This is my first time writing on this site. I haven't blogged in a very long time on any site so pardon me if this is choppy and confusing...
Today we had a fight that nearly led to our final break up. We have been through ups and downs and I've seen Frank (remember that's his alias, he's actually a black male who is 8 years older than me) mad before. Today though he was ferocious. After we drove around this new town for an hour looking for a pawnbroker to try to pawn his PS2, my engagement ring, and some of my other jewelry in order to have some money for the week, we ended up never finding one.
As soon as he realized that I was having trouble finding the pawn shop, he immediately started getting pissed off. I expected that, of course, because his temper is uncontrollable, even over the smallest things. I tried and tried to find a pawn shop and I even stopped and asked some people. Finally, I gave up and drove back home. On the way he yelled at me and cussed me out and said I wouldn't have to worry about him much longer.
All of this did not seem odd at all. Frank is an angry, tense guy when he can't get his "medicine." And since we were broke as of this morning he was feenin'. When we got home he started getting scary. He started packing his things and yelling/screaming about what kind of bitch I am. I said he was acting like a psycho and that's when he said he'd show me what a psycho was. He picked up his shotgun and pretended to load it.
I picked up Lee, went into his room, and locked the door. We stayed there while Frank banged on the door, yelled, screamed, cursed, and told me every terrible thing he would do to me and the house if I didn't let him in. He banged on the door so hard that he made the door-sized mirror on the back of it fall and shatter. It scared me and the baby. We were both crying. He screamed he didn't mean to and that he was sorry. I knew he didn't mean to but he shouldn't have been acting that way. He was really being PSYCHO!
I told him to leave. I told him he could take the car and leave - he could take his stuff, take the car, and leave us ALONE. He yelled about how he didn't have a license and he couldn't drive my car. (He drives all the time...such BS)
I eventually came out of Lee's room so that I could get him a bottle and Frank tried to act like he was going to clean up the glass that he had shattered. I yelled and told him to forget it and to get his shit out. He said he wouldn't leave, that I had to drive him. HA!
Then he said he was taking Lee with him. I said hell no. If he can't take care of himself without depending on a constant chain of weed, beer, and cigarettes, he definitely can't take care of himself AND our son. I could have killed him right there. What made him think that he could take my son, the son I carried for 9 long months and labored to deliver for 24 hours, 3 of which were PUSHING?! He'll never have any more guardianship over our son than me...ever.
He ended up calling his mommy to complain and drag her into the fight. He wouldn't tell her the whole truth though...not the REAL reason why we weren't getting along - the fact that he had spent our last $20 dollars on weed for himself when he knew we needed diapers and wipes for Lee. I yelled and told her. He got mad because she wasn't supposed to know about his addiction. He was trying to make her believe I was the bad guy. I wouldn't sit by and allow that to happen when I knew that the whole reason we were fighting was because he couldn't get his priorities straight.
I save every last penny I have to care for my son and for him while he sits around and spends what I save to feed his addictions.
I ended up driving him to one of his friend's houses in Greenville. I intended to drop him off with his stuff and to never see him again. I was that angry and fearful for Lee's well-being. We fought the whole way. He cried and tried to make me feel sorry for him being addicted to all that unhealthy, expensive stuff. I didn't break.
When we were almost there he pleaded for me to give him another chance, to let us have a night away from eachother to cool off and to let him come home. I broke. Thoughts of me and Lee alone in our big house, me never being able to finish school, Frank and I custody battling, fighting for adequate child support, and going through supervised visitation had been swirling through my head from the moment the fight turned violent. I couldn't bear the thoughts. I had to try again.
Our relationship had been so great in the beginning. We were so in love...and lust. We wanted eachother all the time. We cuddled and held hands, said and wrote the sweetest things to eachother. We were inseperable. Before we lived together in our apartment we talked on the phone to eachother every night and spoke of how much we missed eachother.
Once I told him I was pregnant he changed. He said I had trapped him, I had gotten pregnant to keep him. That was ridiculous. I would never have wanted to have a baby at 20! I had my whole life ahead of me, a 3.0 GPA that was on the rise nearly guaranteed me a spot in graduate school to get my PsyD. Once I got pregnant it seemed like that was all gone. I was scared and he was angry, an awful mix. I was sick a lot in the first few months and everytime Frank picked a fight with me I'd get sicker.
Finally, when we moved out of our apartment at the end of September, he moved to his parents' home and I moved to mine. He calmed down once he got away from me. We started talking on the phone again and our love seemed to start to burn again. We both became excited about having a baby. I'd finally told my family and everything seemed to be great. We went to the birth classes together and looked at all sorts of baby stuff.
He was there for the birth of the baby and the week after the baby was born he stayed with me in my parents' home. He didn't help much though. I was tired and very sore and he would allow me to get up and waddle over to our screaming baby in the middle of the night. He would get very irritated because he couldn't smoke at my house. He stressed me out after the birth. We started fighting again, not badly, just bickering.
When we moved here, he was hesitant about leaving his job and his family but he decided it was for the best.
Now, after the baby was born I started to have terrible self esteem issues because my body was a mess. I once had a perfect, thick body type - fat ass, thick thighs and a small waist. Now I have stretch marks all the way across my VERY flabby stomach and my clothes don't fit. My ass is huge too. I gained like 30 pounds. Ugh.
Once we moved here, Frank pretty much stopped sleeping with me. He stopped cuddling with me and saying I love you all the time. It seems to me that I'm no longer attractive to him. He swears up and down that that is not the case. Whatever, he didn't even sleep with me on VALENTINE's day! What kind of bull is that?
I'm really tired of him using me for weed money and ignoring me because I'm not hot enough for him anymore two months after I carried and birthed his 8 pound 6 ounce baby.
I wish I hadn't told him he could come back home tomorrow! I'm such a pushover sometimes...
| Views: 41
Email This to a Friend 
