Thursday, February 4, 2010

Hello?!?!?! Is this thing on? Can anyone hear me?

So, as a wife and mother I am constantly repeating myself. It seems as I can be having an entire conversation with my husband or my children and within seconds they have no clue what I just said. This causes serious frustration on my part. I mean I swear they were standing right in front of me during the entire conversation. The even conversed back with me. So, how come it is when I ask a question about what was just said I get the, "What are you talking about?" look. Are you serious people? Did you seriously not hear a word I just said? I could of swore you did because you made responses to me as if you were actually a part of the conversation. I'm sorry...my mistake. I thought you had just a little bit of sense, but I guess I was wrong. Just the other day my husband walks into the bathroom to take a shower. I look right at him and tell him that I already have his towels out and ready for him. He responds with a thank you and then continues to open up the cabinet and get out yet another set of towels. It wouldn't be so bad if that was the first time that had happened, but it wasn't even the first time that week it happened! He is constantly doing that to me. I tell him something, he responds as if he understands, but then his actions shows that he has no clue what I just said. I cannot live like this. I'm frustrated and tired. I feel disrespected and not worthy. It honestly hurts my feelings. It seriously angers me. It makes me want to call it quits. It makes me think, "I'm done!"

Monday, February 1, 2010

Growing Up

Growing up I never felt like I belonged. I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Even with my own family. Especially with my own family. I always felt that I wasn't pretty enough or smart enough. I cried a lot growing up. I was always so clumsy. It seemed as though I could never do anything right. What I did was never good enough. My father was a very hard man to please. He always made me feel less than important. The funny thing is I don't remember my dad ever having a job while I was growing up. He was either at home or at the bar drinking. When he did finally come home from drinking I never knew if he was going to be the happy drunk or the mean drunk. His mood was always a mystery. I hated living like that. I was always so scared of him. He was always so tough on me. He would say all kinds of mean and hurtful things to me. His reasoning was to make me try harder. Well, let me tell you something if someone feels that no matter how hard they work they will always be a failure to you then they just stop trying. I mean if it is mission impossible then why continue, right? As I got a little older I started getting the courage to speak up to him. That only made matters worse though. In my mind at least I was getting a little bit of pay back for how he made me feel. I remember one particular incident when he was yelling at me about something and I had finally had enough. I started yelling back how that chair he was sitting in was my moms...not his, that coke he was drinking was my moms...not his...the house he is living in is my moms...no his. I flat out told him that because he didn't work he didn't own a damn thing. He laughed and went back to his bedroom and slammed the door. My first thought was I GOT HIM!! HA HA! I GOT HIM!! Looking back I feel horrible for saying those things, but at the time it felt right. It felt like it needed to be said. Of course it didn't make him go out and get a job...just like him saying those cruel things to me didn't make me try harder. Ain't life funny?!?!?!