Fear and Loathing

I feel abandoned and I can't tell anybody. I feel like a fool for having yet another kid to just get yelled and cussed at and to take to church alone. I hate sitting there husbandless with my two kids and big belly. I hate the pitying looks and questions, and I hate telling my daughter that Daddy's not coming to church for the umpteenth time.

I hate the eye-rolling and disgusted sighs I get when I mention it. I hate the pregnant comments that inevitably come with every tear. I hate feeling....ugh!!! I just hate it.

I hate being taken repeatedly. I hate calling over and over and over and being told the same thing time and again, then nothing being fixed. I hate being blown off because I'm a woman, or I'm pregnant, or I'm poor.

I hate being disobeyed. I hate not having more control of my kids. I hate being depressed. I hate being on medication. I hate not being able to get off of it. I hate not being able to afford it.

I hate listening to other moms talk about the things they do and trying to come up with some noble, higher reason for not doing it other than the fact that I can't afford food, let alone anything else. I hate worrying if the toilet paper will last 'till payday, and who I can put off to get it when payday comes.

I hate that I want to get away from my daughter on some days and I just can't stand her. I hate that I feel like sixty dollars a month has to be spent on me taking her to kids day out once a week just so I can get a break from her. I hate that I still end up calling Misty and scrounging money from somewhere, anywhere just to get her out of my hair.

I hate that I lost her at school. I hate that she's not potty trained. I hate that he's not completely trained, either. I hate that he rarely gets green dots at school. I hate that he throws fits. I hate that he gets so crazy and rambunctious. I hate that they terrorize the cats.

I hate that I'm not normal, or at least a little closer to the normal that everyone else is. I hate depression. I hate my family life. I hate that I don't really have a family life to hate. We all just happen to live in the same house. I hate all the yelling. I hate all the swearing. I hate all the bickering and arguing and aggravating. I hate, hate, hate the absolute disobedience and disrespect and daily spankings. I hate not knowing what to do and that what I am doing isn't working. I hate feeling like a failure as a wife, mother, person, human being. I hate being incompetent. I hate being impatient. I hate being emotional. I hate crying. I hate screaming.

I hate pretending. I hate pretending that I'm okay, that I'm happy, that I'm positive, that I'm optimistic, smart, talented. I hate trying to be worthwhile to anyone for anything, but knowing that I'm not and never will be. I hate ... I just hate.

You know, sometimes life just sucks.