I can’t believe I was in a relationship for two and a half years where I wasn’t ever allowed to go out. What the fuck? How do I always do these things to myself? Where you get to the end and you look backwards and you’re like WHAT THE FUCK happened here? HOW did I let myself do that so long? I mean I think at the beginning during the honeymoon stage I didn’t really care or notice much and then I was pregnant and so it was ok that I didn’t go out because I felt awful every minute of the day for 9 months. And I was working until 9 every night and…I was pregnant. I mean, there’s not much you can do. And then I had a newborn and that was such a world fuck that for a long time I didn’t even contemplate anything else. And then after a period of time I was slowly like…what is happening here? I wasn’t even allowed to go out to visit my parents, or speak to my brother. This was by far the biggest thing we fought about. He just demanded that I be there waiting for him when he got home from work every single night. And then I would sit there in silence while he watched whatever he wanted to watch and he would quickly drink 4 or 5 beers and then pass out at 8pm and then I would clean up his mess. WHAT??? How did this happen? He literally would get so irate about me even going over to see my mom…during the day…while he was at work??? While I’m stuck at home with a baby who doesn’t talk. That can get so lonely so quickly. He literally just wanted me to sit in the house all day and keep his dog company. He was literally mad that I didn’t keep his dog company. Meanwhile my mom provided me the ability to shower (otherwise I could not with Jamie), the ability to do our laundry and another actual human being to speak to. I don’t even understand. And he didn’t even interact with Jamie. Controlling doesn’t really even cover it.

But anyway. It’s good to come out into the light of the world again. I feel like I’ve been hidden away in some hole. It’s good to reconnect with so many people again. It’s good to be alive. It’s sucky to think of lost time. It’s weird to be 25. But it’s better than being 35. And it’s good too. To have moved past a lot of the bullshit you think matters when you’re young.


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