11/21/2009

Sometimes I have to wonder what the hell is wrong with me.  One day I’m fine and the next it feels like the world is falling apart.  No matter how much things go well, there’s still enough to make me hate the pieces that are falling apart.  I just don’t understand why I can’t just see every day for what it is and have to keep getting stuck on the ugly parts.  Maybe it’s just the pregnancy, I don’t know.

Today started alright.  Oz and I cuddled on the bed.  He was really sweet and loving this morning.  I actually started the day out pretty happy.  It seemed like, though it was a miserable, cold, and wet day, things were going to be alright.  This has been the way things are for the past few days.  I could get used to it.  Yeah, every day had it’s moments, but at least we were both mostly doing okay.

Of course, nothing can stay well forever, at least that’s the way it seems.  Shortly after the happy start to the day I had to get up and go downstairs to deal with the kids who were fighting over everything.  I made a simple request, that they go downstairs and have some cereal so I could let my stomach settle then get into the shower.  It wasn’t such a big deal, right?  Well, apparently I was wrong.  Corde tried to give Beekee milk in his cereal, even though he wasn’t supposed to have any.  Then she claimed he insisted on milk in a regular cup instead of his sippy, something I’m only okay with if I can watch him.  That wasn’t the problem at all.  He had no milk in his sippy cup either and wanted some more, he didn’t care what he drank it from.  So I had to deal with the two of them screaming while I tried figure out what was going on without having to run off to empty my stomach, which was seriously revolting.

Needless to say, I wasn’t exactly in a good mood after that.  There’s something about being ill and dealing with fighting kids that puts just about anyone’s mind in a bad place.  These things never turn out well for me, and in the end, I was met with even more frustration because of things that have been eating away at me right from the start.  Each little thing just started to dig at me that much more since I was already in a vulnerable state to begin with.  Not surprisingly, that all came crashing down on my head.

I’m not quite sure how the subject came up, but the other girl was mentioned again.  He had been going out to the movies with her when he was supposedly playing Magic.  She would drop him off across the park.  He was really lucky he didn’t get caught by anyone we know, or happen to be walking up to the house when I was outside taking out the garbage or whatever.  He kept insisting that he had a ride, but he didn’t.  It was all lies.  On top of that, I knew he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.  He kept getting frustrated when I’d send him texts asking when he’d be home saying he needed to concentrate on the tournament.  He’d never done that before and was always able to answer my calls, or at least call me back between matches.  There was that night at the Shisha Lounge, where apparently he’d told this girl to back off, but she didn’t give a damn.  Everyone knew what was going on.  Everyone warned me she was trying to take him away from me.  Even I knew it.  I just didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to go for it.  Or maybe I did.  Maybe that’s why I flipped out on him so much when he wanted to go to the gym with her.  I knew something was going on, but I had no proof.  There were the days I’d drop him off and say "Love you!" out the window only to be waved off.  Then there was the morning I’d come around the building to leave the parking lot and saw him outside talking to her.  Another time I came to pick him up and the two of them were in the parking lot because she was waiting with him.  We got in an argument because I’d told him that the girl dressed like a slut, which was kind of true with the way she was dressed that night, and pretty much the way I’d always seen her.

Well, I got stuck on the topic, reminding him how easily he could have gotten caught, and asking him what he would have done if he had.  I asked him what he was thinking.  I really just need to hear his side of things.  I know he’s not ready to tell me what was really going on, other than in bits and pieces, but it’s driving me insane.  I really need to know why he did this to me, and in truth, his easy excuse of telling me exactly what I told him I thought it was doesn’t cut it.  Yes, I’m good at making excuses for him.  He was scared about the baby.  He was scared about committing and settling down.  He felt guilty because he’d cheated on me before that.  He’d been going through a rough time with the divorce.  He was worried that things would never get better.  He hated his job.  Yeah, he had a lot of negative going on.  That doesn’t tell me why he did it, what he was thinking, or how he thought he could get away with it.  I need answers for my own sanity and he owes them to me, not on his schedule, but on mine.  I deserve more than when he’s ready to talk about it.  I think I’m being forgiving enough in taking him back, letting him live with me, and allowing him to get close to me again.

