Agony

I feel like I’ve used this title before lol

I found out or rather confirmed that next year my birthday falls on a major holiday, Thanksgiving. It’s exciting cause it only happens once every 7 years. However, this year as my birthday approached I was made to feel as though I didn’t matter by my husband. He became upset about the thought of my wanting to celebrate my birthday that he basically cursed me out and told me to spend it along with Christmas separate from him. It was very painful to experience that and makes me feel anxious about my birthday now landing on a holiday. So, I decided to bring it up hoping he would actually say something to show that my birthday was important to him and not some sort of inconvenience. Well, I was wrong. He became heated and threatened to cancel Christmas. Meanwhile, I’m told that I can’t put a Christmas tree in our (my) daughter’s room. The nerve of him. I was anxious to even bring it up but I didn’t want to wait and be met with hurt feeling around the holidays next year but yet here we are. I don’t understand why he gets so aggressive about the holidays but ever since I met him I have never felt like what I want to do fits into how he feels things need to be or have to be. And that’s been a message I get from his family too. Like i ruin things. I should scoot over cause what I want isn’t as important as what other people want. It’s honestly bullshit. I just want to feel loved and cherished and told that yes, you can do whatever you want on your birthday…at least give me the chance to say that I happen to actually love Thanksgiving and maybe I do still want to celebrate it on my birthday but rather I’m told that I have to wait and see what other people are doing on Thanksgiving first. It’s so messed up..so yeah now we are “fighting”..I was told to stop talking to him and receievd a lovely “Fuck You!” which is obviously exactly how I was hoping to end my night.

Also, told I need to meet with a new therapist to get help as to why I even care so much about what day my birthday lands on. 🙃

So that’s a lovely cherry on top. You would think having the background I do that I would have ended up with the greatest husband ever but somehow at times I feel like I am trapped in a torterous nightmare of constant criticism and belittleling.

Unseen

Do you ever feel invisble?

I do.

At least today I do.

Like I could slip away and no one would notice.

I think about how warm and fuzzy but also cold my body would be as I slowly bleed out.

What thoughts would cross my mind?

Would I be at peace?

Or if I swallowed a handfulof pills. Would I go gently like a sway to sleep?

I thought this was gonna be my year but all I can think about is escaping this life.

Maybe breaking my neck or hanging myself. I just want it to stop.

I thought I was done sitting in these feelings.

I tried so hard.

So hard to be happy and to make it work.

But I’m tired of failing.

Tired of trying.

I just want to rest.

I just want to be seen and heard.

No one listens to me.

I’m invisible.

Even when I am seen it’s just for a moment and even when I am heard people pick and choose what they hear.

The silence is torture.

The pain is unavoidable.

Everything feels so heavy.

My world is coming to an end.

I just want to be seen.

I just want to be loved.

I just want to be heard.

People come and go but they always seem to know how to hurt you when they do.

People toss you aside like you’ve meant nothing to you. People like former friends, lovers, parents.

If life has taught me anything it’s too expect disappointment.

Expect hurt.

Expect to be unseen.

Stranger

I can’t say I know you anymore.

The silence.

No goodbye this morning.

The apathy towards me.

What sin have I executed upon you to deserve such cruelty?

Because I pointed out that you didn’t hug “our” daughter yesterday..that when she attempted to hug you, you pushed her away?

Because I revealed something to you that you’d rather not acknowledge.

Your words seaped from your mouth like the poison it drenches over my being.

This sickness is nothing I wish to be apart of.

A part from you I find joy and happiness.

A part from you I am recognizing myself again.

The woman who deserves to be loved and cherished.

From the depths of your soul, you spew a hate that laps at me uncontrollable.

I dare not fathom what could become of such an unleashed animal.

Ruled by the devil himself with your glaring looks, not even a word is uttered in my direction.

If it’s a performance you are seeking, I will present you with an oscar worthy one.

I’m so glad to have celebrated one year of marriage to see it all blow up like this.

If there was ever a clearer tale of who you truly are.

Seeing you now is like seeing a stranger.

A sad feeling

A sad feeling

Back again

Why is it so hard to communicate?

Why is it so hard to express that I need more from you at times?

Why does my heart feel heavy?

Maybe I should stop doing all that I do.

But would it get done?

I’m not perfect.

I have my moments of insecurities.

It shouldn’t come back to this.

This feeling of sadness, emptiness, abandonment.

I wanted you close but I somehow pushed you away.

I just needed you. I don’t know why but I did.

I’m sorry I’m so messed up for needing you.

I love you.

You don’t know what it’s like to be me.

To have your brain never turn off.

I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.

How can I make it better?

I can’t!

I won’t!

It won’t be better because of me.

What’s the price for this feeling?

Loneliness I suppose

Lost

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.

Nasty Gal

I can be a lot to handle at times.

