What Is It About Me...

That part of me you hate so much is actually the part that I like the most. That's the part I'm not gonna change, Hubby- so get used to it or get fucked.

It offends me that you don't like or accept me.

It bothers me that you roll your eyes at the things I say and do.

Why shouldn't I be me? What's so wrong with who I am? You are the only one who hates and criticises. You hate it when I confront you about the harsh things you say to me. Don't you even care that you've hurt me? Why does it have to be me who forgives and forgets? You know I will; I always have.

Is it wrong to be creative and thoughtful?

The point, I suppose, is that for fifteen years I've been trying to get this guy to like me and he truth is he never will. Am I obsessed by him? Probably. I've written two books about how he makes me feel. I have a blog that is dedicated to him. I think about him more thanI do myself. It's all a contradiction- isn't it? My obsession is self-obsession after all.

The only time people ever tell me they feel sorry for me is when I tell them about my relationship with my Hubby. How awful- they say- no; it couldn't be like That, could it?

Don't you just wish I was making it all up? The point is You know I'm not. Hubby knows it's all true. I spend all day waiting to spend time with him and he doesn't even want me to be around. How familiar does that scenario sound to you Hubby? Only our whole relationship in one sentance.

How can he say I am the nothing at the bottom of nothingness?

I had to turn my head away so the punches didn't hurt so much. He held me on the floor by the throat and choked me. Did I make that part up, Hubby? Am I exaggerating again? 'You mean nothing to this household' means get your own stupid self to work from now on. Wash your own skidmarks Shitter. If don't even like me- why be jealous?

Fuck my head hurts where he slammed it into the wall- five or six times wasn't it? At least I ripped that ugly shirt of his into shreds off his back. That shirt stank. My head feels like mush.

My Hubby is a joke if he thinks he has standards or morals when it comes to women. He's just another misogynist pig when it comes down to it; someone who thinks it's okay to beat up on someone who is physically smaller just because they can. It just shows how weak a person he is.
I just sort of went with it- if I'd tried to avert disaster I would have knocked myself out when he threw me down the front steps into the tree. I mean What must people think of us?

Doesn't he hear our Little Son crying at our knees?

Don't let anyone call M a slut but slam my head into the wall and tell me you still have Morals and a Standard. Your standard SUCKS as much as my head hurts right now. For all your talk, Hubby, you don't know the meaning of the word.

I'm going to continue feeling upset about the fight we had at least until I'm no longer sore from it. It would also be nice to hear an apology. It's been three days and I still ache all over.

From where my skull was tenderised.

From where your knee crushed into my sternum just above my heart and it still hurts to breathe and cough (it could be heart disease I suppose. Or a broken heart). He's not sorry so I know it will happen again. Because whatever it is about me that makes him get so angry that he would hit me repeatedly and bash my head into a wall repeatedly and choke the breath out of me and hold me down with such force on my chest and slam me backwards by the throat into the wall. What made Golden Shower Boy do the exact same thing to me seventeen years ago?

What is it about me that made them do it?

My Hubby says that I never leave him alone- well how the fuck am I supposed to talk to him about anything? And when will he let me talk about the things I'm concerned about? I can't speak- all I get is anger if I say the wrong thing or bring up things he doesn't want to acknowledge or discuss. I don't want to be beaten just because I want to talk about a difficult subject for him.

I asked him to go back to the counsellor and he blatantly refused before asking if I could still drive him down to the pub. What happened to give and take? I know why he won't go- He thinks the whole thing was my fault.

What have I done besides try and improve things? How does that give him the right to call me useless? Fuck, this is so frustrating. He's like two different people at once. Why doesn't he care that he hurt me? Why isn't he at least sorry? He went too hard on me; I didn't need subduing- I was only fighting back because he was hurting me.

If he hits me again there is every chance he would break a bone or worse. That was the worst he's ever been- he's never hit me that many times at once before. There was at least ten to the back of the head. There was at least five to the forehead where he banged it into the wall. He thought about head-butting me but couldn't go through with it. He squared me up a few times but decided against leaving bruises on my face.

I have a vague feeling he told me he wanted to kill me as he was choking me on the bed.

I know if I had struggled I would have only made it worse; I only saw anger and death in his eyes. At one point I even thought he might try and fuck me just to prove to me that he could.

Quite frankly the whole thing scared the shit out of me.

And yet he still had the gall to tell me the next day that he thinks I 'get off' on fighting with him.