It is 1:45 am.
He’s in the kitchen making all kinds of food.
“Would you like a couple pieces of bacon and a piece of toast?”
No…. it’s almost 2am.
” Ok ok…. geeze.”
A couple minutes later, comes into my room. “Would you like just Onnnneee Bite, because itsss sooooo gooood.”
“its just ONE bite!”
Oh, ok. Cause that one bite won’t make me want more. Why do you just go offer someone a tiny taste of cocaine.
4:15 – My son and I are still up, just hanging out. Laying in my bed both of us on our tablets. I get up to make a piece of toast because I’m hungry…. out stumbles my husband,
“Oh you couldn’t take one bite of my food but you can eat now.”
It’s toast, leave me alone. I return to my room and shut the door.
This is exactly why we hide the things we hide because this jerk has to make an issue. It had briefly crossed my mind to give the toast to my son so I wouldn’t have to hear his comments and my son said he actually thought about taking the toast so we wouldn’t hear the comments but in the end we chose to not hide and we got the damn comments.
I tell my daughter and then my husband “I am going to eat.” I make myself a sandwich, in the meantime my daughter comes out and makes herself some leftovers. We’re sitting at the table eating when my husband walks out. The look on his face is “shock” (I mean honestly how could I eat without letting him know/making him food/asking his permission/whatever.) I say, “I told you I was going to eat.”
Dear Lord, I must have somehow magically called him a bitch because he lost his mind. “OH NO YOU DID NOT.”
“Yes, I did. I told our daughter then I walked directly to the room you were in and told you. You may not have heard me but I did tell you.”
Slamming, banging and shit throwing begins. I look at my daughter and mouth, do not react, do not react… I am saying it to her but for me as well. I start showing her something on my tablet to distract us both and we begin to talk like “normal” people. This only intensifies the banging and door slamming. I finish my food and get up so I can put away my things. I ask him if he needs something that I left out and he snaps at me, “Don’t worry about anything I will take care of myself by myself.”
I react… I couldn’t help it. Inside my head I could hear myself saying DONNNN’T DOOOO ITTTT. ha!
I kept my words calm and collected but it just set him off like no tomorrow.
I’m a know it all.
I’m always right.
I only care about myself.
I am mean.
I treat him like shit.
I actually laughed out loud and walked out of the room.
The funny (not funny) thing is, I had spent a better part of the morning watching youtube videos telling me how to respond and not react. How to disconnect and not play the game. Then, I went and Connected, Reacted and Played the game! I played his game, HARD and I lost. I allowed him to push my buttons.
I was feeling bad about the way I treat him this morning. I felt guilty that I wasn’t giving him a fair chance. Why do I doubt that he is the monster I know he is and somehow think I am the one at fault? Why can’t I stop doing that?
Then… an hour later. I fall apart. I’m wholly depressed and see no light, no way out. I’m defeated and crying. I am so over living this life. I’m not wonderful but I am not horrible.
I think the most common phrase that comes out of my mouth is .. I’m tired. I am tired, but more often than being sleepy type of tired… I’m tired of being me. I’m tired of being asked “how are you?” you don’t really care to know the truth. Who gives a fuck how I am anyway? I’m tired of lying and I’m tired of you pretending to care. You don’t care. Quit asking. I’m tired of worrying about everyone else, tired of caring about anyone else. I just want to take care of me.
I can completely understand why my mom checked out. Being the least important thing in the world is tiring. Sorry, you have to go to the Dr with me, no you’re not. Sorry I don’t help out more. No, you’re not. Sorry, I didn’t do it on my own. No, you’re not. Sorry, you had to help with that… No, you’re not. If you were sorry or you felt bad you would make an effort to change. But it is comfortable to be lazy. Each and every one of you is comfortable being lazy.
My sister exercises and works out. I cheered her on, way to go with your bad self. She said, I don’t want to have a heart attack.
I thought, I do, I just hope it kills me.
Of course I couldn’t say that… that opens my life for discussion and honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.
I want to give up. I am so tired of living. I’m tired of struggling through each day, dreading the next. I don’t see anything better, brighter… It will just be the same old shit. I hear my train, the one that will be mine some day, if I live here long enough. I imagine standing beside the tracks, then just at the last minute, step in front. I’m sorry conductor guy. Don’t feel bad.
I hope I’m brave enough, I’d rather jump from somewhere high, but there’s no where liked that here. How exhilerating to free fall to death. To be free…
Mom, why did you have to go and leave me here? My life was still much better with you in it. I’m empty.
In the month of march we celebrated two birthdays, I had two loved ones tell me they wanted to die, I had one loved one beg me to let her die, I’ve been to the emergency room twice, the doctor too many times to count and a family member quit/lose their job and then lose health insurance, had a loved one have major surgery, had three loved ones get super sick and I’m tired, so very tired.