I'm really tired. I'm severely exhausted and I can't get myself to go take a shower or even to change into clean clothes. My female parts hurt and that is making me more tired, perhaps because I'm more and more depressed. I hate that I was so sick, so so so very sick, and it ruined my relationship and now I'm NOT sick. Not sick means the baby isn't growing and the hormones aren't elevating like they should. Being so tired means my body is shutting down in response to everything and I feel like just closing myself into a box and never coming out. Two babies in one year. So close together. I am now a mother of at least four, but only have one here to show for it. I don't know how much more my poor brain can take. How hard is it to make a nice life for my daughter and I? How hard is it to be happy? No matter how hard you try, how picky you are with your trust, or how often you question motives... life just decides to be tough. I see so many people with lives that aren't as tough. It drives me crazy to think that I can put myself out there, be SOMEONE to two little kids, to a man, and most importantly to my daughter; and yet here I am. Again. My mind just slowly shutting down. I don't think I've had a genuine thought process since July. I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of being taken advantage of, and I'm really truly tired of letting myself fall so short in my daughter's eyes. I just want things to work out. I want to be happy. I want to be loved. And I don't want it to be short term. I don't want someone to decide I'm not good enough because I'm sick and can't vacuum. Or because I make Kraft Mac' N' Cheese instead of a real dinner because food makes me vomit. I just want to be loved for me. Me. I hate that I feel so close to a nervous breakdown. I can close my eyes and see the picture of that hand holding mine fade away so fast... all I can hear are the words and the insults and the deafening silence. Me trying to gain leverage by eventually insulting back. My daughter crying. Whatever happened to my happily ever after? I gave up my life for someone and their kids, and what do I have to show for it? A heart torn in two and bleeding, two miscarriages, a misplaced daughter, a suitcase full of clothes, and a mind that's on the brink. It shouldn't be that way. I should be remembering all of the happy times. Instead, all of the happy times are tainted with the horrible names and the insults and the berating.
Why can't I just be happy?
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