Every one around me seems to be dancing and having a good time and I’m here fumbling to the beat like a love struck zombie. I don’t know when this started becoming normal to me. When did I begin feeling so rejected? Was it when I was a teen and my mother just some how knew I’d be a loser? At least she gave me options to how low I could possibly go on that scale and I’m… proud… to say that I am NOT a heroin addict. IN YOUR FACE MOTHER!
Every time I’m outside, I look around and feel this overwhelming feeling that nothing is real. I often find myself fantasizing different ways I could possibly die as I walk through these grey and brown streets. I wonder how many can say they’ve died a thousand times and lived to tell the tale?
A handful of years ago, I met some one. I called him my personal superman. It always felt like he’d come to my rescue whenever I needed him. Whenever my mother berated me, he’d be there to shit on her words. If I needed a push, it would be his gentle hands providing that nudge. It’s different now. That gentleness became impatience and that nudge became an angry shove. My sexual desires have died along with the rest of who I use to be. But God forbid I tell him I’m not in the mood. Those are some dangerous words in my house. How could I possibly be in the mood when the same hateful words I’d hear from my mother are now coming from him? I often find myself staring at the ceiling and just watch my world move up and down, up and down until it’s over, how ever long it may take, just to feel like I died a little more. It feels downright cruel whenever someone asks anything of me. I just want to stay in my room and never come out but I have responsibilities. So I go out with my hair that I haven’t washed in two weeks (or more) in a very tangled bun, my clothes that I’ve had since before my weight gain, cute… and tackle on the day the best way that I can. I’ve developed an extremely unhealthy eating pattern pretty much consisting of not eating at all throughout the day and ravaging what ever I can find at night. A few nights ago I changed my mind about having sex with my “significant other”…. because I had overeaten and couldn’t perform in that condition. He became upset and was going to go out and hang with MY old friends. I called him disgusting for it. “You’re just gonna leave because we’re not having sex? Can’t you just stay with me and hold me??? No?? You’re disgusting.”. This is where the fun begins. He decided to stay. I tried to go to sleep but he began to shake the bed, purposely putting his foot on some thing that made a loud creaking noise. This went on for a couple of hours as far as I could tell. I was desperately trying to fall asleep because I had to get up at 7 AM to prepare our child for school. It was around 2 AM when it began. At some point, while it was still dark outside, he turned on the TV. I ignored it as best as I could. I thought to myself, “If he wants to get a reaction, I’m not giving it.” Then he turned off the TV and began blasting some thing on his REALLY loud phone. I politely asked him to lower it. He mocked me as a truck went by “Oh I’m sorry let me lower the volume on that truck too since it’s soo loud.”. I felt my heart sink as I realized that my day was going to consist of this. I cried a little before going to sleep, only to wake up an hour later to do what I had to do. He continued attacking me emotionally the entire day until he left to go to work… but for some reason… the one thing that sticks out in my mind the most was his interpretation of me with what I could only describe as a “fat voice”. Once he felt better, he apologized to me… as if I gave a crap about that. I’ve been crying to myself ever since. After all that though… today he said “Hi” as we were laying in bed watching Supernatural and I knew what it meant… So I got up and took off my underwear and just let it happen. Being careful that I didn’t let him see me cry.