“Love”?

It’s been quite a while since I have written. So much has happened. I fell into a deep depression. My anxiety became heightened and I was less of a mother and less of a wife than I should have been.

I took a trip. I went to MO to be with my cousin, Jessica. She and I are so close. We used to say that God made us cousins instead of sisters because no mother would be able to handle the both of us together. haha

The depression was so deep. It was like a dark, sinister black hole that consumed me in pieces. I needed time away. Away from my work, from my school, and even from my family… Yes. That bad.

It was eye-opening to me. I saw the way she and her family is. Her husband and her children… It opened my eyes to so much. And it may sound like there is negative contradicting the positive but it is what I needed. I saw that she could take her time doing things, or go places without needing permission. She and her husband would talk about disciplining their children and even when they didn’t agree it wasn’t a horrible argument full of yelling and disgusting verbal lashings.

It was nothing like what I have.

I love my husband. I used to have a confusive understanding around what love was. I thought it was all the same. But the love I have for him vs my cousin/family, vs friends, vs.. well, forever. They are different loves. I love him  a strange way. I love his companionship but only in small doses. I love when he brings me coffee in the morning.. or used to bring. I love when he would run me a hot bath with candles and wine… or used to. I miss when he used to actually plan out dates, whether they were a night in or out.. or when he used to plan. I miss waking up to him brushing my hair from my face. I miss when we actually had sex. Like GOOD sex. The kind that felt endless. Now the most I can get is a couple fingers and a limp banana in my hands until my hand is full of sperm sprouts.

I miss when we would talk. Talk and talk and talk. About the things that meant nothing or the things that were everything. The things that lingered in my mind and the things that lingered in his. Things we laughed about and things we held eachother deeply for when the words began to become difficult to utter.

When we discipline our children, we think very differently. I want to note here that we absolutely DO NOT corporally punish our children. But we do have a different approach… I believe in helping my children identify their feelings, teaching them to learn to vocalize them, and assessing the punishment necessary to appreciate hard work and discipline. My husband, however, decides to yell at the children- tells them to quit crying, tells them to quite acting like a drama queen, stop being overdramatic, stop asking for bandaids, “get over it”, “you know better” blahblahblahblahblah.

I have my daughter by another man, she is 11. He is her step-father. He and I got into an argument the next day I had returned. He told me how awful, lazy, and boring I was. He told me I was overweight and “should go for a walk” or “start running again” when this man comes home to sit at a gaming computer for at least 4 hours of his day and has gained 60lbs himself (which I know for sure because he told me his beginning weight during the beginning of our relationship). I’m not mad about that. I know it’s natural to gain weight throughout life. But to have a man who has been currently doubling his size within the last 5 years.. how the fuck dare you? I birthed a daughter, starved as a single mother to give her all she needed, worked 16 hour shifts, and even developed an eating disorder. I then married him and gave birth to our son 4 years later during COVID after working  60+ hours a week. Yet I’M the problem because of my weight?

I am sick of men like him.

I just want to be loved. I want coffee brought to me in bed. I want time to given to me to wake up so I can make us breakfast and give him a shoulder massage. I want to come home from a long day of work to him preparing dinner, considering he gets off work at 1pm. And then we could make dessert together and watch our favorite shows while folding laundry after we had bathed and put the kids into bed. I want to laugh and take pictures. I want to take long walks with one another and discuss our favorite moments of the day or participate in the activities the other likes rather than what only the other person (he) enjoys..

I want to have someone communicate with me talking about the issue from the beginning instead of pretending all is okay instead of suddenly exploding. Suddenly screaming that I am fucked up and fat and have nothing stable in my heart.

I want to come home and not have my daughter sob into my arms because when I was gone her step-dad yelled at her for being sad after school when she was bullied and told her “you’re just like your mother being depressed all of the time and you need to get rid of it and stop”.

How do I protect my babies when I am living with someone I love but can’t fully love in the way you can trust a true love?

what is ‘true love’, anyway?

It’s bullshit.