Breaking Point

It's been one helluva year that's for sure.

I should have been blogging this whole time, I would probably feel better. But I haven't and now I'm so far behind I don't know where to begin.
Back when Erik and I got married things were great. He was great, great with the kids, great with me, always so gung-ho about everything. Then we said I do, and everything changed like a freakin' light switch. Now, a year and a half later, I'm more miserable then I have ever been with any ex, and all he cares about is him. He says he cares, but then last night happened. And he doesn't get it. He thinks I'm just pissed about losing my stuff, which I am epic pissed off about. But he doesn't get the other problem I have, and it's fucking INFURIATING.

Last night, I wake up and I hear noises outside. I thought at first it was the wind, cuz it was windy as hell. But then when I closed my eyes again I thought to myself, everything happens for a reason, get up. So I got up, and LOW AND BEHOLD there IS someone who is truckin' down the street with a bag of my damn clothes. I wake Erik up, I tell him they were running down the street. And instead of being a normal man and running downstairs so he could catch them, he wastes time getting his shoes on, and then he goes for the shotgun, and by the time he is done pretending he's a commando, they are gone. He gets into the truck to see what they took, and they took all of the clothes that make me me, my hoodies, my chargers stuff, my brand new jacket I got for Christmas, the golf clubs his mom gave us, my make up box, EVERYTHING, GONE! He proceeds to act like he already knew, nonchalantly prancing around the house, calling the cops, and as I'm listing off the stuff I notice missing all I hear out of him is, I know. YOU KNOW?! How the hell would he know!? He barely even knows I'm HERE! Let alone paid attention long enough to know what all was missing.

The part he really doesn't get, and the part that is literally on the brink of me driving off and not coming back, is the fact that I had asked him, and told him I needed that stuff brought in for the previous three days before it got jacked. He brought his own shit in, but he left all of mine in my truck, that he knows doesn't lock, that he knows is in a shit part of town and has been broken into three times previously, but HE DIDN'T CARE ENOUGH TO BRING MY SHIT IN. So now everything that makes me me is gone, and he really could give a shit less, it wasn't his stuff. And the part that gets me is he is always saying he cares, SAYING being the operative word. But his actions speak way louder than his words ever could. Someone who cares, who I have been fighting and arguing and pleading with since we got MARRIED a YEAR AND A HALF AGO to pay attention, to actually listen to me, to even care what comes out of my mouth, has now cost me everything that is mine, that was me, and he doesn't get it. When I ask him three days in a row to get my stuff out of the truck, and the only crap he manages to bring in is his own, knowing I didn't even have any pajamas to wear until he did, doesn't do it and now it is gone forever, does that sound like someone who actually gives a shit? No, I didn't think so.

Now you may ask why I didn't bring it in myself. That would be because I feel like crap, I have Fibromyalgia, my back is killing me, and I have a hard time carrying heavy stuff. And he is the MAN, supposedly. He is supposed to do the heavy lifting. My ex did. But then again, my ex would have caught the person too and actually cared enough to bring it in the day we got home. But I guess that is another story.

There is plenty more I am going to be writing from now on. But figured I would start with a big fat Merry Christmas to me :( Can't wait to see what my birthday has in store.........