I’ve created my blogs, just trying to organize them…still.
I’ve decided this one is still going to be my personal blog about my marriage and life in general. I did create a blog based on abuse, but for the most part, I’d like to keep it as help for others, resources, books, advice, and of course, information. I don’t want to stick what I’m currently going through in there. I’ll throw the odd bit in when I’m writing, but not into much detail. I need this blog to vent. The blog isn’t public yet, but it’s called AboutDomesticAbuse. I wanted to keep it to abuse in general, no certain area of abuse and not based on violence alone.
My homeschooling blog is almost ready. It’s called TeachingAdam. I was drawing a blank for a name. I think it’s fitting.
And my Wiccan blog, which has been the last on my mind, is called TheEclecticWitch. Yes, I’m Wiccan, however Wicca is my base and I draw from all sorts of different religions and beliefs. I am an eclectic witch.
Now if I may, I really need to write and just get things off my chest today. My stress level is high again, I can tell my the abdominal pain, nausea, and headache, as well as the lack of motivation and happiness. Depressed state today I suppose.
Yesterday was a decent day. We had to go to town, did some shopping. Stopped and let the kids spend their $4 on toys at the dollar store. Got home, had dinner, got the kids to bed…about 10 times… It was an okay day though in general. Hubby and I watched a movie together. This morning, he couldn’t find his pants he took off last night. They had his change for work, keys, etc in them. So he started on me because again, the house is a mess and that he just doesn’t bother saying anything anymore because I don’t do anything anyway. Those words I’m pretty used to hearing, or along those lines, so I’m not sure why it’s all bothering me so much today. Oh, right. As he left, he didn’t say bye to me, but worst of all, he didn’t say bye to the kids. I had to get Gracie to stop crying. It’s fine if he wants to be mad at me, but don’t punish the kids.
He came to watch what I was doing on the computer last night. I was on Pinterest pinning posts to my Abuse category. (my Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/wiccanmommy) I was reading them remembering the things he’s said and what not. I’ve been trying to remind myself that even in the good days, which are few, the bad days, the scars, the open wounds, it’s all still there. A little sunlight doesn’t stop the raging seas. He started to read them so I brought up this one:
He admitted he does most of it, but then went on to tell me it’s not that bad, he’s not that bad, and it’s most definitely not abuse. He had told me the day before that things were his way or the highway. The first on the list, nothing is his fault which I assume is why he can’t admit it actually is abuse. He says abuse is only physical and sexual. So I might have went about it wrong, but I asked if he’d say the things he does to me, to the kids, and he said he’d never say things like that to them. Except he does. By getting mad in front of them and speaking loudly that he can “never have anything nice because they kids always wreck it” speaks many words, and even more emotions to them. By telling them that they “don’t know how to clean up after themselves, just like their mother” also speaks loud and clear to them, as it does to me as well. He then proceeds to make excuses; “well the kids need to pick up their shit!” “They do break everything!” He’s never in the wrong. Even if it’s his things all over the place, I’m still the one who doesn’t do anything because I haven’t cleaned up after him. I’ll admit, I haven’t been cleaning much and as much as he likes to call me lazy, I don’t feel lazy, I feel broken inside. I feel like I’m dying. Just like the last saying on the image above, that’s how I feel. You can see me in pictures on Instagram, always full of make up. Without it, I have deep lines, my skin has aged more than my 28.5 years. My body is a mess and the daily aches and pains make me feel at least 65 years old. If he could admit to the abuse, maybe we could work on moving forward, but he won’t, he can’t because he honestly doesn’t believe it to be true.
I know what I need to do. I’ve known for years. I do wonder if I’ll make it though. I wonder about the kids and how they’ll manage, especially if I’m there falling to pieces. I wonder about Adams tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. I wonder about him getting in to see the pediatrician since if I left, I’d be moving 7 hours south to Hope BC. I wonder about the effects it would have on all 3 of us, especially the first initial effects. I question my ability to do it; to leave, to be and remain strong, to do what I need to do for my kids, to keep them strong. I question my coping skills because besides writing and listening to music, I have only one way to escape reality. No, I’d never go back to the drugs. I’m strong enough to know that will never again be an option for me. Sex is my escape. I have never had an affair either. I worry about that, not having the escape if I were single because of course, I have no intentions of sleeping around and most definitely will not be inviting random men to my house with my children. Not going to happen.
Ugh, I need to teach myself that the good days are just an illusion. It’s just the calm before the storm.