Rant. An awful one.

I had taken a short break for a wedding that had me in anxiety. So seriously. And I’m more sad than pissed that these things has taken over.

On the night (Wednesday) before we drove out 6 hours away, I began packing. DH had been away for work and was to travel home. We both know he had football (soccer) that night. So DH came, got ready and left around 6.30PM.

  1. So, I came home from work at 6.00PM, with exhaustion both mental and physical, I was left dumbfounded to pack for 5 pax. I asked the kids to take out their underpants/panties, jeans, shorts, sleeping attire, clothes for roughhousing, clothes for clean preppy stuffs.

a. What turned out to be yelling at Child 1, for only moving after 2 F*CKING HOURS (seriously and literally) each time I asked him to do something. The things would be, to bathe, to bring out the clothes, to sort out any homework, to eat dinner.

b. Child 2 began to only take his things and throwing them on the floor for me to collect. Then when I asked for t-shirts, he began circling in his room for an entire 30 minutes. Literally. Just going in circles.

c. Child 3, well, she couldn’t find anything. Defined good clothes as stay-at-home ones and vice versa. I could see where the dress was, identified it to her, in stripes and its colours. But nope, she couldn’t see it. I have bionic eyes, haven’t I? Yes. All moms do.

d. Then DH comes home, immediately asking me which attire should he have on? “Which yellow or gold?” | “How about this? (puts it on) | “Hey, I’ve go this!” (takes the earlier off and tries this one) | and this list continues for the next 6 pieces while I just sit there feeling COMPLETELY FAT with self-disappointment that because I cannot fit into anything that I have. F*ck you dude.

d. After that, DH left. And he just didn’t come home afterwards. Really, f*ck you.

2.  Here’s the problem:

a. DH loves to colour coordinate our clothes. I don’t f*cking care really. So it’s stressful for me that the wedding has a colour theme for something that I can NO LONGER fit into. My MIL is also quite like that when it comes to themes – like seriously, I don’t give a f*ck. But he’s not home. The floor is strewn with clothes – but without the ones to wear at the wedding. There is no luggage bag in sight. He only told me which ones would PROBABLY FIT all our clothes before he let his words trailed off behind with one foot in the car. Me – totally mindf*cked.

b. The plan discussed 2 days before, was to move out at 4.00AM. Then MIL said, it was too early for FIL to drive – so they will move at 6.30AM. So later on after of that conversation DH called me on Wednesday itself to say, we will move at the same time with PIL (Parents-In-Law) so that if FIL is tired, MAYBE I can help to backup drive for a length. Okay. Note to self, BACKUP.

c. One of DH’s brother’s family will follow but they will travel on their own terms, which is fine by me. But on that fateful Wednesday night, his wife (whom I will call as Cynthia) told me that the plans have changed…

i. The time for travel with PIL is now at 5.30AM – not 4.00AM or 6.30AM.

ii. and I WILL BE DRIVING. …okay…

iii. Thank God for Cynthia or I would still remain completely in the dark with all these f*cking sh*t stuffings.

d. By 12.00AM, I had lounged out 3 suitcases from the cabin OUTSIDE the house in the dark by myself. Filled in what I could. I had clothes from the bedroom door to the toilet. Trails of clothes NOT REQUIRED, NOT SUITABLE and OKAY THEY CAN TRAVEL WITH US were everywhere.

e. By 12.30AM, I composed a hate message to DH and sent it as he came through the bedroom door. Then he said, “There is a change of plan…” that was the cue for me to flip out.

– I have done what I could in pure exhaustion. I did it all alone. Without help. So don’t say or ask or comment about anything left behind, something we didn’t bring, or what could we have brought with us.

– You expect me to settle everything by myself. You could’ve come home earlier rather than so selfishly not see this entire situation.

– And then I had to find out from your sister-in-law Cynthia who tells me now, we move out at 5:30AM, and I AM DRIVING and it’s freaking 12:30AM and NOTHING is ready! How the f*ck am I supposed to get enough rest to f*cking drive? But hey, I can completely drive you thin right now.

f. He settled the remaining items. I felt like strangling him, then have a nice time with a dildo vibrator, and then have wine in my bed.

I really hate him. I have been asking myself why I remarried this man when it was selfishness that made me disappointed in him.

Well okay, clearly I’m still pissed about it.

Because Child 2 is hospitalised, while Child 1 and Child 3 are on medication needing to use the nebuliser every few hours. He said he had important work to do on his laptop that night. So we rotated, I went home to bathe where he will exchange with me, bringing Child 1 and Child 3 home with him after that.

  1. Child 3 called me shortly after they’ve arrived home asking me which medication should she be taking. “Honey, where’s Daddy?” She said, “Daddy’s gone out”.
  2. He didn’t bring home their medication.
  3. He doesn’t care.

I have nobody to tell this to all in length – full length where there is more and more, really. All these frustrations that I impose onto the world. It may do some good to those needing to hear it.

So not checking what the f*ck I’ve written but I’m just posting it on here.

I feel so f*cked. If only it feels as good as it shows on xrated movies.

Apart of that, my phone is broken and have no means of communication of self-distraction with anything on the web. Or even my Contacts list!

I hate myself.

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Rant. An awful one.

2 thoughts on “Rant. An awful one.

  1. Don’t hate yourself. You’re not your circumstances. This sounds awful, and I’m so sorry you’re having to go through it. I certainly understand how it is to feel like there’s no way to set boundaries or make requirements for the way that others treat you. But it certainly sounds like you were handed the short end of the stick with this assignment. Sending love.

    Like

    1. I feel like I’m not heard. The invisible hand that complete puzzles and provides for others but not appareciated.

      Your response has made me feel my thoughts and words are present. Validation. Support. Thank you.

      Liked by 1 person

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