Every day I wait for the pain to go away. I wonder if it ever will. I haven’t even passed my year and my future looks bleak.
Even when I have good days, my mind is still bad. I am foggy, slow, forgetful, fearful, worrisome, scared. I have never been a person who was scared. I have always been pretty confident, even if I lacked self esteem, I have always been out-spoken. For myself, for my kids, for my family.
I hate who I am. I really do. I know, to an extent, that my husband is trying. But, it never feels like enough. He worshiped his whore. Wrote blogs, and books, about her. Left her love notes. Told her how great and wonderful and perfect she was. His muse. What the fuck was I? What the fuck am I?
I hate how we, as wives, fall into a role of only that. I am his wife. I am the one who cleans his clothes, writes his checks, rears his children, bares those scars, gains that baby weight, cleans his house, feeds the kids, drives the kids, waits at home, misses my life, hopes for the life I dreamed of, imagines the future, and then finds out the truth. When do I get all the things I wanted? He got the things he wanted. He got the attention, the care, the sex, the life he wanted. He just got all those things in 2 different places. He didn’t give his attention to one, only to the other. He didn’t value the sacrifice of one, only the slutty-ness of the other. Where is my attention? Where is my care? Where is the person that will care for me when I am at my absolute lowest? How am I supposed to be attractive to the one who didn’t want me when I was ok, when I am as far from ok as I will ever be? Why the fuck to I care what he thinks? Why?
Why do we care? Why do we want to fix these relationships that they wanted no part of? Why do we want the selfish, self-centered, egotistical, pathological liars, to care about us? Why? I really don’t understand. I really don’t know why I want to stay. It isn’t the first time he looked outside our marriage. Why am I so disillusioned to believe it will be the last? I have changed for the worse, and I feel like he hasn’t changed at all. What is different?
Our counselor says that I have to “live the marriage I want, even if it’s difficult.” Right now, the marriage I want, is apparently to someone else. I was living the marriage I wanted. With a few hiccups that I felt would be resolved once the kids were older and out of the house, I thought I was moving forward with the marriage I wanted. Things were not perfect, but you never hear that they should be.
I was the dutiful wife. Make dinner. Clean the house. Rear the children. Clean the clothes. Trust what he tells you. Help with homework. Get the kids to school on time. Pick them up. Make him happy. Do all the things. Do them alone. Cry for help. Be ignored. Convince yourself that you are crazy. Question it all. Get no reply. REPEAT.
I hate the cliche that I am. I understand suicide. I would NEVER do it. But, I understand the desperation of it.
The irony of this blog is that my husband LOVES to write. He wrote all the time. Even about HER. His poor mother liked his blogs about HER without knowing what they were. If she knew, it would break her heart. But he won’t read mine.
There’s your devotion and change.
I hurt a deeper hurt than I have ever felt.
I want it to stop. But it keeps on. and on. and on.
Please make it stop. Someone tell me how to make it stop. PLEASE.