I have never told anyone and my husband hasn't either- even the women
he has slept with before me. My husband has one ball. Undescended
testicle that was removed as a child. He is not very good at sex and
has very little sex drive. I always wonder if the two are
connected. I don't question his sexuality, and I feel very
attractive- I just never get the "hotness" that I did with other
men. Maybe that's a good thing since we have two kids- I'm too busy
to have sex all the time. But things just feel kind of blah between
You don't know it yet, but I made another appt with a divorce lawyer. If you don't actually go to a therapist like you said you would, then I'm going to divorce you. I'll use the porn and looking up local erotic services against you so you'll have to pay all of the legal fees also. Being with you is like water torture, over time you just get so worn out that you give up. I should've thrown you out of the house instead of me leaving. I feel numb when I'm around you. You need to grow up, be a man, stop your FUCKING whining, and be a father instead of being on the laptop and watching tv. The only time you interact with our son is to tell him to be quiet and to leave you alone. I can't leave him alone with you because you will 'forget' to feed him, thank God he's old enough to get something to eat by himself.
You being 'caught' and quitting your job forced me into a situation I was against from the first time you mentioned it. I can't stand you anymore and you'll get divorce papers for our anniversary next month.
I want another baby....
I got my tubes tied because you didn't want anymore kids and I told you I was fine with that...
They say you never regret the kids you have, just the ones you don't.
You have no idea.
I am consumed by belated grief over the fact that the man I wanted to marry eleven years ago didn't want to marry me. I do not see any point in sharing this information with you, seeing as how it's completely inactionable, but that's why I'm acting like a big weirdo.
There are times when I want to just run away and hide...But I cant..There are times when I want to just scream at you to shut up...But I cant..There are times when I want to tell you that I cant do this anymore...But I cant..I still love you..Thats why I cant...I cant tell you Im a lesbian..I cant tell you that I love her more than you..I cant do that to you...You saved me when no one else would..You brought me out of the darkness that threatened to consume me..How selfish would I be to tell you that I cant love you like you want anymore?...I cant do it..So I will wait..I will hold on to my deepest secrets..I cant hurt you..I cant smash your dreams...So I will pretend...I cant help that I love her more than you..I cant help that she makes me happier than you..It was nothing you did..You made me happy..You showed me that there is more to life than the sorry exsistance I led..Im so fucking selfish..*Sigh*..That is why I cant tell you these things..That is why Im so secretive about how I feel now..You found out that I didnt love you like I used to..But I think I have you fooled into believing that I didnt mean it like I said...But truth be told..I did mean it the way I said..I dont love you like I used to..I love you more like a friend..More like a brother..But I cant tell you that..I cant hurt you like that...
Im so fucking selfish..But I will never tell you how I feel..I cant.
To the people of TWC..Thank you for letting me vent..*Sigh*..
I was confession 1859. About an hour after I sent the confession I realised I really needed him to see it. So I printed out and took it home. I sat quietly in the other room while he read it. He was mad. Really mad. He called my a selfish cunt. I told him, "You realise that my whole life for the past 2 years or so has been wrapped up in your health and mental state? This is my whole life. What kind of a life do you think that is for me? Yes, you are sick. But your sickness is seeping into others lives".
We rang the local psychiatric crisis line. We went in and he had an evaluation. He was admitted for a 3 days to get himself sorted out and started on the way to getting better. He came home and we made a pact. If we love each other we will help each other. We will help ourselves. I love him so much. Him being better will improve my life but more importantly, him being better will give him his life back. He didn't want to lose me. I suspect me losing him would have been much more permanent. I no longer live in dread of going home and finding him dead.
I write a letter to myself in a years time and I wish myself and my husband happiness and good health. I hope in a years time I thank myself for that wish.
To the man who erased my heart,
I fell.... so hard for you. I let you in my life, I let you in my sons life, and you betrayed me worse then anyone on this planet could have ever betrayed me. You were such a nice guy you made me laugh, I felt like I finally found what I've been searching for, for so long. Real love, not lust, but the love that hurts your insides and your heart because all you want to do is be with that person and make them happy. I was so scared of how you made me feel, I ran from it time and time again. I thought of every possible reason for leaving you, just to protect my heart from being broken again. But I realized I was in love with you and I was having your baby. I opened up, I didn't want to be a cold-hearted man hating bitch anymore. I wanted to love with everything inside of me. I told you all of my pain, all my sorrow. I told you things that I have never told anyone. I was molested by my cousin when I was seven, I was beaten for five years by "my first love" I was raped by a man that I don't even know what his name is. I told you everything because I knew you were different and you would be the man that I would marry. I never thought of marriage until you came into my life. God... I fell so hard for you.
