spicypisces

Well, it's been three days, and I have taken your advice. I have not spoken to him at all. We have been going out steadily for 3 1/2 years, and have never gone so long without speaking. I told him not to call me but....I would be lying if I said my heart didn't leap out my mouth everytime the phone rings. I am so afraid that he is happy. Once we finally do speak...will his resolve be even stronger than mine that we are finished? I still reserve a fairytale ending in the back of my mind, in which he shows up at my door in tears begging me for another chance. I hope he's cried at least as much as me. I am swinging back and forth right now between feeling excited and powerful, angry and bitter, sad and lonely, empty, but mostly I just feel completely lost - like I've been dropped in the middle of nowhere - like I'm no longer at home. When I broke up with my children's father, it took a year and a half and a new boyfriend to get comfortable in my own skin again. I hate this. My pride will not let me break, though. If he truly does want to break things off....I will not stand in his way. Calling him would just invite his stupid pity and renew his sense of control over me. For the time being, I'll have to drown out his constant narrations in my head. We were so close, that I habitually "hear" him commenting on my day to day business. I want very much to be my own narrator again - the only way this is going to happen is to stay strong. I am especially thankful for the grain of wisdom that it is not him I love anymore, but the idea of what we could have had. How very true. One thing that has helped me immensely, in moments of weakness especially, is writing a list of all the terrible qualities he had, all the horrible things he ever did to me, and everything I hate about him. There is no positive column on this list - and thus far, anyway, I will not make one. Focusing on his negative aspects has done a lot to motivate me through each day. Well, thanks everyone for your encouragement, you may not believe me when I say this but - your words really have come to me the last few days and helped me to do the right thing.

Maybe this is difficult for me to admit to myself.... or, maybe I'm exaggerating negative aspects of our relationship to justify breaking up - maybe everyone goes through this. On Thanksgiving weekend, as I prepared a large meal - I asked my partner for help. He simply said "No, I don't feel like it." This is the answer I ALWAYS get. I sat down for a few moments around noon and asked "When do you think I should put the vegetables in so they will be ready by the time our guests arrive?" "Don't talk to me! Why don't you ask someone who gives a F?" was his answer. Again, the norm. "If you don't help me tidy up" I said, "mayble I'll tell your Mom when she gets here". Of course I was half-joking, I would never directly threaten him. This is was sends him into orbit. He screams at my face and tells me I'm a stupid B and a fat ugly cow. He says if I do one thing to embarrass him, he'll make me regret it. He's not lying. This sends me to my room in tears. When I finally emerge, he has calmed down. He's even helping. It appears he feels badly for the way he treated me. But, he will do it again. And again. Tell me every time he sees me that I'm unattractive. Tell me all of my accomplishments are owed to him. Tell me he will never marry me because I have kids - and I'm not good enough for him anyway. He still hasn't bonded with the children after 3 1/2 years. Even the 4 year old. Throw things in my face and laugh (like dirty laundry). Remind me loudly, at least once a day, that I am boring and stupid and I am driving him crazy. Refuse to do any simple things, carry the groceries in down the stairs with me, take the garbage out with me, pick up after himself of do a single load of laundry or dishes. Dictate what we will do and when, and absolutely refuse to share the tv with anyone - ever. Through all of it, I will do my best to make him smile. For the times when he is nice. Like when we go out together alone and he hugs me and calls me his baby. It feels like abuse. I used to think I was pretty and smart. I asked him on Monday to commit to positive change in himself, or lose me. He said he didn't want to change - so I could deal with it. I told him to leave while I went out with the children, to not be in my house when I returned home. He wasn't. I cried when I realized that he'd actually left. I haven't spoken to him yet. I also didn't go to work today. I know I mean more to him than anything else in the world - and I have warned him that his behaviour would cause him to lose me. I have tried so hard to make him realize that "we" are worth fighting for. He only seems to realize it when he's broken me to tears, or if I break up with him. This is the only time I ever see him regretful. Why do I feel like if he doesn't try to resolve his problems and get my forgiveness - I'll just die?

Hello, all. I just wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for reading my post, thinking about me, and writing me a response. Sometimes, I think we all are just so hungry for someone to listen to us...to have someone tell us that we matter. Thank you so much. I am still battling, but, fortunately for me and my kids - I'm on an upswing. New job, money in my pocket, clean house. I just wish I knew it could last. But, it never does...I always sabotage what is going well for me....and I really have no idea why.

