The only real reason for sticking it out is because I don’t have anywhere else to go with my son. I don’t live a life of luxury by any means–our house is not in great shape but it’s standing, my car is tiny and annoying but gets me where I’m going. However, I’m not willing to lower my standard of living where my son is concerned. We live in a pretty decent neighborhood with a good mix of races. I like the diversity of the region were I grew up, if not anything else.

I’m still here because I have no better options. Maybe I could convince an old friend to throw in on a house, but that would mean living with a LOT of people I’d rather not share my space with. That would mean enduring the way another person parents their own child, which is EXTREMELY different from my parenting style. I don’t scream at DS, or bully him for doing something wrong, or hit him. EVER. My discipline is restriction and stern talks. (ie. If you don’t want to be a good listener, we won’t go to XYZ. or That’s not how you behave in the store. You don’t get a new book/toy by screaming at me.) 

I’m not going to bring my kid to live with smokers OR vapers, unless they keep that poison for outside use. I’m not going to bring my kid around someone who can’t speak a single complete sentence without the word “fuck” in it when they’re around kids. Don’t get me wrong, I swear like a goddamn pirate when I’m with other adults–but I still have the manners and common sense to read the room first. 

I have no options. It’s just *keep living with him*. Keep pretending I still want to be a part of this marriage, when I’m so often thinking the words “I just don’t love you anymore” and “I just can’t take this anymore” and “I want out.”

The trouble is that I keep feeling sorry for the side of him he shows me just enough of to keep me feeling sorry for thinking bad thoughts about him. To be honest, I don’t know if even he realizes he’s manipulating me. I think it’s something that’s so second nature to him that he doesn’t even know it’s there. 

And you know what? I don’t care. I don’t care that alcoholism is an illness. I don’t care if he’s on the autism spectrum. It doesn’t matter if it’s his fault or not. What matters is that it’s not MY fucking fault either and I shouldn’t have to spend the rest of my life suffering for things he choses not to work on or even acknowledge. He could STILL work on himself, but he *jokingly* told me “I’m too old to grow”.

Well, you know what, motherfucker? The day you decided you were “too old to grow” was the day I outgrew you. 

Now I’m stuck trying to dig my way out of this living grave with no friends and no goddamn options. I fucking hate you.