I want to have long, winded conversations with you about how the boys are. Because they're ok, but not really. Because Ashley notices that you're not here, and says so. And Galen notices you're not here, and says "Daddy no yelling". And all of it breaks my heart.
All of it.
I wanted you to love being a dad as much as I love being a mom. Or maybe half as much. Some. A little.
Because they sure do love you. Way more than any dad deserves, really. They notice your absence, and they miss you. They also notice how much quieter it is. They notice how much easier it is to navigate bedtime, to navigate the morning, to navigate the house in general. They are allowed to be loud and obnoxious and silly and goofy...and no one's yelling at them to settle down.
But that doesn't mean they don't love you. They love you. We all love you.
But we don't love the angry you. Angry you is mean. Angry you is scary. Especially to two little boys who only want you to love them. And a wife who tried so hard to show you that you were loved.
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Can you stop????
I let go.
He's yours.
Why do you insist on following me around the internet? Why do you insist on making your presence known everywhere I go?
You don't need to "like" my comment on a page we both follow on facebook. I know you exist.
I had to block you on twitter.
I had to block you on all of the sites I'm a member of privately because you are joining all the groups I'm in and following my posts.
But I'm the one full of drama. :/
He's yours.
Why do you insist on following me around the internet? Why do you insist on making your presence known everywhere I go?
You don't need to "like" my comment on a page we both follow on facebook. I know you exist.
I had to block you on twitter.
I had to block you on all of the sites I'm a member of privately because you are joining all the groups I'm in and following my posts.
But I'm the one full of drama. :/
Saturday, October 1, 2016
A letter that will never be read by the person it is intended for, but needs to be written nonetheless...
I know you think I'm all kinds of crazy, full of drama, or whatever. It's ok. I'm ok being the bad person, because I've always been painted as the bad person. It doesn't matter what I've gone through, what I've put up with; It's always my fault, because I allowed people to grow rather than shut them down, and it always ultimately costs me everything. Maybe if I were selfish like everyone else in the world, this would be easier for me.
It's not.
I care.
I've seen your face. I've met your kids. I genuinely like you as a person and think that, had none of the rest of the past 6 months transpired, we would rock the fuck out of the mic at karaoke together had we met in passing. I don't want you to get hurt in the same way I don't want ANYONE to get hurt.
Anyone now includes me. And my kids. It needs to. It HAS to. I can't make you care, but I don't have to tolerate that you don't anymore. I can't make him care, either. But I don't have to tolerate the abuse, coupled with the neglect, with a cherry on top of no benefit for me.
No. Benefit.
No, him paying a little bit every month toward the rent that we're late on because he can't bother to pay a bill on time isn't a benefit. It's supposed to be what you do as an adult. It's not a benefit. A benefit would be if he were paying the correct amount, and we weren't so far behind on all of our bills. You, as an adult who handles your shit, you know this. You may not be on top of it all the time, but for fuck's sake, you try. You try HARD. I know because he worries about you. He shared his worry with me because he LOVES you. In a way he hasn't loved anyone in the past 8 years.
He has given up his family for you. Not just me. Not just his kids. His parents, his siblings, everyone. That's a HUGE sacrifice. Does it make sense? No. Is it rational? No. None of this has been rational. All of this has been unnecessary. All of this has been drama. And all of this has been taxing on those of us who benefit the least.
Today is his first visit with the boys.
First.
The first time in months he's taken them to do anything.
But, today is also the first time in 2 days that my little boy cried. He cried because he knew Daddy was coming. And Daddy is always angry. I had to reassure him that everything would be fine. He was going to have a good time.
I shouldn't have to reassure a 4 year old that Daddy is safe. You know what I mean. You've had those moments with your kids. Maybe not with their dads, but you've had to reassure them that things were going to be ok.
I guess my point is...he has given up EVERYTHING for you. Make it worthwhile. Don't break him right back.
At the same time, be on your guard. Don't let him walk all over you. Don't let him take his anger out on you. And hold him accountable. Do it early.
Or, in 8 years, you will be writing this. To someone else.
It's not.
I care.
I've seen your face. I've met your kids. I genuinely like you as a person and think that, had none of the rest of the past 6 months transpired, we would rock the fuck out of the mic at karaoke together had we met in passing. I don't want you to get hurt in the same way I don't want ANYONE to get hurt.
