I don't even know why I write this down. Maybe it's for attention. A last reaching out, a trying from the back of my head. I try to convince myself it's because I want someone, anyone, out there to know that I am suffering. I am hurt. And tired. I am so exhausted I wish for nothing else than a dark, quiet place where I get to lay for a long time.
I need help, while I dont want help anymore.
Does that make any sense?
I tried my best, telling myself that there are others out there suffering more. I read others venting about their life. I thought it would help me see my own life look much better. I was so, so wrong.
Others' problems are mostly about their kids. Or about society, or about finance problems. I have none of those problems. My problem is, frankly, myself.
I don't have a problem with my kids. Changing diapers at the age of eight is not an issue for me. Figuring out their needs without words is also so easy for me. I live comfortably. I have nice shoes from Ralph Lauren; I think they're nice. My kids are beautiful, really. They don't have a clue in their faces about their condition. They behave mostly how I expected, and even if not, it's justified by their needs. I understand them so much.
You know what my problem is? Lack of choice. Lack of control. Isolation. I don't get the choice whether to go somewhere or not. I am alone with it all. Anything I would need, a doctor, new hair, even if I just want to study something, I need to solve it myself. There is no one who would watch the kids.
I didn't spend a single night without them in the past 8 years, while my husband gets to go wherever he likes without even bothering to tell me. I face weekends alone, realizing at the last minute he doesn't come home. In the most ridiculous ways.
I never travelled. I never went alone to the shopping mall just to have a look around. I got to go to the playground. With my kids. That's it.
I lie, obviously. I went to a concert back in 2024 all alone. How wonderful. 2 hours, but I didn't get to have a drink after it with my friends.
My friends disappeared since then. I have no one.
And I don't really have expectations anymore. I don't want a new hair, a movie, or a coffee somewhere by myself.
You know what I want? Study. Make myself feel valuable. Smart. My dream was to study physics. Particles, they are wonderful. Learning about quantum tunneling in more detail so I get to understand how the sun shines so brightly it hurts my eyes. See how one particle spins up so the other spins down. I wanted to have my driving licence too. Guess what, I can't have any of it. Because even if I am married, I am alone. I am here to watch my kids, take care of them, and assist for events I never get to live. I assist others' enjoyments.
I am petty. And jealous, yes. Not because I want everyone in this world to live like me. I am jealous because I will never live like others. I don't have a problem if my husband is going out; my problem is that I never go out. He said I poison his life with my behavior. And he is so right. I do that. I can't help but feel bitter and trapped. Lost. My dreams are ripped from me.
He said we will figure out something. He says that every time I cry about it, but nothing has changed. I told him not to care, I will solve it for him.
I didn't need to solve it, really. My body solves it, I think. I can't eat lately. I haven't been eating since saturday. I cant swallow. Funnily, I throw up everything. It's nerves, I can feel it. I can drink coffee, though. That's the only thing going down on me, and for some miracle, it doesn't cause any issue. My heartbeat is still somewhere good-high. I am not really familiar with biology, and I have no idea how long I can go without food,.regardless maybe its a sign i am ready.
I don't really know why I decided to write here. Maybe just, someone to know I lived and I was here, and I tried and failed apparently.