The Emperor Has No Clothes On!!!!

I’m exhausted. Husband and child both had stressful days today and needed to express some anger. Mr. Buttons is currently singing “I’m Radioactive” in the shower. And I’m going to let him play video games when he’s done.

The husband is snoring on the couch; he gets up super early every morning and worked overtime today. My dad came to visit him at work and brought a gift for the grand kid. I took a little drive and chucked the unopened bag right out the window into a ditch.

Because I’m done. My husband agreed to tell him to leave us alone. For that, I am thankful. Because I’m tired. I wasn’t put on earth to be abused, talked down to, constantly criticized and accused of evil intentions. This is a man who beat my mommy, held me down by the throat when I was eleven, and shook my sister so hard her head snapped back and forth. He hasn’t changed, and I’m just tired. Our last visit he declared sternly, “I WILL see my grandson.” I felt so nauseous and intimidated. It’s always about what he wants. My husband told him he was the one who was going to have to eat his pride. I’ve never seen that man be humble. I’ve seen him make a play for pity.

Trouble. Drama. Lies. Games. Abuse. My only mistake was being born a feeling creature. I just can’t take it anymore. I finally collapsed. I get to choose who is allowed in my life and when. I carried that kid for nine months and underwent an emergency C-section after 18 hours of labor. HE’S FUCKING MINE. MY RESPONSIBILITY.

AND TRYING TO MOTHER WHILE BEING ROUTINELY ABUSED IS PURT-NIGH FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. Fuck him. Fuck his needs. Fuck trying to be nice and accommodating and understanding and shut down and dismissed and criticized and toyed with and bossed around. If he wants war, BRING IT. I’m so done I’m surprised. I’ve never felt this way before.

Lord Jesus, it’s a fire. If you don’t fight for me for once, who will??? I can’t take anymore. I live in constant fear. I feel like I’ve been run over and the whole world says quit whining and give us more of yourself.

Sorry, folks. I metaphorically died.


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