"When you're tired of talking, screaming, fighting you just sit and cry. I can almost feel the depression creeping into me like a creature with fingers or fangs.
I take a deep breath but it's not enough I still find myself suffocating. My marriage has been a closed phobia. A topic I'm afraid to touch. My mortal pride says no one should know but my soul wants to yell for help.
I'm drowning, sinking and thinking that I can't swim. I have levied my skills for the salvation of my marriage. If for nothing then the kids.
They can't grow up without their father.
He doesn't treat me well, but he doesn't mistreat me either. It's more like I am unimportant, invisible, missing from his consciousness.
I squeal in my sleep at nights after having a day that only other mothers can imagine. The squeal my monotonous high pitched cry of exhaustion and the fear of heading for disaster. I can't start over not after almost seven whole years of laughter-weeping deep in my soul and arguing with someone who was supposed to cherish me and love me!
I messed up my life didn't I.
I then realize the years of motivation was his resounding my statements and sentiment. The same ones I chanted over him when he fell down, when he would get weary, when he asked the question "What's the point? "
Where's my cheer leader, why isn't there anyone standing in my corner. Am I to ignore his absence and continue to be his Susie home maker-a representation of unequal-ness!
I am sick of this.
I never ask for anything and I am quiet as I try to get mine but I never can because I keep sacrificing my dream for his... It is my duty to keep home with the kids.
I gave him everything and kept nothing for me despite his incompetence I still highlighted his heroics, his gusto-but alas there was none, just a dream, a dream that he wastes no time waking me from.
Ariah needs me. Aaron needs me. Ayden loves me-maybe?!"
December 2016 was a rocky ride. I was often sad even when I knew that I was to be happy.
I had packed up an entire house while taking care of a preschooler, toddler and new born and come the end of November I faced unpacking it all on my own because daddy was always working still.
We had gone through much of December like this and I tried not to complain because what was there to really be unhappy about.
I now lived in a snug little apartment with no ants, crawling creatures or rodents. I slept with every window open because I feel uncompromised, not uncomfortable.
The boys were happy, they were finally bright eyed and ecstatic and Ariah slept most of the day.
Daddy was comfortable and I made life easier for him by ensuring that the only thing he had to do when he came home was bathe, eat and sleep.
I soon grew weary of the routine as it continued into the weekends and on weekdays I would wake up and repeat.
Purpose began to ebb from my life and I was exhausted everyday.
I begin to think about how hospitable my husband is and how he always runs about doing everything when we have guests over (which is very seldom) but leaves me to do everything when there's no one around.
I begin to feel confused and start believing that there's something wrong with me.
I slowly grow unhappy and depressed and I begin crying all the time.
The boys ask me what's wrong but I don't answer or I reply with strangled sobs or I lie and say that I am fine but they know me and I see them watching me constantly with concerned innocence.
I think I'm crazy until Ayden begins to make a habit of asking "Why daddy take so long to come back, all the time?"
We all wait for daddy and daddy always wants to watch a movie before bed no matter how late it is-this is the Richards family ritual.
The boys look forward to it.
I look forward to it.
They get sad and cry on my lap or shoulder when they get sleepy and can't wait up for daddy anymore.
I don't want to talk, so I just leave it. We're the reason why he is always working so I shouldn't complain but when did I become invisible and so forgettable!