Love n misery

I woke up to the sounds of my parents quarrelling. I don’t know what it was about, but I woke up and could immediately understand that it was serious. My mom was crying silently and dad was saying mean things to make her cry more. This was a long time ago but I still have the memory of this day in my mind. I have witnessed this kind of situations again and again in my growing years. I have seen the helpless tears streaming down my mom’s face. I have seen the anger in my dad’s voice and the destruction that my dad’s mean words and cruel statements would cause on my mom. He raised his hand on her occasionally as a last resort to “control her”. I grew up fearing these times. There would be patches of calm and then something would happen to disrupt the calm. I often wondered if everyone’s parents fought like mine did. The period after my father married again for the second time was the worst. My stepmom was a feisty woman with independent thoughts. Too strong for my father’s liking. He liked them mute, who cooked and cleaned. This is an unfair judgement of my dad I agree. The beginning of the storm was when my dad thought my stepmom was having an affair with her brother in law. I don’t know if this was a true assessment or just figment of his minds imagination. But the fight was extremely bitter and loud, hitting, gouging and all kinds of violence was witnessed in this time. I was a 15yr old girl at this time. I had lost my mom just a year ago and I was destroyed emotionally. These instances of domestic violence left a deep remark on my mind. I dreaded these times. I can feel the dread even now if I just think back about those moments. Long story short, I hated it. I hated every time my dad raised his voice and silenced my mom even though she may have had the right argument or opinion. I hated the moments when my dad used his strength to quite her down or when just because she is his wife he had a right to say mean and insulting things to her. I plain hated it.

With all this nonsense in my daily domestic early life, I always dreamed of having a loving husband who “would never” fight or treat me the way my dad treated my mom.

Fast forward to today. I am 41yrs old now, I have 2 darling boys and am married to a very nice man. Did I find my dream guy? I may have. Does he fight with me? Yes he does. Does he treat me badly? Umm no.

So what’s my issue and why am I writing this sob story? My issue is the “dream” part. I grew up with the stupid ass story of happily ever after. I was blind and naive to think that there is a stupid ass prince out there who would fucking come and save me. I was dumb enough to think that someone would love me enough so I can forget my nightmares. My night mares are my past and they are gone. Except the fact that I still have the dread in the pit of my tummy when my hubby starts a fight with me or something I do pisses him off to start his rant on how imperfect his life is. I become the little girl in the parent’s bedroom who woke up to the sounds of her parents quarrelling every time, every fucking time he and I have this arguments when I am supposed to listen to his accusations and keep my mouth shut. I can’t cry as it would make me look like a victim. I can’t argue as it would fuel the fight. Since he is the guy he is allowed to be egoistic and can say things in the moment of anger. Since I am the dumbass wife I should suck it up and take it. I can’t apologize because it will make him look bad, I can’t fucking do anything right from driving, living, pooping, breathing, parenting, cooking, you-name-it-that-thing.

After all this time why do I still go through with it? Because I am better off with a known devil than with an unknown god. Relationships are hard and they need work. Relationships are not easy. Even with the prince charming it would not be easy. Life is hard. Love is hard. All the things worth pursuing are hard. How long can I last? I don’t know. Frankly I don’t care, my life and my future are in my god’s hands, and he surely has a reason for doing all this. Perhaps he is sending a message to me with all this drama. Whatever it is my heart is broken. It’s blown into million pieces. I have stopped trying to glue them together. I have started to accept my broken parts. I won’t let anyone else in to it and won’t give the power to anyone else to ever hurt me the way love did/does.

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