Anyone now includes me. And my kids. It needs to. It HAS to. I can't make you care, but I don't have to tolerate that you don't anymore. I can't make him care, either. But I don't have to tolerate the abuse, coupled with the neglect, with a cherry on top of no benefit for me.
No. Benefit.
No, him paying a little bit every month toward the rent that we're late on because he can't bother to pay a bill on time isn't a benefit. It's supposed to be what you do as an adult. It's not a benefit. A benefit would be if he were paying the correct amount, and we weren't so far behind on all of our bills. You, as an adult who handles your shit, you know this. You may not be on top of it all the time, but for fuck's sake, you try. You try HARD. I know because he worries about you. He shared his worry with me because he LOVES you. In a way he hasn't loved anyone in the past 8 years.
He has given up his family for you. Not just me. Not just his kids. His parents, his siblings, everyone. That's a HUGE sacrifice. Does it make sense? No. Is it rational? No. None of this has been rational. All of this has been unnecessary. All of this has been drama. And all of this has been taxing on those of us who benefit the least.
Today is his first visit with the boys.
First.
The first time in months he's taken them to do anything.
But, today is also the first time in 2 days that my little boy cried. He cried because he knew Daddy was coming. And Daddy is always angry. I had to reassure him that everything would be fine. He was going to have a good time.
I shouldn't have to reassure a 4 year old that Daddy is safe. You know what I mean. You've had those moments with your kids. Maybe not with their dads, but you've had to reassure them that things were going to be ok.
I guess my point is...he has given up EVERYTHING for you. Make it worthwhile. Don't break him right back.
At the same time, be on your guard. Don't let him walk all over you. Don't let him take his anger out on you. And hold him accountable. Do it early.
Or, in 8 years, you will be writing this. To someone else.
Friday, September 30, 2016
The Penny Drops...
I am somehow the problematic party in this. I am somehow the one who caused all of the hurt. All of the pain.
Not the one who lied. Who cheated. Who manipulated. Who pushed away.
It was me.
Standing up for myself was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
And, So It Begins Again
I sit here, typing, while my kids massacre their bedroom with chalk again, and my husband is somewhere with his girlfriend.
Yep. His girlfriend. The new woman that he is absolutely obsessed with, to the point of ignoring his friends, his family, his children, and his 32 weeks pregnant wife.
It is REALLY fucking cathartic to type those words. Because I've been holding it in, hiding it, and just not saying anything because I am SO fucking tired of feeling like a failure. But *I* am not the failure in this situation. I did everything right. I never pressured my husband to ask me. I stood by him when he needed me, through several mental breaks (one landing him in the hospital), job losses, homelessness, multiple occurrences of infidelity (one ending in that trip to the hospital), 2 children (one with Autism), and one more pregnancy. I have tolerated being a video game widow several times over (Because Fallout, Eve, and Grand Theft Auto are apparently worth losing sleep over), being the one that stays home while he would go out with his buddies to "hang out". Not having a job or a way to look for one because only one of us had a car, and we could never afford to buy a second. Or to pay off my tickets so I could get my license back. Missing out on things with my friends because an impromptu thing came up with HIS friends and was more important because of course dude things are more important. Not having any support through treatment and surgery for cervical cancer, 2 pregnancies, back injuries, severe mental illness problems...
And, now, I am just tired of it all.
I spent Friday night in the hospital having early labor stopped. Yes, it worked. Yes, I'm supposed to refrain from stress.
Why was I stressed out in the first place?
Let's see, among the litany of amazingly peaceful things happening in my life (literally bubble baths and bath bombs are the entire list), why would I have any reason to stress out?
Because I have had enough. And told my husband so. And gave him an ultimatum: Treat me with the respect and care I deserve, or find a new place to live as of Halloween. His name isn't on the lease, and I am almost at a place where I can change the name on all of the bills so he doesn't have that to worry about. Anything and everything would be in my name.
It shouldn't be my problem that his girlfriend wants all of his attention, but isn't willing to let him move in with her. He is 100% my problem, but 100% her pleasure? I don't fucking think so.
So, here I go forward. I am scared shitless. I have 2 kids to support, another living with my parents, and one on the way. I have no transportation in a city notorious for having shitty public transportation and where all of the stories I've heard about Uber and Lyft are fucking terrible. Where having a job requires some form of transportation and having a back injury is not an option. Where living any sort of life requires a job of some sort. Where I haven't been able to find a job in 8 fucking years. Well, 8 years next month.
