Still coping

CaptureI still want to cry when I see the pictures of myself in the hospital and think about having her alone, being in the hospital alone. No one visiting. I just…I just need to be ok with all of this. It’s not about strength; it’s not about doing the right thing;it’s about trying to be happy with my life.  It’s about finding or being grateful for the things I’ve done for myself. It’s so hard when I have a baby that is very needy. Sometimes, I just want to leave her in the room to cry. I hate babies. I can’t wait until she’s four.

Finally, she’s asleep.

I hate when people ask me if I have support. All the times she and I have gone to the doctor’s or hospital that stupid question comes up I think, “Do I look like I have support?! I’m here alone, idiot!” Why even ask the stupid question? It’s not like anyone’s going to do anything about it.

My daughter has GERD.  It could be worse, much worse, but it’s difficult doing it by myself.

He wants to come around and babysit a couple of days out of the week, but I don’t even want to see him sometimes. I let him come over because I need a break or I’ll snap. I don’t know if it’s worth it.

I was over his place this weekend. I went upstairs to shower the next morning and saw a picture of him and the new girl on his floor. She’s stunning. Even more so than the last. perfect symmetry. So from yesterday, until today, I’ve had to keep telling myself, “I know I’m not beautiful and it’s ok.  Beauty does not make someone faithful. Lack of beauty does not make someone else cruel.  My life is the way it should be. The way I always knew it would be. Just accept it.”

So I accept it and I let him do what he wants. Then go home and bury it, not think of it. Ignore it.  I try to bury the memory of him putting a bag over my head while 5 months pregnant and asking me to kill myself. I bury him getting another woman pregnant after leaving me and telling me he wants to have a family, a life with her and their kids.  I bury the panic attacks I have when these emotions peek through after months of nothing and not thinking about my past.

You can’t change someone and it doesn’t matter if they treat someone else better. It doesn’t matter if they would never kiss your stomach and talk to your child. It doesn’t matter that they will never tell you they love you or pretend to be faithful or lie to you. It doesn’t change who they are. And it doesn’t change that I will always be lonely with only my children and demons to keep me company.

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My partial confession

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5:54pm

I never thought I would be this kind of person, although everything in my life pointed to her emerging. I wish I could be who I dreamed of being, but that isn’t what I really want, is it? I know why I’m here, I know how I got here, I just don’t know how to accept it. I guess I should be more clear.

I force people into relationships. I’m the kind of woman men are warned to stay away from. The desperate, clingy, needy, love-you-for-eternity-no-matter-the-consequences-or-your-behavior, type of woman. I’m the one men fall in love with at first and then try to claw their way from as I latch on.

I’ve been called a “duck” -at the first sight of possible forever love, I’ll follow blindly thus the day’s events.

I saw him today. I walked into his home uninvited, unannounced, my heart pounding wondering if he was alone upstairs.  I saw the platter of cookies on the counter as I dropped off diapers and made my way to his room. I lied down next to him and cried as I held him. He begrudgingly let me lie there holding him. My belly swelled up against his back.  Our daughter squirming under the sheets.  I wondered if he feels her too.

After an hour or so passes I run my hands down his body and kiss his neck. I want to feel connected to him.  I want to delude myself into thinking he is not gone from my life. He’s angry with me so I make my lips down his chest and ask if I can have him.

I’m not his.  He’s not mine.  I tell myself this everyday.  Soon, I won’t even have our daughter.  She’ll belong to her too.

She thinks I have no reason to be upset because I never had him to begin with. She’s probably right.

I’ve lost my dream again and I’ve fought frighteningly hard for it.  If only I could accept that I’ll never find the person who I want to be then maybe I’ll stop fighting and hurting others in the process.