…such a fucking bitch?” That’s what hear muttered from the other side of the bathroom door. This after I stated a problem, looking for some acknowledgement, but instead got arguments. So I state the problem again, hoping it will be heard this time. Only to hear that question muttered outside the bathroom door. The stated problem was minor, but the issue of him being checked out and missing the majority of what I say, has been a long time issue. I, of course, confronted him on the question he had just asked, and was met with nothing but denial. Yesterday, I sat on the couch where he usually sits. There were loose staples on the couch and I asked where they all came from (even with a big butt, sitting on staples hurts). His response….I don’t know. More denial. I used the car to go across town (which he usually drives) and found a bunch of loose staples. I know they didn’t come from me, or from our daughter who doesn’t drive, so why were they in the cubby in the handle of the drivers side door? Only he knows, but he’s not saying. I asked him why he didn’t tell me they came from him when I asked about the staples in the conversation the night before. He said “Did you ask me about that yesterday? I don’t remember.” A five minute conversation…erased from memory. And I’m the bitch?
He’s checked out, and I want out. How can I make ends meet without him? Right now we are nothing more than roommates, attached to each other by a legal document that costs more than I can afford to pay to have it removed. He pays the big bills, and I only make enough to cover my bills, with a little left to put towards the main ones. I don’t make enough. As hard as I’m trying to change that, it doesn’t feel like it will change any time soon. I feel like I will forever be stuck in that catch 22 where I make too much money to get the help I need, and too little money to make it on my own.
There is a daily struggle to not let my situation consume me. Every work day, I drag myself out of bed and paste on the best smile I can muster and leave my house wishing that I didn’t have to come back to the same shitty situation. It has been a tough 13 (soon to be 14) years. We started out so good. How did we end up here? Marriage isn’t easy, and for the majority of us, we’re lying if we say it is. Things that didn’t use to bother me absolutely annoy the hell out of me now. If anything is to change with this relationship, I am going to have to change it. Whether I choose to work it out, or walk out…something’s got to change!
…has been a tough one. Between struggles at work and home it’s been tougher than most, and is taking its toll on my body. I learned a very important lesson last year that has helped me through weeks like this: “Today was tough, but tomorrow will be better.” I continually have to look for the “better” in each day. It’s not always easy to find (this week especially), but it is there.
I consider myself to be a strong person. I also know I have many weaknesses. In the span of 5 days, I have been cursed at, flipped off, slapped, punched, kicked, stepped on, and talked down to and ignored (and that’s just at work)! I have also been disrespected, talked down to, ignored and argued with at home. My body is sore and my mind is exhausted. I have stood firm and broken down. I have shown my strengths and stubbornness and been reminded of my weaknesses.
Through it all, in the smallest hints of progress, I am able to see the “better” that today brings when yesterday was so difficult. I work with elementary school children who fit in the severe classification of special ed. They range from low to high functioning, and from physical and mental deficits to behavioral and emotional deficits. Some are non verbal, while others are verbal to the extreme. I find that some days it’s very difficult to get out of bed in the morning (like the mornings after a bad day), and others I wake up feeling like “Today, something good will happen.”
It really is the small things that keep me going.
…is to be different than I am. To be smarter. To be healthier. To be skinnier. To be more tone and fit. To be less of a door mat. To be more assertive. To be a better mom. To spend more time with my daughter. To help her see how amazing she is. To have more energy. To be a better wife, or to be better single. To be…more than I think I can (or deserve) to be.
But reality is…I’m only me. I can only ever be me. I can wish and want and dream to be better, but it will never happen…unless…I can find a way to be happy. Truly happy…with myself being me. Is being me really so bad?
I’m not perfect. I don’t know everything, and I don’t want to. I’d like to honestly say that I can always admit when I’m wrong, but I can’t. So many times I have stumbled, but I have always gotten back up. So many promises were made to me, and then broken. Sure, I’m bitter about some of them, but maybe that’s ok seeing as how I’ve missed out. I pictured my life being so different by now. Maybe it’s just that I’m scared about turning 40. I can’t even say that it snuck up on me because it didn’t. I saw it coming. Part of me wishes that death would come for me, quietly in the night, so I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Ok, suffer is probably a slight overstatement. So I wouldn’t have to deal with life’s many disappointments. Yup, that’s better. My life has been hard for me. I imagine everyone feels that their life has been hard for them though. I’m not that special.
One thing I’ve learned, that helps me to not be so down about myself and about life, is to tell someone I need to hear something positive about me. Usually it’s one of my brothers or uncles or mom. Sometimes it friends. When I’m really down and I can’t think of anything positive about myself, I have a group of people that I trust who are always able to find the positive in me. These are also the very same people who won’t hesitate to kick my butt when I need it. Trust me…I’ve needed it.
I struggle to ask for help, and I keep things inside so I don’t become a burden to others; but holding everything in and keeping it all to myself leads me to explode on whoever is in my way when I’ve reached my limit. I don’t mean to lash out, and I try not to, but I fail. I’ve lived a life that has left me weary and scarred. I have people that I trust, but I guess I am unable to trust them completely. I can’t allow others to tear down the walls I’ve built up to protect myself. There seems to be no middle ground. People in my life have either been extremely selfish or extremely selfless. Again, no middle ground. I continue to try. I continue to learn the harsh lessons that come from failing to ask for help. I won’t give up!
Dear Sean and Jessica,
These are some of the things I know. I know that life hasn’t been easy for you. I know that you have both missed out on things, whether by your own choices or the decisions that dad and I have made that have affected your lives. I know that we aren’t able to give you everything we want to give you. I know that sometimes you two get along great, but most of the time you don’t get along at all. I know that at times you both feel alone, abandoned, let down, frustrated, unloved, misunderstood, hurt, and devalued.
Even more important than the things I have listed above: I know that dad and I love you. I know that you are independant minded. I know that you are valued. I know that you are heard. I know that you are handsome and beautiful. I know that you are amazing human beings with something unique to offer the world. I know that you are talented. I know that you are strong. I know that you are resilient. I know that you are smart. I know that you are watched over by guardian angels. I know that you are children of a Heavenly Father who is aware of your struggles. I know that you are passionate. I know that you are interesting. I know that you are my children!
No family is perfect, and ours is no exception. We will sometimes agree, and sometimes not. We have rules that you don’t mind, and others that you hate. We have high expectations because we know your potential. We love you, and that will never change.