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Attempting to Live for Them

"I'm not crazy. My reality is just different than yours."

Month

December 2016

Life is changing…

So it looks as if this terrible year is coming to a close. There aren’t too many good points to this year that involve me directly. Only bad things happened to me this year, worse than previous years. I’ve been raped, abused, among other things, and it’s sad to say, this is my worst year to date. Ugh.

I can’t forgive the powers that be. I know they hate me. They look down on me and see me as the joke, the pawn to use as they please to make others lives easier while makin mine harder and harder to manage. I hate hearing the religious phrases “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” or “These hard times are just a test. God has something great in store for you.” Those make me feel worse because I know in my heart that those are bull crap.

I don’t know what 2017 holds, but hopefully it doesn’t involve anymore accidents or physical harm. I hope it doesn’t include more misery and struggle than I’ve come in contact with already. I NEED this to be a good year.

Struggling.

I’ve always seemed to struggle with my weight in some way or another. When I was younger, I took to not eating lunch (never went to the cafeteria), and I forced myself to go run whenever I possibly could. I remember when I became self conscious about it-my uncle made me very aware about how much weight I’d gained because of a burger I was eating. I will never forget that.

I was doing fairly well with keeping my weight under control, until I got pregnant. That turned my world upside down because I was forced to become (what I felt) grotesquely fat. I walked everyday and watched what I ate to gain the bare minimum of pregnancy weight, but my doctor made the comment that I was underweight and needed to gain more. Who says that?!

It was an icy uphill battle from then on because there were more pregnancies after that; my mental state was becoming more prominent; my depression was more severe; and I was taking less care of myself because I had other responsibilities.My peak weight was with my final pregnancy, and I had never felt more like a whale. People constantly made comments about my size from me carrying twins to having an extremely giant child. No…I was just fat.

Now…I can’t seem to lose weight. I can’t control the snacking/grazing. I can’t control my porion sizes. I have zero support. I can’t go on a simple walk or run without it becoming an argument. Why even try?

To digress for a moment. I think the only reason my husband says he “loves the way I look” is because no one looks at a fat person. No one will try to talk to or sleep with a fat person. I can’t feel good about myself as a fat person. So he keeps me at my lowest so no one can definitely have me. Those are my thoughts on it. Because when I cheated, my medicine was working pretty okay (not great), and I was fitting in cute clothes and looked good naked. He didn’t like that.

Back to my point. I can’t find motivation to stay on track. I have a little journal that I keep tips and meal plans and exercise plans I find doable in. I don’t have a friend to do this with or an accountability partner. It’s just me attempting to do all of this alone, and I am being pushed further and further away from my goal. 

I am to a point where I’m going to just start starving myself, no questions asked, again. Just eat one small meal like I used to and be done. It seemed to work back then. Why wouldn’t it work now?

Something.

I never thought I’d be where I am today. Broken, alone in a marriage I never wanted, a mom [which I wouldn’t change], a broken mind, and feeling more like a failure than ever before. How did I fall this far off track from the goals I set for myself?

Growing up, I wanted to finish college; be a surgeon; become a part of doctors without borders; travel the world as a writer/artist in my free time; live in Japan for a while. But, alas, I am stuck in the state I’ve been in my whole life, with half a college education (that I certainly can’t afford to finish), and a job I love but isn’t my dream. I once had high hopes for myself, but now I struggle just to stay alive day-to-day.

My husband doesn’t understand what I go through day in and day out. He doesn’t feel the pain, nor does he hear the horrid noise and torture that has plagued me for years. I doubt he’s ever been ambitious, and he lives blissfully unaware of how miserable I really am within the confines of my own home, if I can even call it that anymore.

I dream of one day, at least, being able to havING enough energy and drive to do the things I once loved. I want that be able to read a book cover to cover again, rather than read some and let the rest sit for months because I can’t focus on it. I want inspiration to draw and be without worry that someone will ruin it. I want to be able to enjoy being outside and maybe going on a hike or a run again (once I get into shape). These are the things I lost within myself.

