I don't want to be. I fight against being. I want to be open. Caring. Who I am. But this is a hard time. Husband will be around more. And I can barely stand it. The tension is hurting me. No place to cry. No place to hide under a pillow. I feel overwhelmed by the emotions....and having to just keep on moving. Keep on doing what I do. He doesn't even get it. I would do just as well to talk to a ghost. He doesn't hear. He doesn't see the panic in my face when "it" begins. Or, if he does, it doesn't stop him. I wish that he would get transferred to another newspaper within the company. Need to go live there. I am not being nice, I know. Venting. Wanting to cry but no place. Wanting to sleep but no place. Wanting to escape but no place.
He has always known that...known that I have nowhere to go. He found it amusing. Nowhere to go home to. Nobody to jump in and protect. Nobody to tell him to quit being a jackass. Nobody to tell me that they like me best.
I know....wallowing. Pretty much. But, I'll do it now and get on with life. Because, I do not want to be "closed for the season." I don't want him to determine how I feel and how heavy my heart is....or light. I want to be free. I want to breathe.
I sit at the table with him. I tremble. I speak politely. I smile. He prays for the food. Acts as if he is the spiritual leader of a family he has never led. Ever. He moans. Whines. Complains. But he has never led. Never done for us....does for himself.
I don't think there is enough space for me to say today how deeply I am wounded. How my soul longs to be released. To be "allowed" to love and be loved in return.
Someone invited the fam to a great night at their house today. And my first response was panic. Someone that I love. Who knows me. Who sees me. She let me off the hook. Let me think about it. But, I absolutely hate the fact that my life is reduced to that. I just want to curl up and rest. Don't have the energy to "run away". Don't have the energy to make my house how I want it.
Don't have the strength to fight the battle to do the "projects" I want to do. Give me paintbrushes and sandpaper....a drop cloth and a cute piece of furniture and I find some healing. Or a project for my friend's business. I have to remind myself that it's hers to do. I like the work. Like the purpose. But, it's her thing. I'm just a tag along. Don't get the idea that she's not nice about it....she totally is. Just not mine to plan for. So, really, it's still just dabbling. Playing.
Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Yes, he's gone to work for the moment, but I know he's coming back soon. Maybe a year or so would be good. Emphasis on the or so.
Gotta go. Kid in room
grace to you.
He has always known that...known that I have nowhere to go. He found it amusing. Nowhere to go home to. Nobody to jump in and protect. Nobody to tell him to quit being a jackass. Nobody to tell me that they like me best.
I know....wallowing. Pretty much. But, I'll do it now and get on with life. Because, I do not want to be "closed for the season." I don't want him to determine how I feel and how heavy my heart is....or light. I want to be free. I want to breathe.
I sit at the table with him. I tremble. I speak politely. I smile. He prays for the food. Acts as if he is the spiritual leader of a family he has never led. Ever. He moans. Whines. Complains. But he has never led. Never done for us....does for himself.
I don't think there is enough space for me to say today how deeply I am wounded. How my soul longs to be released. To be "allowed" to love and be loved in return.
Someone invited the fam to a great night at their house today. And my first response was panic. Someone that I love. Who knows me. Who sees me. She let me off the hook. Let me think about it. But, I absolutely hate the fact that my life is reduced to that. I just want to curl up and rest. Don't have the energy to "run away". Don't have the energy to make my house how I want it.
Don't have the strength to fight the battle to do the "projects" I want to do. Give me paintbrushes and sandpaper....a drop cloth and a cute piece of furniture and I find some healing. Or a project for my friend's business. I have to remind myself that it's hers to do. I like the work. Like the purpose. But, it's her thing. I'm just a tag along. Don't get the idea that she's not nice about it....she totally is. Just not mine to plan for. So, really, it's still just dabbling. Playing.
Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Yes, he's gone to work for the moment, but I know he's coming back soon. Maybe a year or so would be good. Emphasis on the or so.
Gotta go. Kid in room
grace to you.
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