I Woke Up Like This: Wretchedly Ignorant

My thoughts transcended into today from yesterday like a fire that self-reflection could not extinguish.

The reminders are always there, from the trash that my boys and I need to bob and weave through from its collection and the smell that results from it. This mucilaginous incarnation laid its heavy head to rest for days. To finally rise again like a phoenix from the ashes to loaf about, lurk on TicTok to find unnaturally titillating fraus, hiding in dark corners to eavesdrop into conversations and find moments to belittle and demean me in front of my children.

I am talking about my former life partner; for the 15th year that I’ve settled with at present.

Nothing ever ends how it begins.

My college life was a whirlwind of irresponsible behavior with a 3.8 average and a budding relationship with alcohol—all leading up to my life in the present.

It all became sealed with a sloppy good-bye french kiss with the promise of a phone call. Later that night, a former friend from school tried desperately to have his way with me while I was blindingly drunk, and I couldn’t sleep for the entire night because I had to keep fighting him off. Years later, the trauma from that incident had devastating results to my already stressed mental state when they reappeared in my life, now with a child of their own. That’s another dumb bitch story for another time.

You would not believe what I have tolerated for these many years. I know that I deserved it, all of it for being misguided about the true nature of humans. My childlike naivety led me to believe that in time, things would change, and a significant event would make them reevaluate the order of things and make things harmonious for us to be a happy and carefree family.

I was never so unbelievably wrong.

The years before my first child, I had windows of opportunity to rewrite my future. Living my life without a companion was unimaginable. I wanted a friend to explore new adventures with; instead, frozen pizzas in bed and self-served pussy for 4 hours straight on weekends. Not much else beyond verbal abuse about my weight, if loyalties were broken after being out late drinking at bars doing trivia, and complete acceptance of the lies I was fed.

I know the answers to the question of me staying, and I am ashamed to have done this to myself.

This morning I had to apologize to my oldest son, and I fought back the tears while using examples of how humans display selfishness. This dialog was triggered by my youngest son watching children play in a bounce activity center on youtube. In his young life, he’s only seen those places on TV. They have a father who puts himself first and does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. And I just let it happen.

It pains me that I can’t just up and leave. I can’t pursue attaining a steady wage because I have zero confidence in a person who created these beautiful beings or the family who raised him. I have not been part of a functioning family dynamic, and I have gone insane. There are days where I want to curl up and drown myself in tequila, and other days where I envision myself in jail for committing a critical assault toward someone. I can’t even entertain any of that. I love my kids too fucking much.

My role as a mother is something I don’t take lightly. All of the late nights, diaper changes, the miserably sick days, one-hundred and five fevers, first steps, birthdays, everything you already do for yourself but miniaturized and with no time rest.

At least for me. They’ve changed maybe 5 of the hundreds of diapers, and that’s how far his role as “father” goes. He doesn’t play with them as a typical dad would and likes to hit, kick, and throw ‘soft’ objects at them can call it playing. It was hard to spot the lack of respect he had for women in general initially- or his complete indifference to children, but it all became more evident when I heard and saw him say to an associate who asked, “Is he your son?” And he said, “I cannot prove or deny it.” I became sick.

My young age entering this long affair shaped me into a mid-middle-aged pessimist with an ass as large as my idiocy.

It’s over between him and me. Unfortunately, we all have no choice but to live with each other. His approach to all of it is as cryptic and detached as his oral health, and it shows no sign of ceasing decay and eventually falling out. To be clear about this, his front tooth fell out, and he won’t go to the doctor because he’s afraid of the dentist. When asked, “will you go to the dentist to have that looked at?” His reply, no lie, is, “Shut the fuck up.” Case closed.

So yes, after 15 years of misery, I know full well when I restore my confidence to the fullest capacity that I will be wiser and triumphant in most of my pursuits. I will never be any man’s final girl. Flipping my little pickle is better than the immense hatred I’ve developed for myself over the years, accepting his abusive and controlling ways only to have no emotional progress. He’s made me cry on every single one of my birthdays, never remembers our anniversary, and shows his love by being the only one who cums. While I showed mine by being faithful, cooking and baking fantastic dishes, and letting him put it in my ass.

I am done with intimacy or attempting to find it. I am numb, and I never want to be touched again by any man.

I will make poor attempts at creating what true love is in my writing. Very, very poor attempts.