........And what do you do to me? You beat my son, my baby, my heart and soul, my precious two year old son!!!!!!!!!! How dare you, who the fuck do you think you are to do this to my son and me? You are a worthless, coward, and I will make you pay everyday of your twisted, fucked up little life. You think that you had such a bad childhood, give me a fucking break. I feel nothing but such hatred and resentment toward you that I can't even breath sometimes. I feel sick for not seeing the terrible man that you are. I hate myself for giving you all me. I will never open up and love again like I loved you and I hope that you realize you have demolished my dream of happiness, and normalcy of ever trusting another man again. And I want to thank you for helping me realize that I would be much better off dating women. I hate you, I will never forgive you for what you did. And one day my your son will know what a weak piece of rotten shit you are. And I promise, cross my heart I will make you one sorry son of a bitch. And thats called being a mom!!!!
From- Giving up and moving on!!
Two fights in one week and NO make-up sex? Sheesh. If it's like this at 28 what will it be like at forty? Christ- I'm in my prime! You're wasting fine real estate here, bucko. Fuck this. Fuck me... PLEASE!
It all came to a head last night. I have been wondering why you seemed distant, pre-occupied; that sort of thing. I thought you were cheating on me. In fact, I was sure of it. You took another girl out, once...as far as I know. And I thought we had moved past that and were in a really good place. You called me at work, and I missed the call. I called you back 3 minutes later and got no response. I called on my way home-no response. I called, and called. I got home and you werent here. No note, nothing. The lights were all on, the TV on, the animals not fed. I assumed you made last minutes plans with some girl and ran out before I got home. Then I decided that fine, you want to fuck around, I'll catch you-just like last time. I got in my car, in pj's and drove to were I caught you last time. You weren't there. So i drove somewhere else. Not there. And i swear I do not know how i kept the car on the road because I was shaking so bad. My whole body felt like it was burning up. I finally came back home. I called again, and this time your phone was off. That sealed it for me. You were with a girl. I was FUMING. Then about 15 minutes after I got back you walked in. You had to go into work. At first I thought you were lying but then you got a call from a co-worker. I heard you talking about something that just happened at work. I felt so stupid. And guilty. I had just went batshit crazy for no reason. Then you told me you got a job offer over-seas. You want to take it because it is where you're from. You have family there and miss the place that you grew up in. You miss home. You told me to go with you. I cried all night, and most of this morning. I do not know anyone, i barely speak the language, and am not comfortable with the cultural differences there. But today, when you were so sweet, talking to me about how great it is there and how fun it would be, I saw in your eyes how much you really do miss home. So if you decide to do this, I will be right there with you. I just hope you are worth it.
To friends, family, and assorted acquaintances in our little town:
You know that baby we came home from the hospital with so proudly, after the pregnancy that was such a surprise? He's not my husband's. He's not mine either, genetically. As it turned out, after three rounds of in-vitro and two years of testing, neither of us has gametes that even try to pass themselves on. My eggs are long past their sell-by date and his sperm aren't much better. And you know what? I DON'T CARE. Between us my husband's family and mine, we've got three suicides, five alcoholics and a tried- and- convicted pedophile; they may look all right, but there's depression running through the lot like the fucking San Andreas Fault.
So when it turned out we had no good chance of conceiving, once the news had sunk in and the needle bruises had faded, we decided to just start over. Adoption would have been great, except for a) our ages and b) the list above, didn't exactly make us ideal candidates to an agency. And while searching international adoption, we found..... international egg donation. Holy shit: clinics all over the world, including my grandmother's birthplace, with donors offering young, healthy eggs AND sperm. Blah blah blah exploitation, blah blah interfering with nature: look, poor women in these same countries are giving their babies up for adoption, which has got to be more painful than a few weeks of clinic visits. I know, having been through the whole egg-stimulation and retrieval cycle three times, that it's usually no big deal. Bad reactions to the drugs do happen, but they're rare, and a smart clinic will catch them and stop the whole process.
These people were smart. We couldn't even read the road signs where we were, let alone understand the medical conversations going on around us, but we could feel the high standard of care going on with me -- and see the gorgeous, well-dressed young donors in the waiting room. We weren't allowed to know which was ours or even see a picture: fine! All we wanted was a healthy baby. We're not models, or PhD's, so there was nothing "designer" about our donor match; I didn't even care if the donor looked like me, so gave the clinic pictures of all my close female relatives. The procedure itself was fast and painless. And two weeks later: two pink lines on the stick. Halleluia!
Our boy is so perfect we still can't believe our luck. When people asked about the pregnancy I told the absolute truth, though not all of it: we got our miracle. There's not much physical resemblance to my husband, though people see one, and not at all to me -- and again, I don't give a damn. He's a separate person. Most mothers and kids spend painful years figuring that out: we got the news right out of the box. My job now is to make his life so rich and interesting that when he gets old enough to hear the unusual way he came to us, he's still glad to be here, as our kid. We have only limited background on the donors, and the records are supposed to be closed, but if he wants to search as an adult? Fine. I know we're going to take some heat from relatives, especially, about "how we misled them", and some rednecks around here will probably make stupid cracks. And this does bother me; but the alternatives -- him not being here, or us not telling him the whole story -- are too awful to contemplate. I'm proud to have had the grit to go so far for my son, and overjoyed that he is who he is. And anyone who wants to imply he's not mine? Can bite me, right on my midwife-stitched ass.