i’m in a very bad spot these past few days.
i’m a pretty good mom. i’m saying i AM a pretty good mom even though these past few days/week i have NOT been a good mom. i have had an extremely short patience, and an exteremely short fuse, affixed to a very large explosion. i manage to have the TOTAL TANTRUMS away from the children, but the tone in my voice as i am with them is telling. i am not speaking to them respectfully and simply the fact that i am getting SO irritated about the lamest shit and so constantly—– i can’t go on like this. there is nothing more important in the whole world than being a good mother to these humans that came out of my body, yet here i am, not giving them one ounce of the respect that they deserve every day.

yes, i’ve gone thru mom days when everything goes wrong and there i am at 3:00 screaming about not getting washable marker on the kitchen table but this shit is different. i’m not going most of the day and then hitting a breaking point, i’m yelling about the dumbest fucking shit all god damn day.

it is all my own fault. feelings are feelings, just let them be. move on. focus on the positive. I’M FUCKING TIRED OF IT. i’m so outraged that i have been so disrespected. i can not focus on the positives. because i don’t trust him, i don’t even know if i love him. forgive and love and accept to move on. welllllll yeah. not so much. i don’t want to forgive him——– i certainly can’t love him if i hate him so much.

i don’t recognize myself, i don’t recognize my life. all i am is angry. i exist in a state of anger, of severe severe severe irritation.
this is no way to live. smile thru it and be congenial- i can’t be real like this with him because it would be so fucking unproductive. i don’t want to HURT him. why??? i’m the one with the issues. maybe i’m the nice guy. i don’t know what is wrong with me any more.

i tell my best friend i don’t know what my problem is lately but i’ve turned into an angry person. more than anger, rage. i yearn to punch things, to break things, to throw and hurt and harm objects. i’ve thrown my vacuum across the room, knocked over chairs. pretty much acted like a fucking child having a temper tantrum OVER NOTHING.

there is no excuse for this and it is no way to live.

best friend is like: well yeah—- why am i not at all surprised. look at your life the past month. you have to be angry. but you’re not showing it. all you’re talking about with anyone (her and husband and therapist included) are the great things. wow, the sex is great. wow, he’s given up porn cold turkey. wow, he hasn’t masturbated, he’s not touching his own dick. wow, i SWALLOWED last night for the first time and let him cum in my mouth for the first time 3 days ago. WOW WOW WOW. so much great shit around every corner.
Wow, he traced the edges of my clavicle, he counted my freckles, he gave me the meat stare, he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. Wow, he kissed me in the kitchen, wow, he does it every day, he even french kisses me now. Wow, he paid attention to my breasts, wow, another orgasm from oral. On and on, SO MUCH GREAT SHIT.

Guess what though- she points out that despite all this awesomness there must be some pain that i refuse to let out, refuse to acknowledge.
so boom. throw a fucking physical tantrum over absurd bullshit instead. the rage is displaced. obviously so. rocket science here.
i have never behaved like this since becoming a mother. i used to pull this shit when i was younger… when we were first married we had some FIGHTS that included throwing and breaking things. but acting angry during an angry fight is fine. this– not fine.
ever since i had my first baby 10 years ago, i let go of that childish behavior. i started boxing it up.

now, what to do, what do i even think about when these are going on. my voice cracks as i scream because i’m pushing it louder than it will go. the edges of my vision go blurry. i can not continue this.

it is not safe to drive down the road and let my body rage around the car hitting things hoping to break my hand. hoping that if my hand were broken at least the pain would be physical. that i could FEEL it and remember that i’m alive and to live. i want physical pain. and i put myself into it.
i feel so fucking stupid and unstable and idiotic. i know how dumb this all is but it is reality right now. i don’t want it to be but i don’t know how to change it.

i am so angry at my husband, at myself. so angry that i let him take those years and waste them. so angry that i have been so unfulfilled for so long and then bam- he just turns it on. well that is fucking great- because guess what. maybe you could have turned it on a long ass fucking time ago so i wasn’t living without intimacy for TEN GOD DAMN YEARS.
i have nothing nice to say to him. i fucking hate him for doing this to me.

i hate myself for letting him. for standing by and being a good wife and continuing to TRY LIKE A FUCKING PUSSY and not stand up stronger for myself when he neglected me and rejected me day after fucking day.
i hate myself for allowing this.
for not leaving him.
for not threatening him with an ultimatum long long long ago.
i hate myself for not following thru with the divorce, or at least not taking a longer seperation.
i have always thought that i have good self confidence, a healthy self esteem, but someone with any self esteem at all does not allow their spouse to treat them like a rotting piece of shit for ten mother fucking years.

husband 1.0 is gone. la de da great. husband 2.0 is a different person. sure. wonderful.
but guess what- that doesn’t mean i don’t REGRET WITH EVERY BONE IN MY BODY staying with him. i do regret it. i regret missing out on the opportunity for happiness and fulfillment for all those years. for the opportunity to have been desired. i regret so much. no one is perfect. and happiness comes from within. but happiness CAN NOT COME FROM WITHIN when you’re giving yourself freely only to be neglected.