The romantic in me has been killed. Not brutally murdered, but slowly poisoned, the toxin spreading from its fingers and toes to its heart.
I’ve had my heart broken before, of course, but eventually the initial searing pain subsided and became an occasional ache when I thought about it.
It started with little jokes about each other.
Then it was mean jokes about each other. Then it was being mean and inconsiderate to each other.
I never thought it was gonna be this way. I thought we made a great team but sometimes I think we forget what being a team means.
Maybe I expected too much, expected the things I didn’t like to change. I realize now that it’s unrealistic. People don’t really change.
I’m about to have another baby and I’m terrified of life after the realization that maybe true love doesn’t exist. Or at least not the way I thought it did.
It’s always the same. I’ll be hurt and one of two things will happen. I’ll be told “I’m sorry, it’s just that blah blah blah” or “I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time” and it’s gotten far past the point where I even want to hear apologies anymore. I just wanna see this promised change and it hurts so much more knowing that it won’t happen because then it feels like I’m just being lied to. I don’t feel physically unsafe in my home but emotionally I’m on the edge every day, wondering if I’m gonna have my expectations let down or met that day. More and more my expectations are let down and eventually lowered.
I’m in so much heartache and I don’t know how to stop it other than lowering my expectations and reducing my co-dependency. Easier said than done.