What's Wrong with Me?

What's wrong with me?

I got asked that question again today, and I'm... I'm so tired of feeling like I'm the problem. I hate that he always yells and yells about nothing. It's like nothing ever makes him happy. I don't care what he feels at this point. I'm done. I've given so much of my life to him and he doesn't see any of it. And he's so blind and stupid that any actual, real pain that he might feel he just bottles up. He doesn't understand how to feel his own emotions and it's bothering me... Well, I'm done. He's too old. Too old to be acting like a child throwing tantrums every five seconds; every time I open my mouth. It's like he lies in wait for me to have a thought, and share it, just for him to rip it down. He can watch the world burn and never notice the fucking matches in his hand. What a fucking asshole. What a fucking joke. I'm so fucking tired of this. I hate him. It's like I can't ever have anything to myself, in a space we share, because somehow it's all his - it's all about him. Somehow the work I've done over the years doesn't amount to anything. Fucking patriarchical bullshit has brainwashed all of us and he's the worst. The other day, I bought some groceries, I wanted to make a meal, for the both of us, and as I'm pulling out the spices to flavor it, he says "Why is all this out?" It's so obvious I'm cooking Stevie Fucking Wonder could see it and this withered, shrinking, barely-any-brain-cells-left from decades of drinking asswipe is asking me why the fucking spices are out. I tell him I'm cooking and he throws a fit about it, teeling me how I need to put them back because he doesn't want his kitchen dirty. A kitchen he NEVER CLEANS, by the way. So I say I'm going to put them back when I'm done because I don't think it's so ridiculous to have cooking materials out when I'm fucking cooking, and it just blows up from there. Are some people just fated to be pieces of shit or something? I don't even know why I go through this. Maybe it's habit. Maybe I hate myself, I don't know. I've been in this relationship for so many years now and at the beginning of it, he was nothing like this.

In the beginning, he would cook for me, clean sometimes. He would take me on dates and we'd walk to some of our favorite shops. One night, there was a man following us, he pulled out a gun and told us to give him all of our money. Well, little did he know we barely had anything to our name after having just paid the rent, the car note, car ins., everything. We had barely scraped up enough to go to a movie that night - our first night out in months - and my husband did what he needed to do as a man to protect both of us. I ran and called for help while he distracted the guy, got the gun from him and ran. We used to go through the trenches of bullshit together, not it's like I'm his target. It's like he's stopped seeing me as his ally and I don't know why. I try and give it to God, but I get so tired of praying and waiting sometimes. Why do I have to go through this?

What's wrong with me?

She loves to yell that at me. I'll tell you what's wrong, she keeps digging and digging and it's like no matter what I do or how hard I try to be a better person it's never enough. I get mad, I admit that, but who doesn't. Who wouldn't when someone you love, someone you've protected with your life, someone who knows all your strengths and weaknesses only ever focuses on those weaknesses. Why the fuck do I continue to share a space with someone who no matter how hard I try it's never enough for them. You know what, sometimes it's not enough for me either, but I keep trying. I keep going cuz I'm a man, and that's what I gotta do. No matter how much I hate myself for the stupid shit I did, I keep going because I got to. I can't stand this bitch always saying the same shit about how Godly she is, but I slip up and there's no forgiveness. She hates me. I know she does. I hate me sometimes too, but more than any of that I hate when she pushes me to that point where all I see is red. The other day, I had spent some time in the kitchen cleaning up. I don't really do it a lot, but I'd figure it'd been awhile and I wanted to give her a break from some of the shit she does on a regular basis out of appreciation. I put the pots up, cleaned the counters, made some bleach water in the sink, everything, and I was feeling pretty good about myself for doing it too. But she comes with all this stuff and she just splays it out everywhere and just erases all the work I done. I don't even think she noticed that I did any of it in the first place. Now, I see her pull out all these spices, like eleven, twelve different things for some chicken and rice. Nobody on earth uses that many spices, not even KFC, for some basic ass chicken and rice, and I just... had to say something. I felt like I needed to because it's like all this bullshit was being pulled out put everywhere. So I said, "Hey, do you need all those?" and she immediately gets an attitude with me for even asking, and I'm asking cuz I just want to know. She's like "Yes! I'm cooking," like I can't tell she's cooking. Ray Fucking Charles can see she's cooking and that's her response. So I decided to drop it and just say, "well, make sure you put them back when they're done", and it becomes a whole thing. I mean Jeez, I was just helping her out and reminding her to put the stuff back when she was done.

I remember a time when we had nothing, when we would have to sacrifice everything we had for each other and it was always about getting by, together. Now, I don't know who I've married or who I need to be to get this bitch off my back, but I'm tired of it. I'm so tired of this shit. I'm never right and she's never wrong. If I have to keep walking on my toes, if I have to keep waiting for some miracle for her to get off my back, I'm gonna lose it. And it's never her, either, it's always me, and it's... why do I put up with this?

What's wrong with me?