Marriage and other people

Every day Becky tried to turn me against my husband. Stupidly, I would tell her things from my perception of course. Sometimes it was true and sometimes it wasn't true or I left things out. At first she acted as though she wanted my husband and I to work on our marriage.
"Would you talk to him for me? I just think he'd listen to you before he'd listen to me." I said.
She in fact agreed to speak with him, and came over the next day to tell me how it went. And, so it began. I'm not going to dredge up what he said on the phone because frankly, I doubt it was true.
Because he left, the big issue was the house. My dad and Becky believed the title should be in both our names, not just his. My husband felt differently though. His name was solely on the mortgage and he wasn't going to add my name. To this day, I still don't understand why, but I do get it to a point. I think if we had been in a better emotinal place and trusting place, he would have added my name to the title of the house. He also knew my family history with my dad and mom and he simply didn't want to put himself in a position that could hurt him. I get that.
My biggest mistake was letting too many people interfere in my marriage. I became that 15 year old girl that ran away from home because I was getting abused. I became the little girl that couldn't think for myself or make any decisions because I allowed people to take over my life.
Don't get me wrong, I needed help. I didn't have much self-confidence to begin with, but they contributed to it even more.
Every day Becky would come over and tell me what a lousy husband he is. The reason he wasn't acting lovingly toward me is because I would call him every day and pick a fight with him over whatever Becky or my dad put in my head that day. I didnt' want to divorce my husband. I wanted to work it out. I loved him after all.
I was facing a life threatening illness and all anyone seemed to focus on was my relationship with him. Becky went as far as trying to convince me that I was a battered wife. She preyed on my vulnerability.
"We've seen the bruises Leslie, we know what's going on." She said.
Well, as I explained to her the bruises on my arms and legs were because of an immune deffinciency. Before my first round of chemo, I found out I had low platelets. The doctors ran tests and found out that I had Grave's disease as well.
"My mother went through the same thing. My father was a raging alcoholic and he wasn't the kindest man." She said. "I just wish she would have left him."
I sat and listened, but that wasn't the case with me. My husband never layed a hand on me. Did we fight? Yes. Did he yell? Yes. Did he knock the cabinet door off the hinge because he was angry and hit his head on the corner of it? Yes. But that doesn't make him an abusive husband.
Day after day I fought with him. Combined with the lack of sleep, no wonder we weren't getting along. Our problems didn't come from him though. I can't explain why I couldn't trust in him because it was certainly nothing he ever did.
A lot of my misstrust in my husband was because I didn't trust or love myself. I didn't feel worthy of love. Because I wouldn't let him take care of our family, it caused huge problems for us.