A letter to you.

  
This reality isn’t one I wanted or dreamed of as a small child or I envisioned for our children, when they let out their first cries into life. I wanted the family I deserved the one of messy days, of planned vacations, of ups and downs, but a family, nonetheless and a family we all could count on. I wanted laughter and tears and for a “home” for our precious children.
When I met you I trusted no one. I had experienced too many times before what it felt like when that trust was broken. I’d known from those time that I was on my own and I could trust no one but myself. But you got in and you persuaded me that you were good, and caring, and honest, and kind, and most importantly, that you loved me like no other and that when I needed you you were there. Things were never perfect but I don’t believe in perfect, flawed is much more interesting. I did however, believe in us. You were a little rough around the edges, harsh with your words at times but I thought you inherited that from your dad and I believed under it all, you had a heart of gold and that you would never, intentionally hurt me.  

I let my guard down and for that I regret because you pretended to be the good things I believed you to be. You figured out what I needed and you used that to get me to trust you. Because from that trust I was vulnerable and you could do what you wanted and manipulate me. I could be the life you have for “show”. I was your normal existence while you had secret lives that were really your real lives. The ones where you were who you wanted to be.  
As the years went by I watched you change. You obsessed over one hobby until it was old and on to the next, and the next, and the next. All selfish hobbies that were only for you and never for “us” or our family. When yoga took you over you were gone. It broke my heart when you’d finally make it home and our children, especially our daughter, would try to immediately start doing yoga postures to get your attention because even at 4 she knew without them, you didn’t see her. I was at a loss and I didn’t know how to make this better. I couldn’t make it better. This next hobby/obsession may be one that has always been around but has turned up in intensity. I do not want either of our children mimicking this to get your attention. Strippers and oversexed troubled souls who have questionable backgrounds and interest. I do not want our children knowing these interest of yours or people.  
When I walked in that apartment and found, Slutia or Ophelia (I’m not sure what you call her) asleep under our child’s blanket, drug paraphernalia, numerous, empty, untwisted baggies thrown about, sex toys, Our daughter’s unicorn and another stuffed animal mixed in with the used, covered in body fluid, sex toys in the bedroom and a camera that showed one of your acts of infidelity in hi-def, you can’t imagine the range of emotions I felt. The first of all was fear. I feared for my safety because I knew you would physically hurt me if you could. I knew you wouldn’t even see our children if they were around as you came at me to make me pay for what I found, not what you had done. So I ran. When you came to find me, I wasn’t there and that made you madder. So you took all the things I held dear from my parents, my mom’s wedding rings, all of their jewelry, their pictures. Because hurting me more seemed rational. 

So now I still run but not the same as before. I am not scared of you physically hurting me. I afraid of you mentally hurting our little ones with constant disapproval. Constant criticisms. Or the worst of all, the disappearances when they are waiting for your arrival.  

For that, I’ll never forgive you.

I.O.M

*and if I never thanked One Mom’s Battle, thank you!  If I hadn’t found your site and all the information it offered, I may still be thinking something was wrong with me.  Thank you❤️❤️❤️❤️!