Why I’m Done…

Recently I read an article on scarymommy.com titled Why I’m Done Asking My Husband To Help Me Out and it was a good eye opener. I’m going to add something to that:

Why I’m Done Telling My Husband When I’m Angry

Today my husband is playing Yugioh. So I start the day angry. He knows this. He tries saying things or showing me things to “cheer” me up. Nothing works. Sorry, but nothing you can do will cheer me up on this day. I despise his hobby that much. But guess what? I don’t have to fucking like it! I don’t have to support it. I do not have to. Period. I don’t stop him from going, but that does not mean I have to be happy about it. 

My husband knows damn well the mere mention of the cards is enough to send me into a hellfire fueled rage. So I’m done telling him. My husband knows being stuck in his grandparents basement often puts me through a near psychotic break. So I’m done telling him. My husband knows damn well that being the only one changing the shitty diapers of our two toddlers breaks me of all sanity. So I’m fucking done telling him. 

If he doesn’t fucking get it by now, I’m just wasting my breath anyway. I’m sick of feeling like I’m whining and complaining and it not doing a damn bit of difference. So I’m done. He’s a grown man. A grown man who completely lacks empathy and has no desire or capability of gaining that sense. I should not have to ask him or tell him to help me with the kids because they’re his kids too. 

I’m also done asking if he’s angry or upset. If he feels the need to tell me, he will. A lot of the time I know he is because I’ve done or said something I know touches a nerve. This post (if he reads it) will touch a nerve. If he doesn’t tell me and I’m none the wiser, that’s on him. Not me. Same goes the other way around. I’m sick of having the responsibility of caring too much what others think. I’m sick of telling people who don’t really care about me what’s going on with me. I know who’s there for me, who cares about me, and who doesn’t. Or I’ll figure it out soon enough. 

It must be nice being the one who makes the most money. Being the one who has the schedule everyone else has to work around. Being the one who doesn’t have to worry about what’s going on at home because you depend on family and the mother of the kids to take care of everything. Because I’ll tell you what, it sucks being the one whose piss-poor, minimum wage, part time job has been diminished, it sucks having to balance everyone’s schedule which includes, but is not limited to Husband’s, kids’, mother-in-law, grandparents-in-law, and my own. And it pretty much goes in that order because I have to depend on my in-laws for their vehicle because hubby and I only have one and he always has it. 

I have a lot to be angry about. I have a lot to be hurt and upset about. Nothing is changing around here. I do what I can, but I’m extremely limited in what I can do. 


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