Is it January YET??

I hate the holidays.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, but beyond that, there are NO holidays I enjoy.  Not my birthday, mother’s day, fourth of July, Christmas, Thanksgi…. you get the point.  The thing is, the indifference has changed into hatred of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  My husband celebrated Thanksgiving with his whore a week early while I was at a wedding.  The year that I was going to be be cooking at home, for the first time in 6+ years. So… there’s the fun thought of him celebrating and loving all over his slut while I was trudging 3 kids on a 4 hour each way trip, to see my cousin get married. Then, acting like he actually enjoyed the meal I made…and ate that meal with my parents. And of course, who can forget that he wrote her a freaking BOOK for her Christmas present.  She was his MUSE after all! He loved her and all she was to and for him.  He never wrote me a book, he wrote me a poem when we first started dating.  And he wrote me a few notes, because I made him.  She was so great for his creativity.  He wrote blogs to and about her.  She was just his everything.

And here is me.  His nothing.  His chains, his trap, his death, his downfall, his burden.  And I feel like I am all those things to him.  I don’t feel like he loves me, much less likes me.  And one of his big reasons for not writing things for or to me is because I didn’t read his book.  Guess how many of my blogs he has read…..  As many of his vows that he stayed true to!

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Today

So, clearly I haven’t written in a long time.  I think about writing and then I wonder if writing about all this makes me think about it or thinking about it makes me want to write about it.

Anyway, I still live day to day, wondering what different decisions could or maybe should have been made.  I think about how my life would be different now if I made him leave.  If I tried to just make it on my own.  I didn’t have an income then.  I do now, but it’s definitely not “raise a family on my own” kind of money.  We spent many years putting money into an IRA for him, and a few bucks into one for me.  His investment averaged $200 a month, while mine was $25.  It was always very much a “his money” situation.  I stopped working when we had our first child and didn’t return to working until our youngest started Kindergarten, 9 years later.  Not having worked for so long, my prospects have always been minimal.  Plus, add in that I am still the primary caregiver for the kids, getting them to and from school, sports, discipline, and most homework, and most dinners, I can’t really get a full-time, fully demanding job.  I am currently an Executive Assistant.  It pays well, but only I get around 26 hours a week.  I recently had to put my son in extended day in order to get the hours I need in at work.  That takes away $150 a month, so I end up making even less.  It’s frustrating to think about how little hope I would have on my own.

My thoughts are so all over the place about what I want to say and get out and at the same time, I wonder how many women are on here, looking for hope of their own.  You know, the ones who just found out or discovered and they are on here searching, much like I once was, for that hope.  For that blog that talks about how “my husband cheated, I stayed and we are strong again, he shows me he loves me and knows that he made a mistake and although things are not perfect, he understands me and tries to be patient and giving in all ways.”  The unicorns.

For me, things were so bad at first that I couldn’t see an end that made any sense or had any semblance of happiness.  Things very slowly improved, and then we just fell back into the same routines as we were in before.  And now, just like before, I tell him that I am unhappy, feeling lonely, or needing more, and just like before, it falls on deaf ears.  “I will try” is what I get but nothing changes and no priority is placed on our relationship or our time together.  He planned a date, and kept talking about how he was excited about it, but leading up to it, he couldn’t even be bothered to be nice to me.  It’s like there is this one moment in time that I am going to be the things that I promised you I would be, but until and after that, I am going to be whatever I want.

Anyway, I am done for today.  Maybe I’ll be back again soon.  I am giving up on so much, maybe this will be one thing I give up forever, too.