MelindaG's Journal

I have failed my son.  I lost my mind.  I cut for the first time in about 5½ years.  I just couldn't take it anymore.  Anyone who has ever cut knows what this is like.  Some people use drugs or alcohol to numb their pain.  For people like me, we cut.  Your body goes numb, and the cuts don't hurt.  It's like a release.  I do it because the pain inside of me is so great that Cutting makes me stop thinking about it.  I don't like to cut, my arms are full of scars- you wouldn't notice them unless I pointed them out,  47 on my left arm, 6 on my right, and my wrists are so scarred from countless suicidal moments.  Do I want to die?  No.  Not at the moment, but there are times that I do.  I saw someone on here with a picture that said, "I hurt myself so that you can't."  (Or something along those lines...)  This is so very true. 

I know that everyone says to think of Jonathan if I feel this way.  I do.  I always do.  I adore my son.  I love him much more than can be said, and more than anyone who isn't a parent can imagine.  There is nothing I wouldn't do for him.  He is the sunrise and the sunset.  He is a beautiful autumn day.  He is not the rainbow, but the pot of gold at the end of it.  He's the beauty in a waterfall, and the blue of the sky.  He is ice cream with spinkles, and his smile is the cherry on top.  He may be thought of by some as 'abnormal' because he is autistic, but in my eyes, he is perfection.  I love his kisses, his hugs, his laughter, his smile.  I love his brown hair, brown eyes, his little nose, his ears- I love all of him from his head to his little toes.  He is the one I live for.  He is the one who person in this world who thinks I am perfect (don't tell him I'm not- he won't believe you anyway!)  My love for my son is stronger than anything, and the Lord himself couldn't change that. 

Today was the 'big moving day'.  We got alot done.  And, everyone showed up to help my parents.  My Uncle Larry, my Aunt Kitty, my brother, my cousin Nick, and Rob.  Even Jonathan helped out.  We all spent the day packing boxes, loading the furniture onto the truck, sorting out what they wanted to keep and what was staying.  But, even with all of us there working very hard, my dad still INSISTED on doing stuff too.  All I wanted was for him to just sit down and relax.  Let us do all of the hard work.  He refused.  And, when Rob and I left the new house tonight to go back home, my dad's foot and leg were so swollen.  I am so mad at him for doing this.  I shouldn't be, but I am.

As for Rob and I...    I don't know.  He doesn't ACT like he loves me.  He says he couldn't care less if I left.  But, on the way home tonight, he said, "You know I care."  How?  How do I know that when all he has done is lie to my face, break promises, and continues to buy porn?  How am I supposed to know that he cares when he hits me so hard?  Yesterday, he was KICKING me while I was on the floor cowering!  And I am supposed to KNOW that he cares???  Seriously- does that make ANY SENSE AT ALL???  It doesn't make sense to me either.  He doesn't even do anything to show me that he loves me.  This morning, he broke ANOTHER  one of our plates.  We're running out of those.  There's not many left.  He broke it by throwing it between the wall and the kitchen faucet.  He was mad because he couldn't find a fork.  Stupid reason to break a plate, if you ask me.  And, guess who has to clean it up?  You guessed it.  ME!!!  And, when he's in a good mood (which isn't often), he thinks that grabbing my behind is showing me that he loves me.  I let him do it- it doesn't bother me, but it certainly doesn't translate to, "I love you and I care about you."  Not at all. 

So, here I sit, depressed and angry at the world.  I have to leave to get Jonathan some school clothes.  It's 11pm, and I have to go to Super K because they're open 24 hours.  His first day is tomorrow, and they have a dress code.  Only blue or black dress pants, and a blue or white polo shirt.  I didn't find out until Wednesday that he had to wear that, and with my parents moving, I just haven't had time.  So, I am exhausted and sore, and I have to still go out and buy clothes. 

Why can't I just have a normal, happy life?  When did I become the abused wife who is so unloved and unwanted by her husband???  When did I become the wife of a porn addict??  WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?????