"It's all on you honey, its all on you".
"Mom, I can't keep doing this. I can't carry the weight of it all."
"You don't have another choice, you have to."
A few tears fell from my eyes.
Then I shrugged it off and decided I'd get the girls out of the house for a few hours.
We saw Kung Fu Panda 3, and I fell asleep about 20 minutes in.
"Mom, your snoring, wake up!"
My Dad decided he was going to tear up the backyard and get rid of a lot of the bushes because Kevin won't keep up with the yard. I hated those damn bougainvilleas anyways. Yet, the pink flowers were pretty things to look at. They made the backyard glow a bit.
I'm learning to live without pretty things. I'm learning the ugliness of life.
I'm learning what happens when you allow yourself to be influenced by the negative things in this world.
And I'm not completely the one at fault. No he is responsible too.
I want a man, I want a man who goes to work, makes money, and comes home and doesn't say ouch with every move he makes. I want a man who gets the kids off to school on his day off and then takes an hour and trims the backyard bushes that need trimmed. Then he comes inside and takes a shower rather than sitting in nasty sweaty clothes for the rest of the day. I work on my days off. I do laundry, clean, do my homework, grocery shop, run errands, etc. I don't have a day off where I just sit in between playing with my tablet.
I know this is horrible of me, but I am just over it. I am just over his uncleanliness. Over wearing the same pajama pants every night for two fucking weeks straight until I finally go in and wash them when he isn't around. It fucking smells. And they are in my closet. I'm tired of him refusing to let me get him a set of drawers and his clothes in fucking dirty laundry baskets in my closet so that I have no room to hang up any clothes. I'm tired of the mountain of fucking DVDs in our closet.
I am tired of the ouch and the ugh's every time he moves. God forgive me. God forgive me. I am a horrible person. And I know I'm fat. I know I over eat. But I never smell, well sometimes I do and its become an issue because I see myself becoming like him. Giving up. I am watching myself give up.
I am watching myself give up.
I am a fucking 36 year old woman who's Mom and Dad have to come over and fucking trim our bushes! My Dad is 65 and is coming over to hang bulletin boards in the girls rooms. He can't do that. I'd have to hear how much his back hurts afterwards. Then he would sit with his tablet and fall asleep in the chair. I am fucking tired of living with this old man.
He's only 52, but he is less active than my 65 year old Dad. Less active than my Mother who is a diabetic, hypertensive, and has had triple bypass.
I am fucking done.
I want a man who kisses me, who doesn't hug me and wince.
I thought while writing this I'd be balling my eyes out. Truth is, I haven't shed one tear. Why? Because I am done. I am not in love anymore. Haven't been for a long time now. What I am is disgusted.
He disgusts me.
Hate me, hate me. I don't care. I don't care anymore. He chose to give up. He chose to alienate me. I put on my big girl panties and dealt. You can't even trim a fucking bush!
I am so sorry. I am sorry that this is the way it is.
I've asked you to come with me. To find joy in life again. But you won't. You can't see past anything. You cannot see past your own selfish needs. You won't work through the pain, and when you do, you do it with such disdain and vinegar that its miserable.
Our daughters are miserable. They don't want to be with you because you don't do anything with them. You don't actively participate in something with them. Watching TV with them is not being with them. They want you to play with them. They want you to love them. They don't want to hear you complain that your back hurts.
I am so sorry. But this is the truth.