I used to have a home. An almost 4,000 sq ft home, right on the Chicago River with a bedroom that looked out onto the river. I used to have a home that was considered mine, that I cleaned, I decorated, and lived in for about 6 years. I used to have a husband. I used to have a husband that at one time was charming, sweet, and I had many good times and memories with. Memories together in that home. Even our dogs bonded and were inseparable. I used to believe all his lies and gave him respect and privacy. I used to have someone who I believed loved me and who I loved and would do anything for. I used to tell him that I didn’t care how much money we had or even if we lived in a cardboard box, I would still be happy because we were together.
I used to have someone who cared about me in general and cared about my health. I used to be able to crawl into bed at night and know that he would be coming up soon and that everything was going to be ok and tomorrow would just be a normal day. I used to try my hardest to be everything and to do everything he asked of me and then, one day, I just burned out. I used to have someone who I thought cared enough about me that even while he was away on a tropical island and I was in freezing cold Chicago weather he would want to at least call me or answer my calls. I used to think that after trying to save him, but instead getting myself into trouble, is something that anyone would do for someone they love. I used to think we had a plan, a plan that would fit both of our needs and provide us with a place to live that would make us happy. I used to think he cared what I thought. I used to think that all the letters he sent to me were real and that he meant what he said in them. I used to run my own life around his schedule because I loved him and wanted to make him happy. I used to think that keeping him happy was going to make sure he still loved me.
The keywords in all of this is I USED TO.
I no longer have that home, or something to call my own, that I can live in and be in charge of and clean and decorate. I no longer live in a place that I thought I was going to raise my children in, and am instead living back with my parents, on an inflatable mattress. I no longer believe what he says because I found out that it was all a pack of lies and all those times I thought he was cheating on me, he was. I no longer have that voice in my head telling me that he isn’t cheating on you, that’s just silly. I used to be able to call the bed “our bed”, but that was before I found a girl in it just a few days after I had packed a bag to stay with a friend until we figured out what we were going to do.
I no longer have a husband that cares about his wives health and has openly in court said that I have a “made up illness, that it doesn’t exist, I’m just a good actress, that bipolar disorder isn’t a disability” I no longer have a husband who flips out every time he sees a tear and creates a scene about it. I no longer have a husband who appreciated that I went to visit him for a week over Thanksgiving while the day before my plane took off, my doctor said I didn’t have the flu but was suffering from severe exhaustion and should be on bed rest and rest as much as possible, YET I STILL got on that plane and went because I missed him so much. I no longer have a husband who would care enough to want to visit me for the holidays but on several occasions made trips to the US not far from Chicago and could have stayed an extra day or two to visit me. I no longer have a husband who constantly says I don’t clean or that I bring nothing to the table, yet I was the one with the steady job and steady income and paying some of the utility bills and for other things around the house. I no longer have that steady job and can no longer continue my career in that field because I tried to save him. I no longer get to look out the bedroom window and get to see the snow fall or sit in the family room with the fireplace on and watching the snow fall. I no longer have a husband who used to get angry with me for doing my blogging and work for Ask A Bipolar because it didn’t bring any income. I no longer have to wonder what time he gets home and where was at because surely scuba lessons didn’t go that late, but now I found out where he was and it makes me hurt so bad because I loved him and would have done anything in the world for him but I was now just a glorified personal assistant to him.
I no longer believe that there are any truly good and honest men out there. I no longer believe in relationships. I no longer believe in love as I opened my heart once again and was burned. I no longer believe that I will ever be able to pick myself back up again and start over. I no longer believe in dreams because they never come true. I no longer believe that I can get better because of all of the things that I no longer have or believe.
Everyone keeps telling me that its going to be alright and that things will start looking up for me. That is a flat out lie. Things are NOT getting better, they just keep getting worse. I try to seek help in all the right directions but things always come out worse in the end. Hell, I even went into the hospital for 10 days and came out in worse shape that I was in when I originally went there. Where is the looking up part?? Where is the sunshine through the rain? I don’t see any. I have a forecast of dark ,hazy and cold and rainy projected for the next few years. When will I get MY break??? When will things begin going right for ME? Even some small positive things. I’m tired of no longer believing in dreams and love and getting better. Help me before I drown, if I haven’t drowned already (although if I had drowned I technically couldn’t have written this post, so, well, you get the gist.) I want to believe again, I want to believe again, I WANT TO BELIEVE AGAIN!!!
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