I am in the depths of despair. Feeling a little better recently, I hired an attorney and filed for divorce to escape my sociopathic husband of nearly 9 years.
Skin still bad, I felt I had to take that step to finally heal. Yes, I could raise my kids on my own. I filed an ex parte order to get him removed from the house. From there, he was basically begging to come home. While he was gone, I felt a lot better.
He found a counseling program and seemed like a new person. But through it all, I was having severe panic attacks I’ve never experienced and PTSD symptoms. After going to a counseling session with him, I felt hope for the first time.
Then the kids & I went on a 4-day trip we had planned with my mom months ago. He was angry before we left and started harassing me the night before we left to come home. He blew up my phone the whole next day and started calling me names again, all that.
At some point during the trip, he told me the house was clean. So when we got home, I was shocked to see a disaster zone. It was the dirtiest it’s ever been. Had he not told me it was clean, I would’ve expected the mess. But he SAID IT WAS CLEAN. Why say that?
So I was upset. Very upset. I also was exhausted from the trip I really should not have done. We went to amusement parks 2 days & water park 1 day. My skin went through hell, and the only way I got through it was taking various antihistamines.
Since then, each day has been harder. He is full-blown crazy. Yesterday, my skin was extremely painful, and I was having a hard time functioning. He said he was going to take our middle son fishing down the road, never said otherwise. He left the other 2 here to rot essentially. The day before, I had forced myself to take the kids to do a few touristy things in my city since they start school next week, and I almost fainted. I had a damp towel around my hands and was asked by several people “what happened to your hands!!??” So I was beat and needed rest.
He could’ve postponed the fishing outing. Or done something involving all 3. But instead he went 2.5 hours away and said he would be home at 8pm. My 8-yr-old daughter had to watch my 3-yr-old off and on for 8 hours. I could not bend my fingers. At one point, I made them some noodles. It was very hard. They of course had eaten other things too.
So here I am again in bed at 11am. My husband has called his mother to take kids for the day. He hasn’t ceased attacking/verbally assaulting me. I have cried a great deal.
I’m miserable and feel helpless. I shy away from people I know, because I have nothing to talk about. My life for almost 3 years has consisted of skin hell. I have not been able to go back to work, or do anything of merit. I despise and dread the question “what have you been up to?”
I thought I had the power to break free. I thought I was finally going to get out of the cage I feel is making me incapable of healing. Then for a moment I had hope that maybe we could work it out, for the kids if nothing else.
Now I have another infection, am back on Cleocin and cannot move my hands. I cannot make food for myself or brush my hair. I have to hold a glass with 2 hands. I do not want to get out of bed, because the mildest stressor will send me into a full-blown itching frenzy. And it’s the only place I’m warm and comfortable.
What is this life? I’ve often wondered how I was always a star, always set high goals and achieved them, could do anything I set out to do…and now I’m this? I feel that I cannot do anything. I can’t even care for my kids the way I wish I could. I always thought I would be a great mom. People tell me I am and that I have the best kids.
Now I see people who I’ve mentored far surpassing what I’ll ever even dream of accomplishing. Because I have almost given up. My kids see me as a sick person. I’ve been out of work so long, I feel unemployable. I used to count my blessings, but now I have a hard time seeing them.
I have not brushed my teeth in 2 days. And I don’t care. My skin hurts so badly around my lips, I don’t want to endure the burning sensation.
And my kids start school next week. I don’t know what to do to get Richard to leave again.