Blog Like You Mean It
Today was better. I didn’t cry. I wan kind of numb actually.
I will be ok though – eventually.
So to the few ppl who I know read my blog, know I’ll be alright. I need to deal and let it sink in a little.
And hang on to hope – at least until July. Then, we’ll see what happens.
Back to our regularly scheduled blog…thanks for reading. Stick around, plz. It will get better.
Laying here in bed, tired as hell but it hurts to close my swollen eyes. I don’t know if my eyes are stinging from being so tired or if they just hurt from crying earlier.
The fresh tears aren’t helping things either.
I like it much better living in the land of make believe where hope and dreams live. This reality world – where hope is lost and one little sentence can cause your whole world to come crashing down around you – sucks.
I just can’t stop thinking about it. How calm he was saying it. How he watched me sob. How what I wanted or had to say didn’t matter.
How I didn’t matter.
I didn’t ask for this life. This caretaker role. This head of household, bring home the bacon role. I didn’t think I’d be the bread winner.
What I did ask for was a conversation about bringing a homeless child into our home for us to care for and love. A conversation.
And what did I get in return?
Hopes and dreams shattered by a single sentence.
4 words that keep ringing through my head – “I don’t want kids.”
Thank you dr whoever and therapist whatshisname. Thank you for determining my future. Thank you for ruining my life.
I need to sleep but the tears keep falling. How am I supposed to go on?
The world of sunshine and roses, of hopes and dreams is long gone. I want to go back in time. Just one stinking day.
I had hope then.
Now? I just have tears and emptiness and a heart beating behind a bandaid ready to be ripped out again.
Well after my complete meltdown over what my husband told me, we talked a little bit and he decided that his “no” decision was made hastily and without research of different options. So he asked that we re-discuss everything in July to give him time to look into things and our different options – adoption or fostering, etc.
While I appreciate his slight change of heart, I do feel like he is only pacifying me, which I don’t want either.
So he ripped my heart from my chest, shoved it back in and put a bandaid over it.
I sure hope he doesn’t rip it back out in July.
I want him to follow his heart and listen to HIMSELF and not two old men who don’t have anything to do with our marriage or lives. If his heart tells him being a daddy isn’t something he wants to do, then we’ll deal with it. But if it does…then (yay!) and let’s start looking into our options.
In the meantime…I’ll be desperately holding on to the tiny ounce of hope that I still have and trying not to shed anymore tears over this.
I see much therapy in my future…which is probably long overdue…and meds.
