My Whinefest or Why Am I Still Doing This

A low point...that's what some would call this...a low point in my life. What an understatement! Sometimes, when people are going through hard circumstances, they say "someday we'll look back on this and laugh"...no...no, I won't. I will never look back on this and laugh. If reading someone's personal pity party nauseates you, look away now...go read another blog. I'll post something more cheerful another day and you can wait and read THAT post...this post is not for you.

I'm separated from my husband. He says he wants me back. For the life of me, I don't know what makes him say that. He swears he loves me, but his actions scream resentment and ill-will. There were problems in our marriage, obviously...at least they were obvious to ME. He seemed to think everything was roses. How can a human being be so blind? Tell me, if your wife sits you down and says to you "if things don't change, I'm taking the kids and leaving you" does that give you the impression that everything is roses? Apparently it did to him. He tooled along as if I'd never spoken until I couldn't stand it anymore and I actually left him...then he acted surprised and betrayed. Before anybody tells me I didn't give him enough of a chance, let me be clear...we had the above mentioned conversation once every few months for THREE YEARS.

It really came down to two problems in the marriage. Firstly, there was the depression...primarily his, but eventually it became mine too. Depression kills. Now I don't blame him for the depression, that wouldn't be fair. What I DO blame him for is the fact that once I left and he got treatment, he seemed to think that since HE was miraculously cured, I would be too. It's unfair that there should still be damage to the marriage, damage to the trust, damage to ME, so he refuses to accept that the damage exists. He refuses to accept that I had to leave for my own mental health. Since all of his problems were seemingly miraculously cured with just a handful of little pills, he expects that all of MY problems will vanish just as quickly. Since the depression wasn't "his fault" he seems to feel it's unfair of me to ask him to help pick up the wreckage...he even seems to feel it's unfair for me to ask him to WAIT while I pick up the wreckage on my own. He's pressuring me for a reconciliation that I'm not ready for...that I'm not even sure I want.

The second problem with the marriage was the fact that he never loved me in the first place. He thinks he did...I don't. See, I pressured him into this marriage in the first place. I loved him. I knew from the start that he didn't love me, but I loved him anyway. He thought he loved me, and he still thinks that. Poor, deluded soul. He can't love me, because there isn't enough room in his heart for me AND his first love...himself. He doesn't want me back because it would make me happy, he wants me back because it would make HIM happy. He doesn't care about the things I go through on a daily basis unless they directly affect him. He doesn't care just for the simple fact that they affect ME. He has no concern for how I'm coping or how I'm feeling...unless that means that I'm less receptive to HIM. He has reconciliation as his own personal agenda. We can't have a normal adult conversation without him pushing his agenda. The other day I was just having a horrible, horrible time and I turned to him...I don't know why, I guess something in me told me that I should be able to get comfort from my husband of all people...he blew me off, insulted me, blamed me, and then pushed his agenda for 20 minutes and told me how he loved me. I give up.

The rest of my pity party? Money has to be at the top of the list here. I can't work because of overwhelming anxiety, so I basically have no income except what comes from child support and my room mates' rents. So tell me...when you put together $750 in rent, $340 in water, and $570 in heat, what do you get? Much more than the $1500 I have to spend, that's what. And food is supposed to come from where?

It gets better. I have no health insurance. Last month I was in the emergency room and they found something "weird" with my heart rhythms. Probably should follow up on that, huh? Tough. No money, no health insurance, not going to run up amazing medical bills so that I can have a heart attack and die and leave them for my kids to pay. So I'm under all this stress and I feel like I've got a ticking bomb in my chest.

But wait...it gets better. I haven't had heat in my house since January. The furnace blew, and the landlord still hasn't fixed it yet. I checked to see what I could legally do in this state...guess what? I could move if I had the money, but that's about it. Since I couldn't have my 11 year old living in a house in the winter with no heat, I had to send him...you guessed it, to my husband. Now, my greatest fear since we separated has been that my husband would try to take my son. I've had nightmares about it. My son has been at his house for 6 weeks now. I don't know what he's telling that child, but now my son doesn't want to come home. In fact, I can barely manage to get a 10 minute visit with him a couple of times a week. Since the weather is warmer now and we don't NEED the heat, I started making noises about my son coming home...he doesn't want to. I've lost my baby.

So why is it that I'm scrabbling to keep the internet up and running when the smarter thing financially would be to turn it off? Why am I still spending hours every day doing character sketches and outlines? Quite simply because I have to. It's the only thing keeping me sane. It's the only thing I CAN do that might get me on my feet. It's the only tool I have to fight with, and if I stop fighting my life is over. Quite simply, it's the only hope I have left.