The End

This isn’t what I thought it was going to be.

Sure, I love him, but I don’t know what difference that makes anymore.

I don’t have anything left, or barely, and I don’t even know how to buy food or pay for the roof over my head. I don’t remember ever being this low.

I had a job that I loved, my daughter that I loved even more, my furnishings, etc. All I thought was missing was someone reliable and caring, without addiction issues, to share my life with.

I can’t help but feel that that was a mistake, and my decision to marry, even more so. I know, I know, it was my choice, and all choices have consequences. I just wasn’t expecting this.

Fabrice is a sweet man. He is a good man. He is trying, but doesn’t know how to do life in the US, especially not in this economic crisis. He is a good person to be with, most of the time. He was a cop in France for 20 years. Before that, he was an MP for his year of then-required military service. Before that he worked at McDonald’s and in the factories that his mother and aunt, Marie-France, worked in. He had never been without a job. He doesn’t drink. Those were my standards – I’m pretty tough to satisfy, huh?! I thought he would be the right partner for me. I thought he would help be bear the burden that his life. I thought I could count on him, and that this marriage would help me not have to do every goddamn thing in the world by myself. Once again, I was wrong.

Since we have been in the United States, at any time, while he claims to want to work, and goes to English school religiously, the effort stops there and is replaced by anger, criticism, disrespect, and hurt. It seems that he cannot do things for himself, and waits for me to do everything for him: writing his résumé in English, applying for jobs, talking to people on the phone, making sure his bills are paid, and to hell with mine or with my needs.

He received a settlement check for his motorcycle accident in September 2007. He chose to pay his mother back everything he owed her, and to hell with me, or even himself. I know, I know, that was his money, and he had every right to spend it the way he saw fit. However, he made that decision with full knowledge that doing so left “us,” or me, without money to pay for housing, or food, or for any of my bills and obligations. The same thing happened with our tax return, and I am the one who worked in the US and paid the taxes. Now, though, because of his choices, I am actually going hungry for the first time in my life, I haven’t paid a bill or even bought a new pair of socks since 2007, I was evicted, lost everything I owned, lost my daughter who couldn’t stand my depression and anxiety anymore, and now the few belongings I have left are in Minnesota, whereas I came back to him, full of misplaced hope, believing that “we” would get my things, and my animals back as soon as we started getting paid.

He came back, as he was offered a job with the City of Pacific Grove Police Department, they began his background check a month ago, and nothing has come to fruition since. He worked last weekend as a chauffeur, but won’t be paid until the 30th. What little money he will get then has been spent who knows how many times over by now.

I have a job, and have been through the training process. I have to take a test and be certified before I can start working. I would have done so yesterday, but had some connection problems. Hopefully, I will be able to take my test today. Not that there’s much of me left for hoping anymore.

I basically raised myself. I know some of you did too. But, my sisters, for example, at least always had one another. I have had to do most things on my own, and have been on my own since I was 16. I can’t do it anymore. I need to be able to take care of my depression, anxiety, and associated ailments, if I am to be expected to move forward with life. I need to be able to pay my bills, take care of my kids, and NOT HAVE TO DO EVERY F***ING THINGS ALONE ANYMORE. I need someone who, even if they don’t “take care” of me, at least is capable of alleviating the burden to an extent, instead of becoming even more of a burden than anything else.

I don’t know what to do or how to move forward. I am tired of life, tired of people, tired of trying, tired of failure, tired of going hungry (even if it is a good thing, weight-wise), tired of always, always, always taking care of other people, and putting them before myself or my own needs.

I am truly at the end of whatever rope I ever had, and I purely and simply cannot do this anymore, especially not alone.