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The truth is I hate my husband.
The truth is I hate that I hate him.
The truth is I hate myself for being so naive and trusting, so desperate and weak to not look out for myself.
I know I'm just another prey for him to munch on and when the meats all gone and all that's left is the chewy fat resting on bone he'll finish and leave to die just like the rest of them only...I won't die.
I may not have the meat that was juicy as before and my fat and bones might be covered with dirt from nonmovement for so long but the difference will be I'll be the one feasting for years when eventually your prey will run out.

The truth is I want to leave my husband, or rather the person he refuses to change.
So many times he plays dumb asking what I mean when I say that very sentence, but if he really truly allowed himself to be vulnerable long enough so that God could reach in and shake him, he'd know and he'd break down with embarassment again. I'm angry because I don't understand his kind or mine. I despise the women who sit there on the floor crying while their husbands tear them down inside, making them hate themselves even more. Deep down I despise them because that is me and I hate that I'm not strong enough to walk away. The question I have is will my God forgive me if I did? Is that what it truly takes for my husband to find his faith just like history in his family?

He's not a bad person and I'm supposed to love him because he's God's creation but I do hate him. I hate what he does to me and the oblivious nature he carries for someone he "has". The truth is that at times I want to fall unto the depression again, turn my back on God and all the gifts He's provided for me to stay afloat. How easy it would be to trip just once, to slip up causing all those demons to tug and pull at me. At that very thought I invision skinned creatures from the underworld crowded beneath me with their dirty, scathed arms pulling at my own. It doesn't take must to pull me under because I'm ready and willing to give up in this vision.

I know that no amount of numbers notecards could ever make a dent and no amount of kisses or "I love you's" or even prayers could make a difference which is why I always come to the conclusion that the only time it has ever made a dent was when he was forced to be alone, dealing with himself long enough for Christ to crowd his space. But again, the notion comes in that he would soon just mimick this relationship with another, not for lack of love for me but rather lack of love for himself.

Am I doomed to this awful hurtful life? No it's not physically abusive like it used to be but aren't internal wounds much more tedious to heal? There's no bandage that will cover a broken heart except for Christ, which then comes back to the question of forgiveness. Will my God forgive me?

Life was so much easier, or at least becoming manageable and hopeful with the acceptance that this life was over. A blessing in disguise really. Am I bad wife or do I not truly love him if I carry these feelings? Everyday is a battle, a struggle for me to just want to touch his hands or to see his face, a face I often find myself wanting to scrape across with my fist. I find myself fighting revenge as to somehow find justification for every person he made to think I was in the wrong, for every person he convinced I was the bad person when everything in this relationship has changed except for him and still the problems occur.

I know now that there is no hope in showing him and there is only a hope that on that day I leave or die, he'll finally get it. Until then is this my mission Oh God? To live a life, a marriage without fullness or joy or even to know what unconditional love is, to not see my husband walk in your light? Why then did You show me what he could be if I believed? Why then did You allow him to perceive his identity as something else and unveil the truth after I made that promise.

Not ever have I lied about who I am or how I work and still I have no clue who this person is at heart. I do wonder if he would be capable in the latter years to kill without disregard or emotion. Does he?

Why did you give me this life, or allow me to choose this life for myself? Was it to show me the error of my ways because I swear if I knew what I knew now I would say 'no' when he asked if I would date him. I would choose myself instead.

Will he ever find You? Does he even want to? How am I to be married to this man whom I hate, and still love him, care for him, forgive him? How am I to be expected to live each day greatful for this life when all I want is a new one, a new husband or at least the husband I know he could be. Is it possible to believe and have hope but not get your hopes up?

I don't want to carry this rock anymore simply because I'm nothing. I am nothing because of this man and the funny part is he wouldn't even know it.

Future novelist

I think I'll write a book.

No one ever said that writing a book had to be published to be great, of course that would be the public standard huh?

Isn't it interesting that anything could really be published these days but yet people are so afraid of the judgement that they shy away from telling their story.

I'd like to write a book and it used to be writing to help others, to paint a better name for myself, to just make money and have fun writing. Now, I want to write a book to heal old wounds. I want to see the words on the page, just like a journal or a letter, accept it as truth and be in a place where I can then say "okay", put down the book, close the chapter, and move on.

I wonder if in life I have a greater purpose and I end up spending more time wondering than actually doing. Even if it sucks, I'll heal because it's a learning process just like life and I feel like once you've figured out how to survive life in a healthy way...nothing will ever stop or slow you down.

The biggest obstacle I have is wanting to walk away from my husband. Of course I love him more than any other person in my life at this moment but I do fight the urge to see how much better, how much easier, how much growth and health would come without him. Of course when I'm not stuck in my emotions I realize that walking away would be the equivalent to leaving a wounded man behind in battle and for me, personally, I just wouldn't want to live with that.

Like anything else I would learn to forgive myself for it and I think that's the biggest difference between me and some others who have walked away is because I know I would be hurt, ashamed, embarassed at times but overall it's like every other decision made in my life meant to be accepted as either good or bad, right or wrong.

I won't leave my husband not because I can't, not because I love him too much, not because I'm afraid I'll never love again or that someone could ever love me again, and surely not because of loneliness. I won't leave my husband because this is not my life and this is not the hand I would've dealt myself. This life isn't about me or what I want for myself or how I want my life to go. This life is about learning how to readjust myself to fit the needs of my God and to me that is the only reason I keep choosing every day that I am reminded of how sad and lonely it can be even with my husband, because I know that this is not my life.

I know that my God would forgive me if I ever chose to leave and He would understand if I felt like I was at the end of my rope with nowhere to go, but I know that there is always more rope even when it seems there isn't and that there will always be the hope of what joys He will bring should I choose freely to abide in Him. I'm not trapped into my decision like I once argued, I am open and free to make whatever choice I want to make but I must always remember that this is not my life and who am I to say how it's supposed to run?

This is what I want my book to be about. What I have physically, emotionally, spiritually survived is easily equivalent to physical pain or injury or sickness. When I hear about stories of children with cancer, men who lost their legs in war, or women who overcame rape and abuse I equate my own struggles with theirs. Most will say how dare I say it's the same but we are all human and we are all capable of the same feelings no matter what circumstances we are in. Sometimes all it take to feel depression is the thought that you're not good enough and sometimes for others it's physical abuse from a parent or stranger who raped you in an alleyway.

So, I'll write because I have the ability to and I'll enjoy every minute of my day because it was made for me, just me.