My husband had gone on and on about how hard it was, how it took him two tries to pass. But I figured if he could do it, so could I.
So I showed up and took the test. Math, science, spatial reasoning, vocabulary, kind of a bizarre mashup of every subject I hadn't thought about since high school. Still, I did my best and turned it in.
They graded it right then and there.
"You got a 98," the proctor said.
And I, thinking this was school, lit up.
"An A?! Oh my God, that's amazing!"
Apparently… that's not how it works.
The ASVAB is scored on a scale. The lowest passing score to get into the military is 32. The highest is 99.
I got a 98.
That's basically genius-level military potential. Combat Barbie meets logistics queen.
I was glowing. Floating.
Until I looked around… and saw two people crying. One of them had failed, again, on their third try.
So I stopped celebrating. I sat back down, quiet and awkward, letting my achievement shrink into silence. But inside?
I was proud of myself.
Funny enough, I later learned the ASVAB is practically a neurodivergent sorting hat. Turns out, autism looks a lot like military potential, just with less yelling and more hyperfixations.
The recruiter called me the next day. He was thrilled. Told me I could join as soon as I passed the physical. I'd qualify for a bonus. I'd start at a higher rank than most new recruits.
Staff sergeant.
That's a rank above my husband's.
And that's when the fairytale ended.
Because my husband? Was pissed.
He didn't say "Congratulations." He didn't hug me. He didn't ask how I felt about it.
He stewed. He sulked. He threw sarcasm like knives, because how dare I shine.
"Must be nice being everyone's favorite."
"Guess they hand out stripes to anyone now."
"I bet you feel real special."
And honestly?
I did.
For the first time in forever, I had something of my own. A win. A path. A future.
And he hated it.
Because if I was successful, if I had a career, a title, a uniform, that meant I didn't need him. That meant I might realize I didn't need him.
And that? Was the most threatening thing I could ever become:
Independent.
The reason I would've joined at that rank, Staff Sergeant, was because of the college credits I already had. I'd gone to school for a few years before everything else, and that mattered.
Just not to him.
He didn't celebrate. He didn't ask about the rank. Instead, he made a snide comment about how it must've been my looks.
"Bet they just saw a pretty face."
I was eight months pregnant.
A pregnant woman with potential? Apparently, that's treason.
The sign-on bonus? Was somewhere between $20,000 and $40,000. Real money. Freedom money. The kind of money that would've changed our lives, paid off debt, given us breathing room.
He didn't want breathing room. He wanted control. He wanted obedience. He wanted me small enough to stay.
But I had made up my mind. I was going to do it. For me. For our kids. For our future.
And that's when he pulled the final card. The dirtiest one.
"If you join, I won't let you see the kids."
"I'll take them while you're at basic. You'll be gone for six weeks, then twelve more after that. I'll go to court. I'll prove you're unfit."
Unfit.
That word slammed into me like a steel door.
He'd been planting that seed for years. Whispering it in fights. Sneaking it into conversations.
"You're selfish."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"You don't even like being a mom."
And now, he was using it as a weapon. The one he knew would work.
Because I could survive being broke. I could survive him. But I couldn't survive losing my kids.
So I didn't go.
After my daughter was born, the recruiter called a few times. He was so hopeful. So encouraging.
"You scored a 98, remember? You'd be such a strong asset."
"It's not too late."
But I could never tell him the truth.
I couldn't say: My husband threatened to take my children.
So I just said,
"No. I'm sorry. I can't."
And that was it.
One of the biggest chances I ever had to change my life. Gone.
Because I loved my children more than I loved my freedom.
And that's what he counted on. That I would choose love. That I would choose them.
Even if it meant losing me.
And I did lose me. Piece by piece. Until one day, I couldn't find her at all.