Valentine's Day I'm not a big fan. For me, it's one of the more depressing days of the year. Maybe it's because for some reason I always hope *this* will be the year I'm acknowledged as my husbands 'love' in some way. It's beyond me why I even care. This man (& I use the term man loosely) doesn't care about anything but himself. He has himself raised up on his self made pedestal that is forever unreachable. He refers to himself as 'a God', and sadly seems to believe that he is! I don't understand what it is that makes me still think ,at times, there is any hope that he'll change. I don't deny that I have mental health and emotional issues, but he has issues MUCH bigger than mine...only he doesn't acknowledge them.
Why did I come back? I ask myself that question nearly every day. I'm not happy with him in any way. I'm miserable. I can't stand the sight of him. His touch makes me cringe and feel nauseas. Trying to have a conversation with him is like trying to converse with a sack of potatoes. In all seriousness, I strongly suspect he has some mental retardation. I hope nobody takes that the wrong way. I work with mentally disabled clients that I adore, but I have noticed some striking resemblances in behaviors and thought processes in some of my clients and my husband. My husband has never been tested or has any diagnosis, that I'm aware of, but his family is VERY secretive about...well, everything. I know what I'm saying is hard to truly understand unless you were to actually meet him. I just don't know.... Maybe it's just me searching for what's "wrong" with him. Maybe I'm just trying to justify his behaviors to myself in a way that doesn't make him just a purely evil person.
I just long to be HAPPY, yet, I'm not even sure what that really means! I honestly can't recall NOT being depressed. Even thinking back to as a small child. My life was full of fear and confusion and sadness. I never understood the things that happened. I still don't.
I remember in school being told to make these Valentine (& Mother's Day) cards and things saying how much I loved my parents, but I always wondered how could I love them? At the time, I was young enough to think every child's life was similar to mine. I believed every father touched his child in 'that' way. I believed every mother watched. I believed every parent spent a great deal of time passed out or high on drugs. I believed my feelings of shame and guilt and disgust meant there was something wrong with ME...because that's what I had been taught to believe. That's the only life I knew.
I just want this day to be over with and forgotten!