Sometimes I wonder just how different my life would have been if I would have made different decisions.
I started dating my husband at 20.
We married by 23.
I never had my carefree 20’s, never explored myself.
I never got an apartment with a friend and lived in the city (Manhattan).
I never got to really date.
I never got to take a crazy trip with friends.
I think about those things- A LOT.
I know that there is no sense in that at all.
But nonetheless, I still do.
I always felt mature for my age- ever since I was a little girl.
But in truth, I never really lived life.
Sometimes I feel like I could have waited.
I could have waited to date, to marry.
When I was dating my husband, I loved him so much. I couldnt imagine NOT being with him. He was too much of a good catch for me to give up. He was a good man.
And he still is.. it’s just life got in the way.
We fight- ALL THE TIME.
We are two different people, and having twins just magnifies that. They say that parents of multiples have a 75% divorce rate.
But we are too stubborn to give up.
We say it’s just a phase.
The toddler years are FUCKING hard.
Every time I say “no” to my girls, or yell.. I hear my mothers voice emanating from my mouth.
And if you know me, that is the WORST possible thing ever.
I have been in a funk lately.
I don’t let on.
Every time I see my therapist, I cry.
ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
EVERY WEEK- Monday’s at 12:00pm.
She says that she thinks medication would do my good.
I can’t imagine having to take happy pills.
My brother takes those. I am not my brother.
I had a childhood that was less than fairy tale.
No, I wasnt physically or sexually abused.
No, I wasnt poor or living on the streets.
I was just always berated.
I never truly understood why it was that my brother was treated so well, while I wasn’t.
I only now realize that it was because he was different. Asperger’s is what I think he has. He has never been diagnosed, but he is definitely textbook.
Of course, that doesnt make up for years of being a second class citizen in my own home.
I remember as a child, my mother would often bring special snacks for my brother to his room- and when I asked why she didnt bring me some, she would answer “well, you know your brother wont get anything for himself- and I know you will”
I REMEMBER so clearly often crying the words “Nobody Loves Me” – when I would be ganged up on by my family.
No one ever walked into my room and said that it wasn’t true.. that they did love me. I needed to hear it at those times, but NEVER did.
WHAT KIND OF PARENT lets their kids cry those words and doesn’t come in to console them???
A father that was withholding, a mother that was a let down.
Even though I know all of this today, as an adult- it doesn’t make it any easier.
My father was beaten as child. My grandfather was an alcoholic and would mentally abuse my grandmother. My father stuck up fro his mother and suffered the consequences- often. He would be locked in a dark room and made to sleep on the floor. A rat bit him in the face and he still has the scar.
So to my father- by him providing for us, and NOT abusing us- HE WAS being the best father he could be. And I have to respect him for that- even though I never really felt as though I had a father. Being an absent father doesnt make it any better I guess.
I am rambling.
But at the end of the day.. I KNOW I SHOULD be happy.
I have two healthy daughters.
I have a good husband.
I have a job (albeit I am living in massive debt)
I dont have a job that I love, and I dont get to see my kids.
I am just miserable lately.
I try to fill that void with pretty clothes.
If the outside is put together, maybe the inside will be as well?
Because right now, I am hanging by a thin rope.
I may just need those happy pills.