I am absolutely at the end of my rope. I think I'm only writing here to see how it all looks laid out in front of me...do I make sense? Or do I need to take a trip to a mental hospital? I've heard that as you get older, things like depression and anxiety become worse. I am starting to believe that. I am so afraid that one day, I will kill myself. I have never tried, because I know once I do, I will surely mean to complete it. I was a brilliant but depressed child that never fit in. I read fluently at the age of four, and have memories from when I was two. I remember my mother being submitted to hospitals for what my father called nervous breakdowns...big surprise seeing as how he was pounding the tar out of her at that time. I don't blame him, though. My dad had a very difficult life, growing up in a home where his father was a tyrant - and a monster to his two little sisters....I never thought my life would read to make me appear as trailer trash, but, there it is folks. I was sexually molested when I was seven. I told no one until I was older, because my sister knew about it and would always threaten to tell "my dirty secret" if she didn't get her way. My mom was (is) manic-depressive, she's been treated with electro-convulsive therapy with some results, after fifteen years of madness and slashed wrists. Her grandfather and great-grandfather both met their maker at the end of a rifle, held by their own hand. My parents separated when I was twelve, leaving me horribly displaced, and unwanted. I surfed between houses from that time on, depressed, hopeless, and gifted - with no one to care or notice. When at my mother's, I would endure her manic rages night after night, being startled out of bed in the middle of the night by my frantic stepfather, telling me to jimmy open the bathroom door before she cut her wrists. Or, once or twice by the police, coming to take her away (oh my). This was all in a middle class neighborhood. When I'd had enough, I would trek to my older sister's home, or "Hitler" as I sometimes called her. I am still waiting for her to realize that she is even crazer than my mother. I had a baby when I was 19. Many people may call this a poor decision, but, I understand it now. What did I have to lose? In a world where no one loved me or cared about me - I made my own love. Love her I do. She is nine now, she looks a lot like her father but doesn't know him. I met the first man I fell in love with five years later, and planned our wedding while I was pregnant. He ended up getting us evicted from our townhouse, cheated on me with a stripper, and left me in the hospital the day I had our daughter - almost 2 months too early. She almost died, but I love her dearly too. I almost died after I had her. I hung on because she was such a fighter - even though her father denied her and I barely had any room left in my brain to think about her - she fought for her life and she thrived, and she loved me. I almost gave her away, but her older sister was so grateful to have her, and deep down, my love for her was strong. Soon after I finally did meet a nice guy, and we've been together ever since. Although, he hates me - because he doesn't believe in depression. He thinks I'm just willfully flaky. I'm sure he will leave me soon enough because of it. Perhaps it will be better then - his constant harping has worn me so thin, and he really does deserve someone better, being the truly good and driven person that he is. Through my entire life - I have spent so many gut-wrenching days and nights, wondering why I couldn't just DIE. Life seems so pointless, aside from those few I love. I am sometimes a terrible mother because I am such a miserable person. I read posts here, and I understand totally. I can do what I can do - but to what avail? Who will care? I care for nothing - I am hostile and angry, impulsive and anxious - and recently, since my latest job loss - I've started crying again. Bawling, which I haven't done in at least two years. Uncontrollably and regularly, it is so painful to cry and cry, and be unable to stop. The only time I am at peace is when I am sleeping. I drive my boyfriend crazy because I can't (won't) do anything. I will feel fine for a couple months, than, I can't even get out of bed in the morning to take the kids to school...I'll let the housework go, and, habitually get fired from the wonderful jobs that I've had because I cannot force myself to give a crap. It is killing me. I have stopped caring for everything, some days, I cannot even look at my children and FEEL. I am snappy and irritable, wanting only to lock myself in my bedroom and not be disturbed. What kind of life is this for me? For them? I think...change is possible, only for those who really want it. What for those who WANT NOTHING BUT TO BE DEAD? I often think I was born destined to kill myself - I have been thinking of it since I was twelve. I find myself wishing now I had never had these two beautiful children, for then I could've been done with myself long ago. I feel like my pain has become worse, because I have trapped myself in a prison - I cannot die because my children bind my to life. I am so miserable because I can't be the wonderful mother that they deserve. I feel like I am trying so, so hard...and still nothing matters. Don't Give Up has become my mantra, but, I am growing so very very tired - I just don't know how much longer I can bear it. Would they be worse off without me? Perhaps killing myself would be a good thing for them, they would be free of my negative influence and have an opportunity for a normal life. If I did kill myself, I would make it appear as an accident, to make it easier on my children - so they wouldn't feel stigmatized or ashamed, and could collect insurance for their education. It is so terrible that I could be worth so much more to them dead. But, it is reality.