This life we've built together leaves much to be desired. Every day seems less like a partnership and more like indentured servitude. This house "we" built feels more like a prison every day. I am slowly losing my mind -- if it's not already gone -- and rapidly losing my patience. All the warning signs are there, yet you continue to distance yourself with your trips outside or by holing up in the home office or bedroom, or, my personal favorite, putting on your headphones in the midst of "family time." Good for you, but for everyone else . . . not so much.
If the tables were turned, well, there's no point in even speculating, because that is not reality. However, I am almost certain that me coming home, showering, changing clothes and then declaring, "I'm going out for a bit," would hardly be acceptable once, let alone on a weekly basis -- that is, if I even bothered to come home first. Oh, how I long to be able to go out on a moment's notice with little to no regard for anyone else. Instead, I have to plan ahead, create an event in the family calendar and wait for "approval." If it's not approved then, I have to consider not only whether it's worth the extra $15/hr to hire a sitter, but, more importantly, if you would agree to the additional cost. This is a partnership, after all, so I take your thoughts/feelings into consideration, even though it seldom feels as though the same is done for me. Then again, "not everything is about" me, or so you have told me 6 or 7 times throughout this relationship.
I, however, seriously beg to differ, as my proverbial cup is beyond empty, and I have nothing more to pour into our kids, you or this marriage. As I said before, all the signs are there, and unless you want to be a single dad until you find a replacement wife, I strongly suggest you check back in both physically and emotionally. Not to wave the orphan card around, but that is my life, and I have yet to begin to address my feelings about it, because I've been doing my best to maintain some hint of normalcy for you and the kids.
We're approaching the second Christmas without my parents, and this one hurts more than the first, because the numbness is starting to wear off, and the gravity of their loss -- and Gus' -- is starting to set in. I would love to be able to talk to someone about it, so I can start to heal. I especially would love to feel as though I could talk to you some time, but I am still reeling from you telling me it was "f***ed up" to talk about 7 months ago, during our last real conversation. I'm sure that was not what you meant, and you probably had no idea that heated statement would ever pop up again, but that really cut deep. It's not something I can just shove away, and I'm constantly reminded of their absence, because, like I said before, that is my life now. To cut those feelings out of my every day life would be like pretending I am not married or that I'm not a mother. Those are all important parts of my identity, and it confounds me that, in that moment, you did not understand that. But, I digress.
Something has got to give. I know I am not by any means the perfect partner, however, I am really struggling to keep it together. If I had somewhere to go, I would go there, because you are not here, and I am at my wits end. Please help me, partner. I'm drowning here.
Kay Dub is a 40 year old stay at home mother of 1 fur baby, a First Grader and a Preschooler. An avid runner, marathon mom, fitness buff, sprint triathlete, and Noxgear Ambassador, her most challenging goal is becoming a Proverbs 31 Woman and "Wife After God".