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I’m now 9 months after D-Day, and let me tell you, I AM OVER IT.
I am sick of everything. Sick of feeling like nothing’s getting better. Sick of feeling like I HAVE to be happy. Sick of everyday shit.
I feel beaten, exhausted, and completely dead inside.
I so want to stick around and raise my family in a mum-dad environment, but it seems less and less likely every day.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I hate my husband. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to be around him. I don’t want to talk to him. And I certainly don’t want to fuck him. He’s spent the last two nights sleeping on the couch after I kicked him out of our bed.
So what am I still doing here? Who the fuck knows.
Then I look at my babies and I remember. I am here for them.
My happiness is not the priority right now.