I’m merely a shell of who I used to be with echoes of anger and depression, psychotic and morbid thoughts. What kind of monster have I become?

Just writing.

I feel like a prisoner in my own home. My husband is a controlling, emotionally/verbally abusive human being with no real filter or reapect in day-to-day life either. I don’t call him a man because my definition of a “man” doesn’t treat anyone the way he treats me, the kids, or anyone around him (or within earshot).

As I’ve previously written about, I don’t get respect or even the basic of care in this relationship (if you can call it that because you definitely cannot call it a marriage). I don’t get any mental stimulation. I’m constantly talked over, to the point where I don’t discuss things with him anymore. He is just a brute with no real care for anyone else.

The voices in my head despise him. They make threats upon his life constantly, and when he talks, they screech louder and scream at him and yell at me for even being with him. When he makes backhanded comments, I don’t care what happens to him because I’m a firm believer in karma. 

Any deep caring feelings for him have waned, so I’m more or less going through the motions in this life with him. If I have to be stuck with him, and walk on eggshells, why try any harder than I have to? I get nothing out of it…or him.

He’ll tell people all day long that he loves me, but in reality, he loves the idea of me…and he loves even more that I do EVERYTHING for him. He is a lazy lump. Yes, I said it! He does practically nothing. Stays at home, but he is in no way a homemaker, more of a home avoider. If it’s work within the house, it will most likely be overlooked.

I hate admitting all of this, but I am exhausted. I am exhausted of all of this. Between my shattered mind and the constant struggle through life, I don’t want to tolerate his bullshit anymore.

Autumn.

I love the cool, crisp weather Autumn brings. I love the color change, even though it represents the start of death, but the beginning of this is beautiful.

I don’t enjoy the craze of pumpkin spice that seems to flood the market as soon as the first day of Fall is upon us. It makes zero sense. It’s become so ridiculous, this that should’ve never been pumpkin spiced are, in fact, flavored that way. Ugh.

Either way, cozy sweaters can come out. Comfortable weather begins. You can break out the wonderful hot tea and coffees (at least I don’t drink hot tea or coffee in the warmer months) that tantalize the senses. Boots are more comfortable to wear, whether fuzzy or otherwise. Blankets and cuddling are welcome, if that’s your thing.

It’s just a gorgeous season that you can drive for hours at the slowest speed on the scenic route for hours without a care in the world. You can’t really do that at any other time. Spring brings allergies and rain (usually); Summer burns everything off (normally), and it’s way too hot; and Winter…pfft, just forget it. There’s nothing better than Autumn! 

My Past?

My past is not squeaky clean by any means. But then again, whose is? Not everyone has cheated on their significant other, but I have. I’m not afraid to say it anymore. Yes, I am a wee bit ashamed of it, but it happened.

In my marriage I feel neglected, disrespected, disconnected, unloved, and literally every other reason imaginable. I desire closeness, intimacy, and friendship. Someone I can rely not only for my needs but my wants. And when I had my affairs, I was given that. Now, I am back where I started-alone and dejected.

My husband was heartbroken when he found out, but it was necessary nonetheless. But the falling out we had was violent and brutal, and I wanted to separate from him on many occasions; but he wouldn’t let it happen. Seriously, he wouldn’t let our marriage dissolve. I could understand his anger, but he refused to see, from my side, why everything happened. He still doesn’t.

Now, I can’t say that the urge doesn’t still hit me to find someone to attach to. To be with, if only, for a short time. I don’t know how it would work out with since I’m so limited and broken. Not only does breaking my husband’s heart stop me, but also the fact of trusting someone else enough to go that far with…again. And I also get bored easily. That is very sad to say out loud.

I want to apologize to him for my wandering thoughts, but he doesn’t make it easy. He doesn’t make me want to stay faithful any more than I have to. As much as I don’t want to say that, I am. Sigh 

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