My husband’s boots…

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I debated a lot about writing this post, but this is my life and this is my blog. It is cathartic and therapeutic to write. After crying all night long, and dealing with a very upset stomach due to my anxiety, talking with friends and family… I decided, I’m just going to bite the bullet and write.

Some history:

I had to quit my job as a house keeper because my sister needed her car back (I was borrowing it because she was kind enough to lend me some wheels for a year) and more importantly, my daughter had a horrific incident happen to her while she was under someone else’s care. I won’t go into details, but we agreed that the $50 I was bringing home each week (after daycare was paid for, and gas was accounted for) that it was not worth it for my sweet angel to have to suffer at the hands of someone else when I can be the one to take care of her. I did not discuss this online because I did not think I would ever have to justify why I am or am not working. (I know I still don’t, but for context maybe it’s good to just put it ALL out there, zero fucks given. Now I’m done sugar coating everything/covering up parts of my life to make people more comfortable.)

My husband graciously agreed and understood. He whole heartedly supported this decision and said that it was not a problem in the slightest. We always say that we may not have much, but we are rich in love under this roof. We truly feel beyond blessed. So, when my husband lost his job this spring, he turned around the very next day and got a new one. What I’m saying is, he busts his ass. Day in and day out to take care of his girls. His days are long, in all weathers he works. I can not honestly put into words how grateful I am for him. For his calm in the middle of a storm, for his rough hands and strong arms, proof of how hard he works, or even the dirt he brings in from his boots.

His work goes beyond being AT work, too. He comes home after a long day and plays with A, or cooks dinner when I am not able to. He helps me move the laundry, or scrub the floors. He supports both of us emotionally to great extents. I have PCOS, I also suffer from anxiety, depression, OCD, acute psychosis *under immense stress, I hallucinate giant cockroaches*, I’ve been sexually and emotionally abused, the list goes on and on and on. But still, my husband weathers my “crazy.” He is unconditionally loving and supportive during the worst of times. Yes, we argue. No, we are not perfect. But honestly, he is my fucking rock. Eight years strong, and I would not change a single thing, so long as I have him in my life.

For those who didn’t see, I was verbally abused last night by a family member online. This is not the first time that this has occurred, but it is the first time it was documented in the online world for everyone to see. I tried my hardest to stand my ground and state very clearly what I needed. I was called names, threatened, and my emotions were negated by this person. In addition to this drama, and my husband working* thirty hours in a 48 hour period, I was dealing with a sick child, I myself was suffering immense bleeding from my PCOS. I could barley WALK last night, I was in so much pain. I guess my point here is, You don’t KNOW everyone’s whole story, and everyone is fighting a battle that you know nothing about, so be kind, always. 

* By working, I mean R was digging holes into the ground and lifting 40 pound bolts and screwing them into a pipe, over and over and over and over again. For 30 hours. He worked a 16 hour day yesterday.

Honestly, I know that I have anxiety and that I am an extremely sensitive person. Trust me, I am always the first to call myself out! It’s in my Facebook Bio for crying out loud, “Overly sensitive, compassionate, optimist.” Seriously, I OWN it because I know my sensitivity and Extreme Emotions can be a lot to handle. That doesn’t make me a bad person, or any less of a person. It’s just simply who I am. Knowing this, I try to create boundaries quickly when I feel overwhelmed. I say what I need in that given moment and I pray that the other person is understanding enough to comply. Usually, it’s no problem. I learned last night that people can’t always deliver when I ask them to. I’ll own up to the fact that I had expectations and that I should have known better than to expect anything from anyone.

Moving forward, I will try my best to do better. To BE better. I will continue to respond in kind, and to be honest in what I am feeling and what I need. And I will not tolerate someone telling me that my emotions, or how I am feeling is wrong just because they do not agree with me. That’s just silly! It is my hope that we can get through this. I don’t know what made him so angry to begin with, and I don’t understand why he said he wasn’t angry after he called me names and made threats. To me, he is hurting deeply. I wish I could make it better for him. I wish I could FIX it and my heart breaks that I can’t make him look deep into himself and learn where his pain is coming from. Because all anger is, is fear. Fear of being hurt.  My heart goes out to him, but for now, I’ll be taking a break.

 

I’m all about self love and kindness, remember?

 

 

In good faith,

S.

 

Remember to be kind to yourself and if you or someone close to you is in serious distress or simply needs to talk to someone, please call the national suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or text 741741.

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