Email I didn’t send

Hi Mom-

I know you probably won’t want to hear my problems, but I’m feeling quite down and just need to talk to someone, I guess. I hope you don’t mind to much.

The money problem has gotten out of hand. I submitted a new claim for my tax credits back in February, they won’t give you an update for 3 weeks, so after the 3 weeks went by, I called to see what was happening. They told me a letter had been sent out, and I’d have to wait to receive that, so I waited. A full seven days after it was posted, I received it. Apparently I had done something on the claim to indicate to them that Lizzy is not a real person, and they wanted her birth certificate and passport. So, I sent that off, even overnighted it to them. They got it over two weeks ago, and I called them every day for over a week trying to get an update, which they wouldn’t give me. I received her documents back on Saturday, but still no word on the benefit.

Of course, I was relying on this benefit to pay the rent last month, and when it didn’t come through, I couldn’t pay the rent. The landlord turned up two days after the rent was due and was a complete prick, demanding to know where *his* money was! I explained to him what the problem was and that I was sure it would be sorted out within the week, as this was the guidance given to John when he went into one of the walk in centers to ask. I was in full panic mode last week and called the land lords office and spoke to one of the ladies there, told her what the problem was and as far as I knew it was just a case of verifying my daughter was a real person and then putting the claim through, but that they would not tell me anything else. I also told her when my housing benefit payments come through and that I was expecting one imminently, and would forward it to the landlord bank account as soon as I received it. She agreed, and as luck would have it, the payment came through the next day, so I went straight over to their bank and deposited it into their account. I told her the second payment for April would be made when the next housing benefit payment came through (I get two a month), and that the whole of Marchs rent would be paid as soon as the tax credit thing went through. She agreed this would be ok. (I havent had any other problems paying the rent the entire two years we’ve lived here!)

What’s worse is that everyone keeps asking me what I’ve done with Marchs housing benefit money. “Well, thats supposed to pay your rent, not the tax credit!”, and acting like I’m drinking it or putting it in my arm or something. The housing benefit comes in as two separate payments, I pay the rent as one payment. All the money goes in from the various sources throughout the month and it all goes out again. Do they think I’ve got fecking jars sitting around labelled with what the various bits of money are for?!

Well, the damn landlord turned up again today! Practically barged his way into the house and shouted at me, with the kids in the front room, that if I didn’t pay him by the end of the week, I’d be out! I was furious, what a jerk!!!! I told him I felt that was incredibly harsh, given I’d lived here two years and hadn’t had this trouble before, that I’d explained to him and the secretary what was happening, and I was doing everything I could to sort it out and that I had just made an agreed payment to him not 4 days ago! After that he stopped acting like such an evil little jerk, bit he was still being awful “We’re a business, we’ve got mortgages to pay!” So, what- throwing my family out and making us homeless over this issue is going to get you where? You’ll have to pay to get a court order to evict us, then redecorate the house, clean the carpets, buy new appliances, plus put it on the market and get what? In this market, probably much less than what we are paying for it! How much are you going to be making off of it during that wait? What a jerk.

So, midnight has come and gone, all our money is gone and we are in the negatives again. Bank charges, groceries, etc. There wasn’t much there, anyway. If the tax credit money was going through today, it would have hit the account at midnight. (The tax credit money is about £1k a month, and is usually backdated three months, so if it ever comes through, it will be… very helpful) I’m so worried and scared and so out of options. John appealed losing his job and they are investigating, officially he is no longer with the company, but apparently he should be getting paid while the investigation is being completed. That would help, but no guarantee of anything. I just can’t believe it’s gotten to this point.

I feel like such a worthless individual. I’ve worked so hard, have tried so hard to do the right things and provide for my kids and I just can’t seem to get it right. Nothing is ever right, it’s like the story of my life. I feel like walking into the sea and just letting it swallow me. These children are better off without me, surely I’m just destroying their lives? I keep trying to have faith in the universe, and tell myself that it will provide, but… it’s not providing, or at least I can’t see it.

I know it’s all self pity and stupidity, but I don’t even care anymore.

As a last ditch effort to save us from becoming homeless I’ve decided I have no option left but to advertise myself as an escort. If I get any decent business, it would be cash in hand & help immensely. Tomorrow is my first official day, so hopefully the phone rings.

I’m sorry to lay this on you, I know it’s all dark and horrid. I just, can’t keep it bottled up, I keep bursting into tears all the time and just really attacking John with it, and he is so weak and fucked up already, he can’t deal with it. I can’t eat and can’t sleep and I’m so on edge and terribly impatient with the children. I just needed someone to talk to, someone I could be open and honest with.