I’ll be honest, it still really hurts.  That’s an open wound that’s going to be painful for a while.  I can’t be sure it’s something that will ever truly heal, and definitely won’t as long as I keep feeling put off by him.  I wake up in the morning either clinging to him desperately, wanting to beg him not to leave me again, or curled up away from him, wondering how long it’s going to be before I realize I’ve made a mistake.  At night as I fall asleep, I keep having the urge to make him promise he’s not going to leave again.  I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be alright, but when he does, I just want to push him away and scream at him that he’s got no right to tell me that.  I want to cry because it still hurts so much.  I spend my days unmotivated and unable to accomplish much of anything, and I know only part of that is exhaustion from lack of decent sleep.  As much as a need for frequent naps is common this late in pregnancy, part of it is also him.  Yeah, it’s great having him back now, but I feel like I’ve got to walk on egg shells with him or he’ll just snap at me and make me cry.  While he apologizes afterward, I’m still afraid one of these days he’s going to snap and walk on out that door again.  I’m afraid this whole thing is a stupid, pathetic dream, that I brought him back through my own begging, desire, and persistence and it’s all going to blow up in my face.  I’m waiting for this to turn into a love spell gone wrong, which would be amus

ing, since there was no love spell involved at all.  It just seems like there’s no option but to suffer in silence and ignore the pain until Thorn’s got the time to sit down and talk with us again.

It’s not always like that either.  Yes, there are always these little nagging feelings in the back of my mind.  There’s always these painful thoughts that it might happen again, but usually I can push them behind me.  Most days I look at what’s actually happening, and how incredibly caring he’s been, and that’s enough.  He’s trying.  He may not be going to the extent he used to, but he’s making an effort to be sure I’m doing okay.  Hell, even when I got so miserable, depressed, and upset earlier, he went out of his way to try and drag me from my foul mood.  It worked for a while too.  There were a couple hours in there when the pain became just a nagging annoyance in the background and I was able to enjoy the time we spent together.  It’s just too bad it didn’t last.

Everything fell apart again when the neighbors brought the kids back home.  Beekee was crying.  Corde was causing problems.  They couldn’t deal with it, so they brought the kids back over.  I was just going to lay down for a few minutes before we all went next door to play video games, but that wasn’t going to happen.  Corde was blamed for the whole thing.  They gave her food and she didn’t want it.  Some girl at Girl Scouts told her she couldn’t share food with boys because they had germs, so she didn’t want to share with her brother.  Then she kept going upstairs when she was told not to.  However, only one of them told her not to.  The other one told her it was fine to go upstairs and play.  Realistically, the more I hear about the story, the more I realize that it wasn’t really Corde’s fault at all.  She was getting confused because she was hearing two different things from two different people, so she decided to do whatever the hell she wanted to do.  They have the same problem with their daughter, and my kids are picking up bad habits from her.  One parent will tell her she can’t have any more crackers.  Then the other parent will tell her she can if she just sits out of the way and stays quiet.  One parent tells her to lay down, the other lets her stay up to play.  The mom complains constantly that her daughter won’t listen to her, but that’s because she’s learned she doesn’t have to.  Every time the mother tells her to do something, the dad lets her get away with it.  Lesson to be learned is that she doesn’t have to listen to her mother.  I had to deal with that one with Corde with Caelan’s wishy-washy rules that changed on a constant whim.

So, now I’m back to being unmotivated and frustrated.  Oz is over with the neighbors, playing video games.  I wish he’d just stay here with me and just let me cry until I started feeling better, or held me and watched a movie or something.  I want some time where I just don’t have to face the world, and I know he knows how to bring me out of these miserable moods.  All it takes is a little love, a little affection, and a little freedom to express how I feel, but I won’t stop him from going over to hang out with the neighbors and have a good time.  He needs a break sometimes too.  If it hadn’t been for the whole thing with the kids, I would have been over there right now, hanging out and having a good time instead of here, miserable, depressed, and disinterested in anything that vaguely sounds like it could mean fun.

~*~Rave~*~