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That's Not Important, now.

oh, moment is over.

Today I woke up from a bad dream.
It’s fading now but I remember being somewhere with people I sort of recognize as people in my past. I think we were playing softball or something… on a field or or a street. I remember being out voted, talked down or something and I was angry and shouting. I was being obstinate and talking back. My sister was there, for some reason… probably because I argued with her yesterday about how I hate all men and she countered with “not all men, right?” and I stuck to my statement of yes, all men. I don’t necessarily mean all men, but I find more often than not, yes. That’s not important though.
I left, everyone left and the game was over, with me still pissed off and angry. My sister was gone, don’t know where. I heard a former manager talking about me, it was probably negative, as I walked down a street to get home. I called out to her “are you talking shit, bitch” and in my memory, it was playful but I doubt that’s how it would have been interpreted. As I continued on my course I got a staticy call from my sister, she had gotten on the train (why, I don’t know) and didn’t get off the right stop. She was in Birmingham. I panicked and started running back to the station, all the while saying she deserved it because she sided with the others over me. I was on the phone with her, trying to figure out where she was when I woke up.
I don’t know what the hell that dream was about but I woke up angry and sad. I felt bad for my sister in the dream, even though she’s 25 and can take care of herself. And so I laid in bed thinking about how awful of a person I am and it makes sense that people around me don’t stay around me for long. My manager in my dream didn’t like me and didn’t like me in real life either. People rarely do, it seems. I don’t know how to be the kind of person others like and it wrecks me.
Husband was a wake when I got up, still sitting on the couch. He’s been home all week, work stuff has worked out for him that way, and it’s getting on my nerves. I’m angry at him again. It feels like it never ends with me and that it’s my fault that I’m always so angry at him. I just keep feeling like his mother or maid and not his wife. For 3 days I left the laundry on the couch to see if he would put it away. I finally put it away yesterday. I hate when he’s home like this. It serves as a reminder that he does so little around the house, even just basic cleaning or putting stuff away escapes him.
Yesterday I was sick, felt awful and laid in bed hating myself and hating him.
Today I asked myself, how long can I keep doing this?
His last deployment I swore I couldn’t, wouldn’t, stay if things didn’t change. Nothing changed. Nothing ever changes. I don’t know what to do. I do this to myself. I say something to him but I play it off and defuse it. I think part of me likes feeling like a martyr, a strong but sad wife or something. But another part of me thinks I deserve better. Another part of me still thinks that it’s stupid that I think I deserve better. I know if I leave him, I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. I’ll have nothing and no one.
Most days I think I should learn how to accept things as they are and stop being like this. Stop thinking that it should be better. After more than a decade of marriage, what makes me think that I deserve anything?
I don’t think I communicate with him what I want but I don’t know how to. I just want him to know that when there are dishes in the sink, clean them. If there is laundry in the dryer, take it out and put it away. Carpet dirty? CLEAN IT. All of that goes unnoticed by him and that is my largest contribution to the household and it makes me think that what I do doesn’t matter. It’s weird, I don’t want him to do the things I do because it would take away from my value but I don’t want him to not see what I do, because then I have no value.
I’m valueless. I don’t matter.
This is when I start thinking that if I ceased to exist, no one would notice.
I’ve told my mother more than once I don’t worry about what would happen if my marriage ended, I only need to look out for myself. But I would have nothing if my marriage ended. I would be without all that is around me.
I was thinking about that a lot today while I made breakfast, my choice to cook for the both of use (I’m sure he’d be quick to mention that), what would I do if I left? I have no job, no skills, no money… nothing. I would move in with my mother and hope to find a job out there, somewhere. I can hope that in a few months or so I would be able to move out and live alone, for the first time in my life, on my own dime. I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be alone.
So I stay. I write angry blog posts and cry over dishes and get angry because he either notices and doesn’t care (or doesn’t know what to say and thus making me think he doesn’t care) or doesn’t notice. I think I need to start taking care of myself, getting my shit together and getting a job so I can be ready if, or when, I decide I can’t do this any more.
It’s probably just me, though. I’ll probably never leave.

I started reading Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

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