I am tired. No, I am exhausted. I don't have the option for a nervous breakdown because I won't ever have the support system, and my children will become wards of the state. Where no one gives a shit that my mental illness creates hurdles no one can see, so no one cares, and I am expected to push through just because. Where if I were to cut my husband completely out of the picture, I would be seen as a feminazi bitch, and "part of the problem".
But my husband? No. He'll just be an asshole, and everyone will shrug, because men are socialized to sexualize women and not be caretakers and ignore their children. He was raised to see women as caretakers, children as a bother, and was literally left to fend for himself while his father ran off to chase sexual encounters. That same man is now a fundamentalist Christian, spouting hate as often as possible now that he's home recovering from surgery.
I've given up everything I was. Some for the better. Some in the hopes that those parts of me would one day be deemed acceptable.
And everything was for nothing.
Everything he didn't like in me, he found beautiful in someone else.
Everything I loved about myself, he would cut down.
Everything I wanted, he chalked up to a pipe dream.
This is me demanding myself back.
Yep. His girlfriend. The new woman that he is absolutely obsessed with, to the point of ignoring his friends, his family, his children, and his 32 weeks pregnant wife.
It is REALLY fucking cathartic to type those words. Because I've been holding it in, hiding it, and just not saying anything because I am SO fucking tired of feeling like a failure. But *I* am not the failure in this situation. I did everything right. I never pressured my husband to ask me. I stood by him when he needed me, through several mental breaks (one landing him in the hospital), job losses, homelessness, multiple occurrences of infidelity (one ending in that trip to the hospital), 2 children (one with Autism), and one more pregnancy. I have tolerated being a video game widow several times over (Because Fallout, Eve, and Grand Theft Auto are apparently worth losing sleep over), being the one that stays home while he would go out with his buddies to "hang out". Not having a job or a way to look for one because only one of us had a car, and we could never afford to buy a second. Or to pay off my tickets so I could get my license back. Missing out on things with my friends because an impromptu thing came up with HIS friends and was more important because of course dude things are more important. Not having any support through treatment and surgery for cervical cancer, 2 pregnancies, back injuries, severe mental illness problems...
And, now, I am just tired of it all.
I spent Friday night in the hospital having early labor stopped. Yes, it worked. Yes, I'm supposed to refrain from stress.
Why was I stressed out in the first place?
Let's see, among the litany of amazingly peaceful things happening in my life (literally bubble baths and bath bombs are the entire list), why would I have any reason to stress out?
Because I have had enough. And told my husband so. And gave him an ultimatum: Treat me with the respect and care I deserve, or find a new place to live as of Halloween. His name isn't on the lease, and I am almost at a place where I can change the name on all of the bills so he doesn't have that to worry about. Anything and everything would be in my name.
It shouldn't be my problem that his girlfriend wants all of his attention, but isn't willing to let him move in with her. He is 100% my problem, but 100% her pleasure? I don't fucking think so.
So, here I go forward. I am scared shitless. I have 2 kids to support, another living with my parents, and one on the way. I have no transportation in a city notorious for having shitty public transportation and where all of the stories I've heard about Uber and Lyft are fucking terrible. Where having a job requires some form of transportation and having a back injury is not an option. Where living any sort of life requires a job of some sort. Where I haven't been able to find a job in 8 fucking years. Well, 8 years next month.
I am tired. No, I am exhausted. I don't have the option for a nervous breakdown because I won't ever have the support system, and my children will become wards of the state. Where no one gives a shit that my mental illness creates hurdles no one can see, so no one cares, and I am expected to push through just because. Where if I were to cut my husband completely out of the picture, I would be seen as a feminazi bitch, and "part of the problem".
But my husband? No. He'll just be an asshole, and everyone will shrug, because men are socialized to sexualize women and not be caretakers and ignore their children. He was raised to see women as caretakers, children as a bother, and was literally left to fend for himself while his father ran off to chase sexual encounters. That same man is now a fundamentalist Christian, spouting hate as often as possible now that he's home recovering from surgery.
I've given up everything I was. Some for the better. Some in the hopes that those parts of me would one day be deemed acceptable.
And everything was for nothing.
Everything he didn't like in me, he found beautiful in someone else.
Everything I loved about myself, he would cut down.
Everything I wanted, he chalked up to a pipe dream.
This is me demanding myself back.
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