I can be sarcastic, rude, mean, and hateful.

I can transform into your biggest nightmare if you push the right buttons.

Last night, I made a mistake.

I dumped water on my boyfriend after he yelled at me for asking him how he was doing.

I told him I hate him.

I don’t think I can say I love him anymore because my heart is growing callous.

I’m holding onto all of his wrongs and I don’t know how to let any of them go.

I hurting and angry.

I’m in love and over the moon.

I can transform into someone I don’t recognize but someone who feels so familiar.

Who am I?

How did I get this way?

Who hurt me so badly that I act out?

I’m in a dance playing both the villian and the victim.

Help me!

Care for me.

Love me.

Be with me.

Use me.

Take advantage of me.

Hold me.

Speak to me sweetly

Mistreat me.

Hate me.

There’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t do worse.

What can I say, I’m a nasty gal just running the course.

Shameful Secrets

Is there shame in your secrets? I know there is in mine. Shame over the want to be desired.

Fantasys can help or hinder. In my case I feel caught in the middle. I fantasize about the forbidden sexual encounters that I am never meant to have. I fantasy about being forced into being pleasured and solely having the focus on me. These thoughts make for desires that are left unfulfilled in my current relationship. As I grow more in my relationship, I find my desires being met in many non-sexual ways. I feel cared for and loved similar to that of a close friend, but my needs for sexual intimacy are left unquenched. It’s hard to be a woman and have this conversation. When I became a woman I had this impression that men want sex ALL the time. My previous relationships attested to that. Now, I am with someone who doesn’t want sex all the time nor even regularly. We have sex a handful of times a month. Probably 5 times a month at most. Out of those 5 times, 3 of them I am either unsatisfied or left to satisfy my own desires. I have grown to have a love/hate relationship with my own physical touch. I feel as though I touch myself out of anger and frustration. I’m disheartened once again I’m left to fend for myself. I feel immense shame and guilt afterwards. If sex is to be a gift from God why is only one person receiving it in this relationship. Why can’t I enjoy the gift of a fully satisfying sexual response? I attempt to bring this to the attention of my partner but the words fall onto death ears. I feel silenced in my own pain. In my own story that I created. I feel as though I am to blame. I was too eager to embrace what felt like generous love and positivity. I was mistaken for now I feel trapped in a relationship that encompasses deep self pity and loneliness felt in the presence of him. Priorities are his phone, job, mom, and friends. I wonder where I fall in the mess of it all.

Define It

Tension.

A tight uncomfortable feeling that no one wants to address.

Misery.

A loathing pain that writhes at the soul with no resolution in sight.

Heartache.

A looming disappointment over what you failed to see before it was too late.

Suffering.

Knowing that you may never feel the way you desire and slowly accepting it as reality because you feel too far gone for change.

Sadness.

A deep appreciation for the lost things in life.

Touch.

A sense of love one must give themselves when the other has none for them.

Pity.

A deep pitted feeling of self-hate.

Sorrow.

A wound only time will slowly heal and the presence of the pain will only cause it to peel.

Alone.

How I wish it was…Again.

 

No words

Maybe we aren’t compatible. We are operating on different wave lengths. You like things your way and I like things my way. We seem to struggle to meet in the middle. And when it comes to our sex life. It’s a disaster. Physical intimacy isn’t the best between us. Our drives are opposite. Sometimes you do a lot of foreplay but don’t want to have sex, and other times when you do want to have sex there is absolutely no foreplay. You don’t like cuddling in bed but would rather me lay on top of you on the couch. You complain about your mom hearing us but insist that she continue to live with us. You don’t want me to touch you below the waist without you wanting to have sex. You don’t even give me the opportunity to touch on you because you say, “I know what you’re trying to do”. As though my desire for sex is unfounded. I don’t even get a chance to be intimate with you unless it leads to sex but yet I have to be open to being felt up without any resolution to my pent up sexual frustration. There are times we have sex and you cum and I don’t and you say you’ll get me that night or tomorrow. Days will pass by and still nothing. I’m no supposed to desire a release to my sexual frustration. You always have the best excuses. You’re too tired. It’s not a good time. You’re too hot or don’t want me on you. You’re mom might hear. It’s too warm inside. We just had sex a few days ago. You’re stressed. You’re depressed. You have a lot on your mind. I’m not feeling well. The list goes on. You have more reasons to not have sex than to have sex. And when we do have sex it’s short. You barely let me touch on you before you’re pushing my head down. I’m always on top and you usually come first and then stop completely. If I didn’t come by that point it’s on me to finish it off. You’re touch is gone at this point. You either have to leave the room, use the bathroom, don’t want me on you, or request that I not lay so close to you. I feel like I’m so dirty girl being used for sex. My physical needs don’t matter. If you do focus on them you ensure that you stop before I get off. You tease me and then complain that I want sex. It’s so confusing and heart breaking. I find myself asking if we can have sex hours ahead of time just to avoid being rejeceted when I try. You literally push me off of you and get upset when I try to hold onto you. You’ve told me that you don’t like it when I try to touch you on your legs or chest. You are only willing to be touch on your terms and you ensure I don’t touch you when you don’t want it by holding my hands in place or forcefully pushing them away. You say that you’ve never had any trauma that would cause this reaction and that it’s other reasons but I can’t help but feel in the wrong. I have to ask for a hug and kiss every night and you complain that you just gave me a kiss. My wants are met with complaints and rejection. I try to be okay with not having my needs met but I grow frustrated and hurt. I try communicating my desires, wants, and needs to you but they are met with anger and loud tones. How much longer should I continue like this? I can’t help but wonder if we should keep together. I never would have imaged that my needs for love and intimacy would ignite such strong feelings of rejection, anger, and frustration in you. I’m only 27 and I feel like my best days if sexual intimacy are behind. You shame me for wanting to be sexual or having desires. I can’t help but wonder what years of this could do to a person. We haven’t even been together a year and I question if I could endure being married like this. I don’t wanna feel unwanted or only needed for sex. I want to be held and cuddled. I have hard days too and receiving a hug would be great for my mental state, but I hate having to ask or worse being hugged and told alright or that was long enough or that’s enough. It’s so frustrating and it hurts my feelings. I don’t want to be intimate and then rejected. Having your arm around me isn’t the same as being held. There’s a difference. And we always argue right before I have something going on the next day. I hate it. I feel so sad and depressed. You shut me out. You have no words for me. I hate myself for needing to ask for intimacy. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to show me love in the ways I desire it.

