When I was younger all I wanted to be was a house wife. I wanted to wake up everyday next to my perfect husband who is a mechanic, make his meals, clean the house, and kid wrangle. 'Till this day that is still all I want. I guess it's because I still believe marriage is sacred and unbreakable and that person that I marry will always love me. Deep down I know that is not the case at all. But I still like to pretend that life is perfect and no one would ever hurt me. I also like to pretend I'm not broken, that I'm not sick and unhappy. And the more I try to shove out the pain the more it runs back and bites me. I keep building walls hoping my pain will bounce off but it finds a way to slip through the cracks of the bricks. I want to wake up one day and feel healthy and alive. I've feel so dead and hopeless for the first time in my life. I hate it. I hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it. I guess the house wife thing is just a reflection of what my perfect life would be. I would go about my day pretending my sadness wasn't killing me, because that's what I am use to. I would stand in my kitten heals and wrap dress crying in the cookie dough while my kids run around my feet. When my husband comes home with his grease stained clothes and hands, he'll take me by the waist and kiss me, which will make me forget why I hate my life. While I'm making dinner he'll be out in the yard playing catch with our son and our daughter will be swinging and watching them, while the sun sets behind my perfect family. And then I'll wake up the next day and do it all over again except every Wednesday I'll have therapy while Jr and Sally have soccer and ballet practice.
What will really happen? I'll end up with some deadbeat who beats the shit out of me and tells me i'm ulgy, fat, and stupid. And I'll put up with it because that's what I do. I deal with everyone's shit, I take it. I take the abuse. I'd take it. I pretend it was perfect because that's what I do. I'll still be at Old Navy making absolutely no money, and have ten horribly behaved kids.
Sometimes I also wonder why I let myself believe stuff like the deadbeat boyfriend thing. I know how wonderful I am, and not in a self centered way. I know my life is valued and that I am loved. I know someday I will marry my mechanic, we'll have kids and a dog named Chester or Winnifred or something along those lines. One day I will be happy, healthy, and loved. Until then I guess I need to find my own way out of this rut. I can't be helped out. I will over come this battle with demons. I will be victorious.
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