Where are you?

 Dear X,

Where are you? I need to be held now. I need to be felt. Angel bumped his head on the TV screen in our car yesterday as he entered the car, and now he claims that he has a concussion and has been resting all day in his room without fulfilling any duties at all at home. I have never rested this much even right after both my c-sections. He bumps his head all the time because he’s stupid and clumsy and has slow reflex.

I am so fed up with this. He is just not a good father. He can barely perform his fatherly duties let alone a husband’s. Why didn’t you show up to take care of me, X? Why don’t you love me? Why can’t you take care of me? I am so exhausted and burned. My whole body hurts. My hormones are messed up. I want to be able to sleep all day too, but that’s not an option for me, and yet Angel can easily have that option because I am a superhuman. I don’t want to be a superhuman. I want to be a pampered woman. Why is it just not in my destiny to be one?

My kids pamper me though. I think I understand why mothers always say that their sons are their boyfriends or lovers from their past life. I get it now. Maybe they are my X’s; we are destined to be together this way. 

I’m depressed and I want to cry very much. I feel layers of sadness burying me. I wish for one day I could feel comfortable and pain free. I want to be slender and soft and effeminate. I wish a strong man could drive me and the kids for a nice meal, and he’d be the one feeding the kids without me asking him to. He would just say, “go ahead and enjoy your food. I’ve got everything in control.” Then he’d feed me a nice spoonful of strawberry ice cream, like I was also his baby. While he was driving, we would all fall asleep and I could lean on his shoulders. After we got home, we could all take a bath together with the kids in our giant jacuzzi. Then we all went to bed together with his nighttime story and my singing.

I want to be taken care of so bad; I want to be pampered. I do feel loved by my kids but not by my husband. I want to feel felt; I wish he could understand how I feel. But of course he doesn’t because he’s narcissistic. Why am I so stuck here? If this is the price the universe wants me to pay for my two kids, then I’ll happily take it. This is the only way I can convince myself that I can live like this.