Public

Has thought of making something public ever turned your stomach? I know it has to mine. Strange for someone who runs a public blog right? Not so much, in the sense that I don’t share my blog with anyone I know personally. I love the thought of my thoughts entering the world as anonymous. I always teeter between revealing my identity and staying incognito, and to be completely honest I’ve done both. If you’ve followed for long enough than you’ve been there for picture reveals, name updates, etc., and you’ve seen it all wash away under the surface. It’s the thought of my thoughts being connected to me and someone knowing that they are seeing the inner bearings of my soul is what is scary and slightly confining. Sometimes I feel as though words are trapped within me. Especially after experiencing such a traumatic event(s) a couple years ago. It’s not that I am storing little secrets within myself that I want absolutely no one to know until the day I die and then so… It’s just that I’ve let some things out and then feel like a little crab who has to withdraw deep into their shell to find some comfort among the words that have just spilled out everywhere. Clean up on Aisle 5 or what?? It’s not word vomit but seeing yourself on the other end of what you have to say isn’t always pretty. It’s like attaching a label of pain, grief, heartache etc onto an experience you’re not sure you’re ready to sit down and dissect. I think to be completely honest this is the first time I’ve ever been able to get this far in voicing how I feel about voicing how I feel. Can you taste the Irony?

I suppose it’s more so that I carry a series of unfortunate fears around with me. And no that’s not a un-clever rip off of that children’s series…. Anyways! I have these fears and they eat away at my words so much so they often go unspoken or when they do come out it’s like seeing partially baked cookies. You can tell that the effort was there and you can see what was trying to be accomplished but when you pick it up it’s all mush. That’s me! The mush!! Okay, maybe not 100% but it feels like it sometimes. Like I’m still that awkward 6th grader wearing her mom’s old bras to school and everyone seeing my nips! Yea! That happened, and I’m still not over it! But seriously, I choke on my words in front of cute guys and literally avoid them at all costs. I’m the awkward cute girl in ALL of the romantic comedies that you’ve ever seen, but I strangely have no problem talking to guys I would never date! Like why am I cursed??

So, somehow this got off on the wrong tangent. Welcome to my brain! Please exit to your, oh look ponies! Yea! You’re kind of stuck in here with me forever. But don’t worry I am a great conversationalist (how silly and cliché would it be to put a LOL here…oops just did it). But for real, I have some heavy baggage that even I’m not trying to pick up at the baggage claim. Which is how we circle back to me feeling like I will be single forever. I wish I could just dig a very deep hole and throw all of my fears, anger, tears, heartache, pain, humiliation, and every other negative thing into it and cover it up for good. I guess that’s healthy right? It just feels like the closet of inescapable feelings is getting a little packed and this stuff has got to go somewhere. It’s like what happened with my ex silenced me, and I wonder what it would be like to just speak. I wonder what free expression would entail.

I think that’s where my love for moving comes from. Once people start to figure me out I get the urge to pick up and move. It’s almost like I’m on the run but I can’t seem to escape myself. Cue the metaphor about death and there you have it perfectly summed up.

Yep, I didn’t give you too much to work with there.. we’ll try this again another time.