Know what batty? You and me, we're kinda the same. My x went and joined the army in Va. and I didn't go follow him. I could have. But what was the use? Go to VA. and uproot my family and loose my support system to head to an unkown place where I'm posiitive he would have kept being abusive and the relationship would have ended anyway? He never got his butt up to go to work and he wanted to be self employed. He'd gotten in trouble with the law before so he was sure he'd never get a "real" job if they checked his history. Anyone that met him would not have guessed he spent time in the pokey and with a thing around his ankle when he got out...but sure enough, he did. You just never would have suspected it.
Well, the Army didn't seem to have a problem with it and took him at his old age of 38 anyway---that May the age upped from 35 to 42 of what they'd accept. As I figure, he needed something like that to keep him accountable...he couldn't get his butt off the couch and from smokin the reef and this and that UNLESS there's the threat of military police to hunt his butt down if he regresses, is my thought.
His brain isn't rigged right either. It was like a roller coaster ride every day, only I couldn't stop it and get off the ride no matter how petrified and sick of it I was. I thought when we met...he being from a small town, Lettered in track, renting a farm he desired to get horses and live a farm life, and all the other hopes and dreams and good life he talked about to me....that we'd get along just fine. He sure fooled me. He wanted to leave my pregnant and sick in a bad way from my pregnancy butt behind while he went to Texas to find his biological dad. I don't know what money he was gonna use to get there and do this? We were staying in this house but it was my mom's at the time and we rented it...we just moved here from another state and he had not gone out and gotten jobs yet...so how were we gonna live? He didn't have one clue as where to start to lookin for his dad. I told him, people don't just get in their trucks and go. You have a plan. You do your research over the computer and on the phone to find leads. You have a job so you have money saved up to do something like this...we don't have any money to buy ourselves groceries and I'm carrying your child and on bedrest...you make your plans AFTER all of this.
Then there's the time he said he was gonna take my girls and he and them were gonna go live on an Indian Reservation because he's got a drop of Choctaw in him. He went as far as to ask for fliers from the Choctaw nation. I just never knew where his head was gonna be from one day to the next and what "brilliant" idea he was gonna come up with next. I was being facetious...he never had a brilliant idea...just oodles of bad and poorly planned or thought out ones.
But when he started talking about killing his x-girlfriend and making it look like an accident so he'd get custody of his son...and this was right on the front end of him joining the army where they teach him to fight and kill with guns and other weaponery and hand combat...that pretty much sealed the deal on me going off with him. He kept following me around talking about it and saying how he'd have to kill her father too. I turned around and said, "Look, I can't take it anymore. This isn't right. You need to go see someone about your thoughts." Well, that right there he wasn't expecting---he thought he had broken me down enough where I wouldn't talk back to him...but I did this time. He jumped at me and I prepared to be walloped. He restrained himself but his fist was inches from my face...that's all he wanted in life...to make me cower, to make me feel less of a person, to make me feel more miserable than his miserable self. He almost succeeded. But I knew going and following him would be the death of me in one way or another...and what then would become of my children? They didn't need to live in a home with a mental patient and fear each day of thier lives.
I know batty, you might be thinking...well, J doesn't sound as messed up as W...but I see similarities as in work ethic and hair brained ideas that aren't thought out and planned. You don't need to ride that roller coaster batty. J's jumped track and your free to live. I know it's scary. But I know your a strong woman. I have faith in you. It's ok to grieve. I did. No matter how icky they are...you still lost. You lost what you once thought was going to be...was going to be, like the companion you'd have to rock in rocking chairs on the porch and watch your grandkids try to pet a running chicken. And all that other good old fart stuff loving couples do with and for each other. But maybe this is a blessing. As hard as things might seem right now...you will see a light at the end of the tunnel...like I am now. I'm still scared. This isn't how I thought life was going to be but it is and now I'm on another kind of "ride." I'd like to call it a nice leisurely walk down an old country road...instead of a roller coaster. And that's the way I'm gonna look at it.
Mornin' ya'll.
Bracing for bad weather. No fun at all.
Hyperactive sales dude wanted to take my photo this morning for the web site. I declined. He smirked. I resisted urge to smite, offerred to wear my company shirt tomorrow for the pic. And then I'll stall on the actual taking of said pic until the afternoon, when I'll be gone
Doesn't he understand that I'm the irritating person behind the camera, and not the other way around?
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Aww, you have got to find something else to get up for every day. He's a child, let him go find himself
. You are a strong woman. You need to do things to take care of yourself. Get busy and don't give him the time of day. It's hard, stay busy and do things that make YOU happy
i'm hungry. Sold the tool boxes. Listed a bunch of other J stuff online. Maybe I'll make a bit of cash.
Trying to get the county clerk to answer their phone. Need to get title transfer info so I can get LH's van transferred. Then I'll have transportation again.
If it weren't for LH and her family, I'd have fallen to pieces and be curled up in the fetal position in the dark recesses of my bedroom.
to LH
and to all of you guys too. I know I've been a whiny downer this last couple weeks. I'm even bringing myself down! LOL! Not that the weather is helping I feel like eeyore with the little black rain cloud following me everywhere.
But I know it will get better. I know I'll get all this worked out. It just hurts.
Quote:
Aww, you have got to find something else to get up for every day. He's a child, let him go find himself
. You are a strong woman. You need to do things to take care of yourself. Get busy and don't give him the time of day. It's hard, stay busy and do things that make YOU happy
.
Know what made me happy last night? Listing his splort on craig's list. I sold the tool boxes this morning. I got a hit about the golf clubs. And I have a bag of clothes itching to go to good will.
Yes, I find joy in it. he took all the "impotant" stuff with him.
*yes, I typed "important" incorrectly. However, as I look at it, I think it's a Freudian slip that should remain as is*
I tried to exercise today. I had re-qued up some videos on Netflix instant que.... Same results as 6 omnths ago: Ender did it for 5 minutes, declared it too hard, and cried because there were no boys exercising.
Roning wanted to be held/carried and danced with during the cardio routine.
Then we tried pilates, which bored Ronin, so he disassembled our mat under us. Shane got up, watched me, but didn't get Ronin out of the way so I could finish.
MIL gets up, comes over, stares at me with the unwavering facination of someone stuck in a scooter.
When I was on all fours, Ronin would crawl under me, get on his back, and wait until I had one arm and one leg up in the air, then he'd kick up with all his might.
I started overload (shreik level 4), so shane finally got off his ace and moved the 3 feet fromt he couch to grab Ronin.
At this point, we are doing some embarassing stretching. Martin wakes up, comes into the living room, and belts out a series of catcalls. I start sobbing uncontrollably, run away, and lock myself in the bathroom so I can cry without the audience/hecklers.