It’s 2:23 a.m.

We’re alone.

I hope it’s worth it. It hurts to think that the bottle of the party is worth more than Pickle, the baby and myself.

I sincerely hope the kids never have that same thought.

God has blessed us and my husband is making a mockery of it. I hope his ungratefulness and pride will not hinder the rest us. I guess I should be thankful that he is a God of mercy. God please take mercy on us.

I want my husband. Here, at home, in every sense. The boys need their Daddy 100%. I think sometimes that maybe he and I are not as connected as I believe. Why is it so good when we’re good and then just so terribly fucked up when it’s bad? I wonder if I’ve absorbed the potential of the man he could be instead of facing reality.

He can be a good man, with an awesome heart, but he is also a gorwn man who cannot break an addivtion and will not reach our and get the help he needs, for his own sake or even for ours.

I love this mand and more than anything I want us to have a family together. A strong family. But I’m not holding the cards right not.

Baby, please … come home to us. For Good. We need you.

Somethings never change

Sticking to form … I’m 21 years old, 1 week married and 6 months pregnant.

It’s after 1 am, I’m alone and my heart is breaking. My eyes are red and swollen. I’m emotionally exhausted but too disturbed to sleep.

My dearest husband worked his first full day at his new job today. The job that is supposed to change out lives, get us out of here, make things better for our “family”.

He got off work at 5pm and got home at 6:30 … with beer. He let his disappointment of there not being any dinner prepared be known. I told him that I had really missed him and had looked forward to seeing him all afternoon, to please not start in on me. I told him that Pickle really wanted Taco Bell for dinner and I thought I’d pick some up and he could get a sub or whatever else it was he wanted after his first day. He said, “Well you need to order my sub and go pick it up. I’m not going out anywhere.” Crack opens first beer. But after he finished off the six pack he had brought home, he was more than willing to run to the store.

I told him I would just go to bed if he was planning to continue to drink simply to avoid another “episode”. When he asked if I wanted anything, I was truthful. I told him “Yes. My husband cuddled up with me on the couch watching a movie without needing a beer to survive.” He told me he would be right back. That was at 9:35.

I got Pickle settled into bed and shortly before he fell asleep he tells me that his “Mommy” made him sad. This time he says “Mommy says bad words and Daddy a motherfucker”. I really would rather that he talk to his Dad about this, but of course, he wasn’t here.

At 10:50, he strolls in with another six pack under his arm and says, “Don’t be mad, baby.” And the story comes. He ran into his brother at the store. He was on his way to work at the bar and told husband to stop up for a little bit so he could buy him a drink. So he went and bullshits with his brothers. He said he watched JBob patrolling by the bar and all the girls were grabbing his ass. “Man,” he said in admiration.

Fine. Great, but in the meantime, you told you spanking new, pregnant wife that you’d be right back and she also told you exactly what she wanted and not only did you ignore that, but you had her worried because you had already drank a six pack and were gone for over an hour on a beer run that typically takes less than 10 minutes in a vehicle with no insurance.

So? I guess I can’t ever hand out with my brothers?” (HELLO?!?) He leaves the room and comes back and approached me on his knees. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to hang with my brothers for a little bit. I didn’t want to look like a pussy.” He told me that me and his family were most important. I wanted to tell him that his actions spoke so loudly that I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I didn’t. I mean, this wasn’t the first time he had said this and it wasn’t the first time he had done this. I’ve just asked him to call and that he sure as shit wouldn’t appreciate it if the shoe was on the other foot. He said he had thought about calling, but just figured I’d be mad no matter what he did. I think I would’ve told him to hurru home and would’ve been disappointed given my request priro to his depature because I had missed him all day and wanted him here., but I wouldn’t have been nearly as upset. He tells me I’m full of shit. I asked him to try it next time and see what happens. At least if I get pissed when he calls, he can know he did his part. I went to bed without raising my voice or even cursing.

Around midnight, the phone search function on the handset started beeping. He knocked on the bedroom door and told me he needed to use the phone.  I asked who he was calling in a half asleep daze and he replied, “a friend“. When I asked who, he didn’t even bother to answer. I told him he wasn’t doing himself any favors and it could be viewed as quite suspicious that he had arrived late twice tonight and now needed to call an anonymous friend. He said that he really didn’t need to use the phone that he was just testing how controlling I was. Now I’m wide awake. I follow him out to the family room and ask him how on Earth he could possibly call me controlling when I’m 6 months pregnant and was left at home with Pickle while he was out on the town doing exactly what he wanted. It’s laughable.

His response was that he came home as soon as he could when actually he had come home as soon as he wanted to and then acted surprised and wounded that I was upset with him. He didn’t think this was true because apparently he had wanted to stay out longer but only came home because I was gonna be “a bitch“. What a strange contradiction from his “I choose a family life over partying” schpeel earlier.

I started to cry and told him he was making me like I had just made a big mistake, that we were back a Square 1 after a week of marriage, that he has promised me that this wouldn’t happen anymore.

At this point his speech is completely slurred and his eyes are barely open. He tells me I’l never understand because I’ve never worked like him to provide so much, to provide everything. I point blank told him that I didn’t want the provisions if they came with a catch of clause of him being able to do and say everything he wanted that wasn’t in the best interest of our family. I didn’t want things like this. “Like what?” he asks. When I started to answer him, he moved his mouth as if to mock me talking. I told him that I wanted to leave but since I couldn’t wake up Pickle at this hour and couldn’t reasonably leave him that maybe he should call one of his brothers and just go back to where he wanted to be. PIckle and I don’t need this shit in our own home. He asked if I would drive him. (Again, HELLO?!?) Therer were only two bottles of beer in the fridge now, which I poured out. He complained about me wasting it.  I told him that one of use needed to gain control over this situation before it got any further out of control because he was already past the point where another beer would even have a point. I asked him to leave again.

He told me it was his house and asked when was the last time I paid for anything or did any work. This from the same man who told me to not go to an interview this morning because he wanted me at home. I tried to just ignore this comment and asked if I could call his Mom to come get him. As I walked down the hallway, he said, “Welcome to the real world, big girl” and then mumbled “fat bitch“. This is when I just started to sob uncontrollably. Again, I wonder how this happens.  Why does he treat me like this? How can he treat me like this?

Last Friday when we got married we were on top of the world, a week later I’m left wondering if I made the biggest mistake of my life by just trying to do what I THOUGHT would be in the best interests of both the boys. I want my child to have a family, but not like this. NOT. LIKE. THIS.

Then he yelled down the hallway for me to “shut the fuck up with the crying and grow the fuck up“. I got dressed and told I would drive him over to his Mom’s but that I refused to be disrespected like this in my own hime while carrying his child. He ended up leaving on his own, but not before telling me that it would be my fault if he wrecked or got a DUI.

If I’m honest, it hasn’t been a week. On Monday night, he was really upset because his Mom was being “totally unsupportive” of this new job because it meant we would be moving 30 minutes away. He got buzzed up and started talking to me about it. I listened and was being supportive. He told me that his Mom and Dad thought it was all my idea and that I controlled everything. I told him they could think what they wanted and that all that mattered was that we knew what we wanted and were working as a team for our family’s best interest. He rolled his eyes and said, “Yeh and what have you done lately.” Like, out of nowhere came this personal attack.

I just don’t understand. Will it ever stop? And what will it cost us before it does?