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!

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.

Thankful for what?

Thanksgiving is a hard time.  It is definitely going to be a day that “triggers” me for a long time.  For a few reasons.  One is that last year, for the first time in probably 10+ years, I cooked our meal at home. In the past, I had been out of town with family while he stayed home and worked.  Well, as I found out later, he actually celebrated thanksgiving with his whore a week before he did with his actual family, while I was out of town for a wedding.  This will forever be a thing that messes with me.  Not only that, but he wrote a little note to her about it, about their celebration and how he “took a big bite” out of her turkey and how he’s so glad they can be silly and be themselves around each other.  Then, after I found out about her and he cut off ties with her, she wrote a note to my mother in law, on mother’s day, saying “I just want you to know that your son stuck his face in my turkey and took a big bite.”

I wonder when I will ever feel normal again.  Or feel whole again.  Or stop feeling so stupid.  I hate that I have to pretend that everything is ok so that everyone around me is comfortable and happy.  Just like I pretended like everything was fine and let him walk all over me while he cheated on me.

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.