It made me cry in the car today when I thought of the past nine months and how difficult they had been. The one golden shining prize was the baby being born and this happy time of newness as a family.
A happy time that should be precious and memorable but instead has been ruined and filled with sadness.
Maybe for him it is all smoking related. His withdrawal and frustration is being taken out on us. He did have the nerve to blame me for not being supportive of him quitting, despite the fact he hasn't been supportive of me quitting, or giving birth or suffering with quinsy or struggling with breast feeding, hormones, fear of coping and not having a routine, retard ex-husband issues, anything and everything that is hitting me at the moment. I can hardly agree he has been even slightly supportive of me.
I intended on quoting from texts sent by him, to highlight with examples how hurtful things have been but I would only cry if I had to look back through them.
On occasion over the last 2 weeks I have been filled with hatred for him. Yet I seem to be the one that gives in, that makes an effort, that hugs him, that allows general chit chat.
I alternate between wanting to leave while he is working, to staying and making him tea. To trash his precious electrical belongings to try to affect him, but instead I wash and iron his clothes. I lay in bed crying a few nights ago, yet when I went out for food, I still brought him some. I want to go out and fuck someone else to hurt him, but he would probably just feel relieved.
Yet again, this morning I have cried twice because of him but have still text him to see what time his break is so I can take him a breakfast treat.
I'm pathetic. He hurts me and I do things that show him I am allowing him to continue doing it.
But I don't think I will forgive him for wrecking my special time over the last 2 weeks. Ever
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