I think one of the worst things in the world is knowing things when people don’t think you know them. It’s part of the reason I’m as open and honest as I am; I feel worse when I find out later and then I feel like everyone was getting one over on me. But that’s when I genuinely don’t know something. When I do, and have to pretend I don’t…well, it’s difficult to say the least.
I don’t know why humans do this to one another. I want to say to my husband, “Hey, I know about X, Y and Z, and while I’m at it, let me tell everyone you trash-talked me to certain people, oh, and there are things I know about you, and then we can see where we’re at.” It’s hard…I’ve never defended myself whenever anyone confronted me because I don’t believe I should’ve had to; my marriage is just that, a union between TWO people, and the fact that so many people became so intimately involved with what they think happened within it is just sick.
I want this to be over. I want to feel better. I want to move on. Certain things are a matter of respect. Certain things. Certain things I know of but am not supposed to know of, so I feel foolish.
I hope that one day, when something real happens, he will finally understand what he did to me this year.
Also, when is it appropriate for me to delete half of my Facebook friends so that I don’t have to see any ridiculous updates on his life? (And so that I feel less like I need to censor myself?)
So, sometimes I become completely overwhelmed with what happened, and then other times I’ll think of such random things that put it into perspective; like, that I’m going to die one day. That
was born PERFECT. He is a big, strong,
healthy baby, and that is a fucking miracle. My biggest hope is that I never know a day
without him. That he grows up, gets old,
and lives a good life for years after I’m gone.
Sometimes I think of how big the world is. How there are feet on every corner of it and we are all sort of the same. Sometimes I think of certain moments, like getting lost, or highway driving, conversations, and not the big ones, but random ones, sometimes with random people, that I might never see again. Looking out a window. Taking a breath. Thinking a thought. Everything still happens. Still continues. Whether or not life is how I planned it, it is how it should be.
It is very hard to do this alone though. Especially with a newborn. I mean, every night, all night. All day. I don’t have another person to pass him off to so that I can even run to the bathroom. It gets to be a lot. I get tired. Emotionally and physically. I get frustrated. I get scared. And
is getting more and more attached to me because I’m the only consistent person
caring for him.
Overnight, on the nights he won’t sleep, I literally feel like my body is going to fall apart. I came out of the hospital in terrible pain, and had to go it alone from the beginning. I never had a chance to catch my breath.
I just want to catch my breath.