Please don’t tell anyone about this, especially anyone in the family. Love you and hope you’re well, thanks for reading this.

Me

Fuck That.

We argued today, he and I. It doesnt much matter what it was about. Only that I suggested he try something, he told me he didn’t think it would work, and I pointed out that his statement was wrong, that he was, perhaps over thinking it.

He didn’t want to listen and so he offered his opinion again. I thought about it, turned it over in my head and came to the same conclusion. Tried to explain it a different way. We both became frustrated. The worst part is that he always ends up angry, emotional. I always turn into the bad guy. If I tell him that I feel he is completely discounting my knowledge and my opinion, even patronizing me, he will tell me that I do nothing but tell him he’s wrong. That all I ever do is ask him his opinion, just so I can shoot it down. I told him during this argument that he was wrong. Not in a horrible, nasty way. Not as a means of putting him down, it was more just matter of fact.  “Oh, no- that’s wrong, actually it’s this.” That sort of thing.

For this I was punished. He ended up sobbing on the couch, head in hands. Accused me of being “uppity”, and then said “Well, if I wasn’t suicidal before, after talking to you I sure am now!” I don’t know why this hurt me so much. This is fairly standard stuff with him. He is passive aggressive and can’t deal with any confrontation, so whenever things get tense, he turns into a ball of tears that simply lashes out.

But, these words hurt. He said that talking to me made him feel suicidal. He called me uppity.  I’m not uppity. But, I was badly bullied as a kid. I’m terrified of people, and so I don’t make friends easily. When I do make friends, I usually screw it up because I am so awkward and never know what to say or do.  I use “big words”, and it puts people off, I like to talk about politics and books and interesting stuff and it seems that nobody else wants to talk about this stuff.  So, I am as terrified of being seen as uppity as I am of just talking to people. It just seemed like a really mean thing to say. I won’t even get into the suicidal stuff. Can you just imagine being told that by your spouse, who professes their love for you regularly?

I’m not mean to him. I get frustrated and I have said things once or twice that I’ve regretted. But, I am never just so flat out mean to him. He destroyed me. I’ve got a social services planning meeting next week, with all those fucking important people, who know the worst possible secret you could have, and some see me every day.  People who look at me and judge me, because of what he did and my decision to stay married to him. People who are just waiting for me to fuck up, waiting for me to just fall apart completely so they can snatch my children away. I still cry over what he did. Not just occasionally, frequently. He destroyed me, but yet I spent the better part of a year, being there for him, comforting him, sorting things out for him.

And he calls me uppity? Says that shit about suicide? Because I pointed out that his assessment was incorrect. How is that right? How is that fair? I don’t deserve that kind of bullshit. Do you know what, though? I didn’t cry. I wanted to, I thought for sure I was going to, but I didn’t. I just felt really angry instead. Remember what I said about being bullied as a kid? Well, that instilled in me a tremendous amount of self doubt. Which means that every time we have one of these arguments, and he starts laying all this shit on me about not wanting to hear his opinion, etc. I immediately worry that I have been a jerk, that maybe I really have discounted his viewpoint. To the point that even when I’m fairly sure I havent done anything wrong, if I find anything I could have done better, I apologize to him.

I don’t get that same respect. Ever. Fuck that. I was angry. I’m sick of crying because he hurts me. Sometimes I almost wish that he would hurt me physically as well, because at least then it would be real. Not this fake nicey nicey shit he feeds me.  One minute he’s tucking me into bed and fetching me drinks and slobbering all over my tits and the next he’s telling me I’m fucking uppity and talking to me makes him feel suicidal? Fuck that. Be a scumbag or be a sweetheart, you can’t be both.

Fuck That. Fuck That. Fuck That.

penny drop

I’m so sick of crying. I seem to spend most of my time either worrying or crying or snapping at the children because I’m exhausted after spending the majority of the day worrying or crying.

I was laying in bed masturbating and listening to this song and fantasising about laying naked on a hot sandy beach with only the sea for company and not a single person for hundreds of miles around me.  Once I had finished and my hand fell away and my leg slid back down onto the bed, I found myself staring at my husbands cd collection. I started to think about that beach. How one day I would finally be successful and rich and I would simply say to my children (who will be grown by then, I’m sure) “I’m off on holiday! Here is the number of the hotel I will be staying at.” And I will give my husband many dollars/pounds/euros whatever and tell him to go on holiday wherever he’d like because I was going on holiday by myself. Also, I am always skinny in these fantasies.

