I’m sitting in bed watching married at first sight alone. The home is quiet and you are gone. Hurtful and powerful words were exchanged and a rage sprung up from the hate I was shown. Your words like hot spit in my face. “You cunt!” You yelled at me. “Get out of my house” you yelled. You threw the clean laundry all over the floor. I am low. I feel at a lost. Your temper is often a surprise ignited by the slightest of things but it fuels like no other destroying everything.
You said to divorce you and you say it so easily. Without care, the words spring from your mouth. They say you speak what is in your heart and my heart can’t help but wonder that’s what you desire. You do not wish for a wife but rather someone who is single. You do not wish for a family but rather someone who meets your needs. I fulfill a duty to you and when I do not, am I no longer useful to you?
Your words attack me like a swarm of bees. My throat swells and I can’t seem to breath. My heart races and my fists begin to fly batting away the tiny stings that can ultimately make me die, but no matter how hard I swing the stings keep coming. No matter how hard I swat I am consumed by their powerful rage. I begin to sink into an internal hole. Feeling swallowed by pain and sadness. I fear this hole will only grow and escaping it will only grow more inevitable.
How do you speak to me so callously? How do you act so brazenly? How are you okay with seeing your daughter witness her mother this way? You say you want children but you barely take care of more than yourself.
You are overwhelmed by life, too engulfed in your own desires to pay attention to the child you call yours. You do what you need and you only extend your reach beyond that on occasion. You are quick to give correction. Slow to give affection or praise. You hide behind your strictness as though that’s all a child should see. Let her be. Show her you care. There is more to life than rules upon rules.
And me? I think back to me walking down the aisle to you and holding your hand. Now my calls are unanswered and your words give me whiplash. One minute, I’m the best, you’re so grateful and thankful for me. The next minute, my soul should burn in hell for eternity.
I feel so guilty for bringing my daughter into this world to be met with so much opposition and frustration. She deserves better than this. She deserves the world. I wish I could give her a life without fighting. A life full of love. One worth writing about.
I wish I could give her a marriage to admire and show her what a passion to desire looks like. How your love should be kind and caring and treat you with respect. How you should honor your marriage and forgive and forget. I feel so guilty that she won’t learn that from me or from us. She will remember the fights, the fear, the numbness, the screams. She will remember the words you hurdled at me as though I meant absolutely nothing at all. She will remember the pain and sorrow of a love that seems lost and confused.
Times like this I question If I should stay or if I should go? Who would care for my sweet daughter if I were to die? Who would care that I was gone?
I know I would be missed but my memory would fade slowly like a gentle kiss. The pressure is strong but lightens as you pull away. Not much of a memory, gone after about a day. More of something that the tide washes away. Here lays she, she was a mom, a graduate, a wife, a homeowner, and owned a couple pets. She had great dreams but was a bit of a fret. She had a bright spirit but her light seemed to have dimmed. It got knocked out somewhere in between them.
A light that used to show bright but now scattered about. A light that could use a new bulb or just be put out. I am no one special. I am no one great. I have a bunch of dreams that I wish I could just make. But somehow I sit here and stare at the screen thinking that someday to someone this will just be a dream. I had a dream last night in fact that I was sitting in my car and I was drowning. I was a passenger and the car had gone over somehow, the water came in fast but I knew what to do. As scary as that dream was, nothing seems to hit harder than being alone in a house that you two bought together.
Sometimes I feel like being alone with me is the worst thing for him because he always rejects me or makes me feel less then. No not tonight, I’m really tired, I just want to relax. The rejection never stopped I just stopped writing about it. I told myself it’s not a big deal, it doesn’t matter, but the pain and the shame hurts and that’s all that seems to matter.
It’s 10:34pm and you won’t answer my call. Should I be worried or just not care at all. You have left before but never by car. You have walked out that door but I don’t know if you’ll be back. Will you be alive or dead I can’t say. Your anger opened the door and when it does I’m always surprised by what you say.
I’m sad. I’m hurting. I’m sad. I feel fine. I shed a few tears. Is it my time to die? I don’t feel suicidal but the timing feels right. To swallow a bunch of pills and end the night.
But I think of my sweet angel laying in her bed. She wouldn’t deserve to find her mother dead.
Or worse, both parents have had enough and they ended their lives and left one to suffer.
I couldn’t forsake her and leave her behind. Her life is more precious than mine.
I hope in time this pain and suffering will pass. I hope in time I can call this the past, but for now it’s my present and the pain is not a gift I wish to share with anyone.
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