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.

Am I worth it?

I want to write more often than I do, but I feel like a whiner, with the same subject all the time.  This has consumed my life.  It sucks.  I just want to feel better.  Things feel like they are falling back into the same routine as before.  I don’t really feel like my husband ever really felt the weight of this. I think that he knows I don’t have any financial stability without him and that there is no way I would make it on my own.  I think he knows I have no choices or options.  When all of this stuff was coming out, I told him, “Don’t let me find out in any other way that you were sleeping with her.  If you were, you need to be the one to tell me.  If I find out any other way, we are over.”

And then like a complete dipshit dumbass, when I found out, from her blog, I still didn’t make him leave.  He holds all the power and all the control.  He always says, “It’s not about power and you keep making it out to be a power struggle.”  But, I don’t.  I just know that I care so much more than he does.  Than he probably ever will, maybe more than he ever has. He walks around constantly like everything is fine, like there is nothing happening, and we are all just going to move forward as though he didn’t shatter our entire foundation as a family.  He is detached. He is not the man I married.

He bought me flowers one day, and about 2 weeks later he bought me a plant. Nothing since.  We have been trying to have “date days” on the days we have our counseling.  I have asked him repeatedly to plan something for those days.  He tried once, maybe twice, but it didn’t work for one reason or another.  But all the other, many date days, are just let’s eat lunch here and then go home.

I just want for him to put the same effort into keeping me as he did into being with her.  He planned, he lied, he woke up early, he made an effort.  I am not worth the effort, apparently.  An extra hug here, a hand held there, or a snuggle at bedtime are supposed to be enough.  That’s all I should need or want.  He’s so much more concerned with what he wants, than trying to understand what I want.  And, that’s how it’s always been.  When we didn’t have sex, for YEARS, he would grab my ass or my boobs and that was supposed to be foreplay or some type of turn on.  He didn’t touch me otherwise, no hand holding, no hugs, nothing.  But all he wanted was to grab me, like a piece of meat, and that was good enough for him, so it should be good enough for me.

I told him repeatedly that I needed more than that.  That I needed more interest than just grab ass in order to feel close enough or a connection enough to be willing to have sex with him. He didn’t hear me.  Just like when I told him for years that I was unhappy, or when I told him I was lonely, or when I told him I needed more from him in the relationship, or as a parent.  “No, I’m fine, so you are, too.”  That’s always been his stance.

I just want, for once in all these years, to feel like I matter. Like what I want is something that someone else wants for me. My value is lost, my worth is lost.  I just feel like no one cares enough to put me first.  Not even me.  I put everyone else first.  Even my husband…. Because I am a dipshit dumbass with no self worth or value.

I’m so sick of feeling this way.  I don’t want this life.

What I want you to know…

I wish that you could understand the pain that I hide.  I wish that you could feel the anguish that I feel in my soul.

I look at you every day and I know that you have no idea what I am feeling.  When we talk about this, there is no way that you can even glimpse the depth of all of the hurt that envelops me, constantly.  Everything makes me think of the betrayal: places we go, words you say, holidays, events, EVERYTHING.  It’s exhausting trying to live each day with the outward appearance of being ok.  On the inside I am so torn apart, I feel like I am bleeding out, all of me.

I wonder how you could have done this to me.  How did you wake up each day and make the decision to do the things you did.  Kissing me goodbye in the morning and then going to her.  And you wonder why I feel so unsure about our interaction now.  I want to believe all of the things that you say and do.  But, deep down in me, my heart is still crying, wondering why, feeling abandoned.  I told you, for years, how I was feeling, and you didn’t seem to care, or you just weren’t listening.  I don’t know if you were too wrapped up in yourself or if you just didn’t care about me, or us, any more.

I feel like you don’t know me.  I feel like there is no way you could understand who I am, as a person and as a wife, and still do the things you did.  How could you love me and do what you did?  I just do not understand.

I hurt.  So much.  I cant put words to it, I don’t know that the words even exist.

When you say that you know what you did and that you don’t need me to keep telling you or bringing it up, it makes me see that you don’t know my pain or you just don’t care.  When I say “you did a really horrible thing to me” and you ask me how many times I am going to tell you that, and ask if I think you don’t already know that….. No, I don’t think you know.  I don’t think that you really know, or even care to know, exactly what you did.  It is so much more than the time and feelings that you shared with her.  It’s the time and feelings that it took away from me and our family.  It’s thinking back on the times that we shared, while you were in a loving relationship with her.  You cannot love two people at the same time.  You loved her, not me.  Where I was when I first found out, I can’t visit that place any more.  Places I know you went with her, I don’t want to visit those places.  Places WE went while you were in a relationship with her, I don’t want to go those places either.  I don’t want to think of the things we did while you were in a relationship with her.  Fathers day, our summer trip, first day of school, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday… The list is so long.

Writing this makes me sick to my stomach. I need you to understand, more than anything, I need to feel like you know what you did to me.  And I don’t think you do.