I haven't written in awhile. I don't know if it is because I like keeping my feelings bottled up, or if it is just that I have been so overwhelmingly busy, oh wait, I remember, the day that I decided to share this blog with my then boyfriend, now husband, and he freaked out, telling me that I only write bad things about him, and I share them with ALL of my friends, because OBVIOUSLY I write this blog in the first person.
Post from Anonymous-
I can do this. I can hold my head up and pretend that nothing bothers me. I have lived my whole life this way. I can pretend that everything is perfect, I can keep a smile on my face despite the fact that I am dying inside. I can do it. I just don't want to.
I have explained numerous times to this man that I love with every part of me everything I have written in my past posts. That I don't feel loved, I don't feel wanted. Here we are sitting on the edge of 3 years together, over a year of that time married. Married ha. A marriage build on materialistic bullshit and LIES to get me there. Empty promises and false hopes. Sign me up. I trust you. He cried on our wedding day. We said our vows, we were actually married. That night he got so drunk that I had to carry him into our home and lay him on the couch. He was so heavy and lifeless. He got what he wanted. A big party, with all of his friends. Afterwards at the bar. Someone to take care of him, drive him home, carry him in, undress him and not make a big fuss in the morning because our marriage would remain unconsummated for days after. Bite your tongue. This is your husband. Things will get better. But they don't.
Things remain constant. Things remain the same if not worse than they were in our earlier months, our earlier years, only now our life has much more added stress. But it is all my stress. I got this. Don't worry, you just keep doing you and I will keep doing everything for everyone, including you.
I am tired. I am broken. Most days I don't want to fight for this marriage because I am obviously fighting alone.
It is Thanksgiving Night. Well I guess it is passed that now. It is 12:10am on November 28, 2014. My husband has been drinking beer since 10am on Thanksgiving. On Monday, my mother was involuntarily admitted into a psychiatric hospital. Last week my son who is now 10, was admitted into a psychiatric hospital, and tonight I feel the weight of it all hitting me. I don't like to be treated poorly just because my husband has an alcohol problem. I have a lot of things going on in my world that I deal with by myself to add "drunken asshole husband" to the list of things that I have to worry about.
I just want him to get it, although after almost 3 years, he still has not.
Random update- I have not spoken to 17 (now 20) in almost 2 years. I am however aware that he is incarcerated on charges that have nothing to do with his previous offense.
15 (now 18) is living across town from me with his girlfriend in their own apartment.
12 (now almost 15) is living at home with me and doing very well, with the exception of some distraught attitudes and sadness that have been brought on by the same things that cause me to fight, flight or freeze.
8 (who is now almost 11) is still living with his dad. Aside from his last hospital visit, things seem to be going okay for him, he now takes 3 medications, and they seem to have regulated his mood quite nicely. He is doing well, for now. Hopefully it continues.
My husband's children have also moved in with us. I love them both dearly and I treat them as my own even though the tables are not turned that way for my children. Even today his son asked him why he has he and his brothers names tattooed on his forearms and my husband responded, because I only have 2 kids. That's funny, because I have SIX. Oh well.
He is currently passed out in our bed. He stumbled down the stairs after passing out on the couch upstairs, and passed me without saying a word and went to bed. Fine. I am so used to it, but it doesn't stop the emptiness from pulsing through every part of my body.