This was such a lovely, perfect thought. Until I sadly realized that I am the only one who would like this. I would hop on a plane, fly to Jamaica and spend two weeks lying  on a beach, drinking cocktails and being pampered. He would drive to some campground and spend a week in a tent, probably being miserable. Additionally, he would be deeply hurt that I would not want to be with him, because he would only want to go on holiday with me.

This made me cry. For a new reason. Not for anger at what he’d done, not out of fear of the future, not out of frustration or pain. I cried because I’ve lost that. The person I loved, the person who I wanted to always be with, who I would never have wanted to go anywhere without, he is gone to me now. I cried because I no longer have love. It seems so silly and stupid given everything else, but in that moment, it was such a cold, empty feeling. He may love me, he may always love me, but I have no love left for him. That is heartbreaking to me. I loved him so much, people.  He was quirky and difficult but he was funny and creative and put me on a pedestal and nothing made me happier, more comforted, more safe than enveloping myself into his arms, into his self and being part of him.  Now, that is the last place I ever want to be. And I grieve for it, I suppose.

Hate & Loathing, and me without any drugs.

I used to love him. He is much older than me, but that never bothered me. He went grey long before I met him, early, in his twenties. That never bothered me, either. I loved his hair, I thought it suited him. I’ve never talked about his attractiveness with anyone else, but I always thought he was very handsome. I still do. His blue eyes are like icicles and their coolness melts me.  He has the most wonderful cheekbones, and I have always loved his arms, of all things.

I didn’t know how I felt about him anymore, only that out of necessity I was not divorcing him, not out of love. Did that mean I no longer loved him? As he spends more time with us, gearing up toward coming home permanently, I find that more and more I think “I hate him”.  I hate his dishevelled hair that he never brushes, and only cuts when I insist and do it for him. I hate how trying to correct a simple misunderstanding, or ask a simple question becomes a task on par with climbing everest with no guide and no oxygen.  I hate how he kept secrets from me, that I only ever knew about because I had stumbled upon them at first and later went looking for. I hate how when all I want is simple sex, love making if you will, he needs me to cater for some stupid fetish that disgusts me. I hate how he crawls into the bed that has been mine alone for over a year and takes over the majority of it, unintentionally confining me to a small pocket with half my ass hanging over the side. I hate how he sweats profusely at night, soaking the pillows and making the whole room smell of it. I hate how he will bitch if the dishes don’t get washed for three days in a row- yet for three days in a row he will sit on his ass watching tv after dinner, not washing dishes. I hate how I do a million things every day, and still don’t get through everything and feel guilty, yet he can hardly manage a 5 item to do list and even then it’s only with me hassling him about it.  All I can think is “I hate, I hate”, when previously these things were barely on my radar, with the worst being a slight annoyance. I loved him before and perhaps that made up for his flaws? Or did it simply mean I couldn’t see his them?

He is still the same devoted husband, but now he is less my loyal prince and more a desperate, needy puppy dog. One that I want to kick. (And I’d never kick a puppy.) I find myself snapping at him constantly, hardly able to keep the annoyance from creeping into my voice. I wonder how long I will be able to keep this act up? How many times will I be able to say “I love you, don’t worry”, when he is feeling sad and miserable for himself? If he had not lost his job, and were still able to support the family financially, would I feel the same way as I do, now?

 

loss

They came at midnight. There were two of them, a man and a woman. I don’t think they were very far along in their careers, novices still. They acted very courteous and professional, as they rooted through my belongings. They even kindly acted like they couldn’t hear me when I finally broke down and sobbed over the phone to my mother, 5272 miles away. I asked her to come, she said she couldn’t.

They took the computer, with various discs and other items. I had known they’d be coming and had made some effort to transfer various important documents and pictures to email accounts, but there are thousands of pictures, and  simply not enough time. I signed a waiver and just like that- it was gone. They told me I’d get it back. After. That was a year ago.

Now they tell me I may not get it back. They said they would *try*, but that was months ago. I’ve heard nothing and now… I fear they are gone. My youngest childs baby pictures, 5 years of family snapshots and vacation and holiday pictures.  Gone.

There have been many many hard points during the last 12 months, and that, I think is the hardest. I can cope with so much adversity. I can keep fighting to keep living forever if I need to. But, knowing I might not ever see those pictures again, fills me with such grief and sadness. Even resentment, anger, and hate. This was not my fault. I did nothing to deserve this. He did this to me. And, oh, how I despise him for it.