February 1, 2020 Saturday 2:26 p.m.

Today has been hard. I felt overwhelmed and so discouraged.
My husband and I had a disagreement and he made a comment
in passing, “I can’t live like this anymore. Maybe we need some
time apart.”

I was surprised. Why is he saying that? We’ve been getting
along great, or so I thought.

Friday we had an end of the year meeting for the company
my husband started. It took an hour and a half to get there.
He’d mentioned that we’d make a stop for me, before the
meeting, because the place would be closed after.

Whenever I get in a hurry, I start to shake and get irritable.
He moved slow and I was frustrated because we were running
out of time. 

I have way more to do to get ready and I’m waiting on him. 

Adrenaline rushed through my veins. The thought, I have
to fight for what I want, passed through my heart, so subtle,
that I didn’t take note and adjust my behavior. 

I’ll  start the car and get it warm while he gets ready. 

I took our water bottles, his satchel with the papers he needed,
my coat and purse, out to the car, to save time. But my
impatience grew.

“Come on! What is taking you so long?” I yelled from the
front entryway.

Now he felt rushed and wanting to please me, he hurried, 
got in the car and realized, as I pulled out onto the highway,
that he'd forgot to do a couple of things. We were both irritated.

Todd and I grew up in homes where there was a lot of yelling.
Unfortunately, we both can raise our voices when we are stressed.
I hate when I get like that, as does he, and yet, here we were.

Part of it, is because my nerves have been on edge since
December and Dad’s diagnosis. For the mot part, I’ve been
quiet and on auto-pilot. But recently, it’s felt like things have 
bubbled up and I can’t control them or keep them stuffed down.
It scares me, for the very reason Todd mentioned, leaving me.

We talked it out and he said he really didn't want to leave, he just
didn't want us to go back to the way we used to talk to each other.
I don't either!

I’ve never felt like I ‘belonged’ anywhere. I have such a need to
be ‘seen’ so to speak. I think that comes from being silenced
through abuse. It's more of a need to feel like I am loved and
belong. That I matter.

My Mom conceived me one month after marrying my Dad.
She’d had a hard childhood and was a little momma at a
very tender age. She had to help my Grandma raise her
twelve brothers and sister. So when she and Daddy fell
in love and married, I personally believe she wanted more
time with him. To conceive me so quickly, she was thrust
back into “Mommy mode”. I say this to explain what
happened next.

I was told this story at a very young age and multiple times
growing up. The story is that Mom was “big pregnant” with
me. I don’t know how far along?

Anyway, one night her and Daddy stood behind the car
looking up at the moon in their driveway. The car slipped
out of gear and knocked Mom down. The back tire hit her
in the back around her shoulder blade. I have a large birth
mark in the same place. Daddy was able to stop the car
from rolling over her and killing us both. 

Mom said to me, “My stomach was as hard as a rock and
you didn’t move for days. Daddy tried to get me to go to
the Doctor but I refused.” She had a smirk on her face.

Eventually, Dad made her go.

"The Doctor was very angry that I waited so long to come
in," Mom said. She seemed, 'satisfied' about that choice.

I've always 'known' or believed, that she hoped she would have
a miscarriage. 

One time, while I helped her make their bed, she said, “Yeah,
I never thought I’d have a snot-nosed kid sitting in a high chair
eating wedding cake on my first Anniversary.” She seemed angry.

I added up how long it took to get pregnant and then from their
anniversary to my birthday. They were married October 6th.
I was born in August. The numbers didn’t add up. I would have
been two months old on their one year anniversary. No way was 
I old enough to eat cake or sit up in a high-chair.

 I felt her disdain towards me. That ‘wish’ that I ‘d not been
around. At least that was my perspective. It continued through
out my life and our relationship. That doesn't mean she doesn't
love me. She did the best with what she was given growing up.

Things have been so much better with Todd and I the past
couple of years, and I’d just begun to feel secure and then
swoosh, the rug’s pulled out from under me.

Now, my mind questions him when he says he loves me. 

Do you? Or are you really thinking about leaving me?

Sigh, I get that this comes from a life-time of abuse, emotionally,
physically and sexually. Plus, I’ve never loved anyone like I love
him. I love how we laugh and joke around. He’s the best lover
I’ve ever had and I love our life together.

I’ve always struggled with feeling like I’m not worth anything. So
much abuse sent me that message. I believed I was here to
be used by horrible people and discarded like trash. But God
is re-teaching me the truth about who I am and my worth.