Mom life?
How do I even begin to start this… I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling alone, I’m tired of the fighting, the bickering, the collapse of everything I’ve tried so hard to make. The kids fight nonstop the house is always a mess… I clean and clean and clean, give and give and give. Why? Why do I even try? Consistently being put down, called names, treated like I serve only the purposes of others. There’s no partnership when your partner belittles you and constantly reminds you that where you live is not a home let alone even your house. You just live there everyday trying your best to stay on top of the laundry, the dishes, the dinners, the appointments, the tears, the groceries, and so on. Why do I do all of this for a place that isn’t mine? Why do I let people treat me like shit? Why can’t anyone actually love me for me. Maybe I am the problem… I think I’m a decent person and I may not be the best mom but god damnit I have tried my hardest. I try to hold this house together that isn’t even mine. Knowing at any point all the work and time and effort I have put into this house could be taken away at the drop of a hat. No stability no guarantee but everyday I do my best. And it just is not enough. My kids fight, their dad doesn’t acknowledge us, I feel like I’m drowning and no one seems to care let alone even notice. I haven’t cried because I was sad in so long the tears just keep flowing. I’m tired of feeling broken, I’m tired of feeling like everything I do is just a waste of time. I put 100% into everything and no one even cares. I know I snap and get mad, but I wouldn’t if I just had a life raft someone to help me and maybe even hold me when things are feeling really heavy. I needed a partner but I got someone who isn’t even present ninety five percent of the time. Comes home angry and pissed off and I feel like I’m alone in all of this. I wanted a partner not a paycheck or someone who allows me to have a roof over my head. By the time my kids are 18 I’m sure I’ll be all but dead from the stress and depression I have holding me. I pray that isn’t so but sometimes I wonder if I did die; how would everyone get on without me? Am I just here for the chores and the kids? Would anyone even notice I was gone? Or would it take the laundry piling up or the dishes until someone would notice the worth I had when I was here? Who knows, and I’ll probably never know. It’d be nice to know I was worth something to someone when they were everything to me.