He came home..
I cry. I keep crying. I can't help it. I want to die. I am all alone in this world right now. I am alone in my marriage. My kids hate me. The guy I am married to treats me like shit. My aunt is a bitch. My parents have too many of their own problems for me to confide in/talk to them. My sister has her own life now. My brothers aren't ever around. Other relatives... yeah, they're busy too.
I just want to wish myself into nonexistence. I hate to say it, but I don't care about anything anymore. I sat in the bath crying to myself. The rejection is too much for me to handle. Josh doesn't help. He's playing video games as I sit here and pour my heart into this journal entry.
I had to get out of the tub, because I knew if I had stayed in there any longer, I would have submerged myself into that hot water and tried to stay there, at the bottom of the tub, until my lifeless body would float up a few inches to the surface... in the hopes someone would find me in the morning.
I am completely miserable. I am nothing more than an housewife. I was an intellectual with a high IQ and a level head. I had dreams, hopes and aspirations. I was motivated. I thought better of myself, physically and emotionally. Life sucks. Home sucks. I am nothing. I do nothing. Or so some poeple seem to think.
My days are strewn with screaming babies, piles of laundry that never end, cleaning and recleaning messes that recur. Dirty diapers, hangers, clothes, toys and everything else haunt me.
If I want affection, I am supposed to make a move. I am too goddamn tired. But he whines and bitches about how he needs a massage, or his dick sucked. And I just think, when wa the last time you did something really nice for me. Not buy me something or take me somewhere, but really help me vent, or de-stress???
I don't do anyhting for him anymore by way of taking initiative. Becasue I am a mom, I don't get a break, and other stupid ass comments he makes to me. We have talked about how he can't seem to keep his mouth shut, or he doesn't think before he says or does things.... this not only applies at work, but home too. Apparently, he doesn't care enough to apply this thinking to the life he has here at home.
He doesn't ask me why I am suicidal. He just tells me things, like you have to reschedule your doctors appointment again.
You know what?! I NEED to go to that doctor. That doctor still thinks I have cancer. I need to know. My fucking life is on the goddamn line here and you don't care, just need to go to your doctor appointment instead, cause your throat hurts.
You break my heart. When I try to talk to you about things, like when I said, Josh, you treat me like shit... you come back with... "you treat ME like shit". and "I'm tired of how you treat me"... You keep making threats like, if you leave, I know I'll get custody of the kids.. WHY?? Cause you have a job and I spend my waking hours, taking care of those kids? You can't babysit one of them for a few minutes, let alone have full custody of them. You don't really care about my feelings or wellbeing. You just seem to want to hurt me and not make anything better.
I tell you that I love you hundreds of times in a day. But you say it back about 1% of the time, or so it seems. You can't hug me, you just pat me on the back and push me away, like I am not good enough to be in your grasp. You don't kiss me anymore unless it is a peck. We danced together one time in our whole relationship. You were ashamed to hold hands with me in public, let alone anywhere around your parents, before we were married, even though, we were VERY pregnant with Blake.
YOu were not there for me when I was in the hospital having ourkids, either time. You visited, but bitched and complained your way out of having to actually stay there with me. I still think you've cheated on me. You say no, but you still have no honest explanation of where you were or why you were by that fucking massage parlor again. You made mother's day dinner for your mom, but didn't include me in on anyhting until the last moment when I cried bout being not appreciated. All you said was, "You're not MY mother"... no asshole, I'm just the mother of YOUR kids. Who, you still screw with my head and say they are not yours because they don't look like you. Well.. Blake is your fucking mirror image, and Taylor looks like me. And our 2 boys and you all have the same fucking birthmark on the back of your heads, under your hair. You say I am a liar... you know what... yeah. I Have lied to you, but never about something trivial. It was always a little white lie here or there but nothing more than that.
I need to go to bed... I have to get up in an hour to feed the baby... the same baby that you won't hold or acknowledge unless I plop him in front of you, and even then its a stretch.
I just want to wish myself into nonexistence. I hate to say it, but I don't care about anything anymore. I sat in the bath crying to myself. The rejection is too much for me to handle. Josh doesn't help. He's playing video games as I sit here and pour my heart into this journal entry.
I had to get out of the tub, because I knew if I had stayed in there any longer, I would have submerged myself into that hot water and tried to stay there, at the bottom of the tub, until my lifeless body would float up a few inches to the surface... in the hopes someone would find me in the morning.
I am completely miserable. I am nothing more than an housewife. I was an intellectual with a high IQ and a level head. I had dreams, hopes and aspirations. I was motivated. I thought better of myself, physically and emotionally. Life sucks. Home sucks. I am nothing. I do nothing. Or so some poeple seem to think.
My days are strewn with screaming babies, piles of laundry that never end, cleaning and recleaning messes that recur. Dirty diapers, hangers, clothes, toys and everything else haunt me.
If I want affection, I am supposed to make a move. I am too goddamn tired. But he whines and bitches about how he needs a massage, or his dick sucked. And I just think, when wa the last time you did something really nice for me. Not buy me something or take me somewhere, but really help me vent, or de-stress???
I don't do anyhting for him anymore by way of taking initiative. Becasue I am a mom, I don't get a break, and other stupid ass comments he makes to me. We have talked about how he can't seem to keep his mouth shut, or he doesn't think before he says or does things.... this not only applies at work, but home too. Apparently, he doesn't care enough to apply this thinking to the life he has here at home.
He doesn't ask me why I am suicidal. He just tells me things, like you have to reschedule your doctors appointment again.
You know what?! I NEED to go to that doctor. That doctor still thinks I have cancer. I need to know. My fucking life is on the goddamn line here and you don't care, just need to go to your doctor appointment instead, cause your throat hurts.
You break my heart. When I try to talk to you about things, like when I said, Josh, you treat me like shit... you come back with... "you treat ME like shit". and "I'm tired of how you treat me"... You keep making threats like, if you leave, I know I'll get custody of the kids.. WHY?? Cause you have a job and I spend my waking hours, taking care of those kids? You can't babysit one of them for a few minutes, let alone have full custody of them. You don't really care about my feelings or wellbeing. You just seem to want to hurt me and not make anything better.
I tell you that I love you hundreds of times in a day. But you say it back about 1% of the time, or so it seems. You can't hug me, you just pat me on the back and push me away, like I am not good enough to be in your grasp. You don't kiss me anymore unless it is a peck. We danced together one time in our whole relationship. You were ashamed to hold hands with me in public, let alone anywhere around your parents, before we were married, even though, we were VERY pregnant with Blake.
YOu were not there for me when I was in the hospital having ourkids, either time. You visited, but bitched and complained your way out of having to actually stay there with me. I still think you've cheated on me. You say no, but you still have no honest explanation of where you were or why you were by that fucking massage parlor again. You made mother's day dinner for your mom, but didn't include me in on anyhting until the last moment when I cried bout being not appreciated. All you said was, "You're not MY mother"... no asshole, I'm just the mother of YOUR kids. Who, you still screw with my head and say they are not yours because they don't look like you. Well.. Blake is your fucking mirror image, and Taylor looks like me. And our 2 boys and you all have the same fucking birthmark on the back of your heads, under your hair. You say I am a liar... you know what... yeah. I Have lied to you, but never about something trivial. It was always a little white lie here or there but nothing more than that.
I need to go to bed... I have to get up in an hour to feed the baby... the same baby that you won't hold or acknowledge unless I plop him in front of you, and even then its a stretch.