Drop Dead. Are you stupid? You moron. All these words pour out of my husbands lips and there is no hope that he will ever stop these vile, vicious attacks. Everyday I sit in anticipation, waiting, hoping beyond hope that maybe today he will just chose to ignore me and move along. He says it is all my fault of treating him poorly first but in my mind doesn’t somebody have to be strong enough to hit the ol mute button and eventually hit ignore? How many times do we have to listen to our apparent side kick and ride die talk to us this way? Why would the Universe do this, is she laughing the whole way? I know I haven’t always had the best track record, less than perfect if we are just spitting out facts but how is it I ended up with such a being that hates himself more than he has ever hated me.

You know how I feel about dying. I linger there from time to time thinking it can’t be that bad if those I loved have already headed over to greener pastures hoping that maybe just maybe one day I will find my way. I am far too connected to the life sources that I would leave behind, the very close being my son that I was almost faced to leave this Earth for. Imagine a man, our be all protector telling me, in front of our son, to drop dead where it is that I stand. I can’t tell you the weight that finally caused my heart to pop. Open the flood gates and help me find a way out of this hell. I was told my guardians were tired of trying to prevent the evil beings from getting to me and I used to know what that all meant, now I don’t. I was so strong in my faith that if I kept on living the good life sooner or later I would eventually have to get my own way, wouldn’t I? In absence of a soul mate where do I go and what do I have left. The collection of lives that I have acquired over the years is a testament to my own pain and inner hell.

I hate being laughed at. I hate having those who disagree with me roll their eyes and let laughter escape their lips. Why would you do that to somebody who is just struggling? Don’t you know how truly painful it is to actually be me? I could leave this hell and live in squalor but didn’t I just jump one sinking ship for another? When is enough finally enough or are we meant to spend our lives as scared little housewives too scared of actually feeling and being. I wish beyond all wishes that I could see my Grandma one more time. What do I do and who do I trust? Am I doing the right thing by staying here? What is worse to see? A father who despises your mother a constant battle, an outright war or living in a one bedroom apartment with no pets, no life just me and you content because I can barely take any more. I know what you are thinking. It should be so easy to do. Women have been leaving men for the turn of the centuries but if I do this I am worried how much more damage to my son will start to creep through.

Who needs to be told to drop dead, eat shit, you are stupid, use your brain, are you really that dumb? Sure it is not physical violence but these wounds never heal they just get ripped right open making room for even more. I have never hated myself as much as I do now but I try to stay strong. I can see if I flee in desperation that my poor boy will be the next in line to defend against his rage. As much as I want to save myself I can’t do so safely without being mindful of him. I hate that my husband tells me my son is going to be a failure. He isn’t even 5 and he is about to start his first year of school. I will always maintain if you didn’t like me you had an opportunity to allow the Doctor’s to let me die. When they asked you who they should save, me or him, you should have chose him because once they cut me open I would have bled out. No more me. No more doubt. No more hatred in your heart towards the woman who gave you a son. Even though you lied to obtain him I tried my best to be civil but you isolated me and cut me off from the rest of the world. No friends come to visit and just barely your mom. Once a month visit from your mom, no one else, and they almost literally just live across the street.

You tell me my aging mother can’t possibly see because she never visits. You forget right before the pandemic hit she was in a car accident and then she ended up going blind. She has been waiting for 2 plus years to get surgery and I know it kills her that I can no longer text her pictures that she can see. Imagine driving a 7 plus hour trip when you can’t even see!! What the f is wrong with this man who will say everything under the sun to hurt me. You want to tell me to die and tell my son that his mom’s side of the family doesn’t even care if he is alive, well I can say the same damn thing about yours and yours is only minutes away. Tell me whose priorities are a little more than messed up, huh? When push comes to shove I know who is real and can you even say the say damn thing? I am tired of these words that you have curated to cut me open so you can watch me bleed out. To those that are still living I am fully awake now and if you aren’t already with me you are about to one day soon find out.