Skip to main content
My heart is sore. That's the only way I can describe it.

When I left you, New Boo hadn't come home. He finally made it in -- the next night. What he told me gave me more pause than I'm ready for. His explanation was that he'd done "something bad" -- I can't bring myself to say what -- and he didn't want me to see him that way.

Okay...I have to admit that I've NEVER dealt with that one. I didn't know what to do at all. For one, I realize that his issues have nothing to do with me because that's not the kind of person I am. Secondly, I love him, and I want to help, but this is so far removed from everything I know.

So that was bad, but I thought I'd be okay. Then he did something similar two nights later where he didn't come home until 2:30 in the morning. I was livid because we'd just had the same fight two days ago. His drunken philosophy was that he'd come home, so I should be okay. Never mind that he was drunk out of his mind.

We fought. And I don't mean just yelling and screaming. There was beating on doors, pushing and shoving. These are things that I just don't do normally, but I was taken outside of myself. Literally. The worst part -- he didn't even remember what happened the next day. He was like, "How did I end up on the couch?"

Now I'm really at a loss. I was so upset the day after that I left my house and stayed all day. I did it because my home felt like a war zone and I couldn't deal with it. The bad part? New Boo didn't even try to find out where I was. I came home at 2am, and he didn't even flinch. I'm guessing this is the way I'm supposed to react to what he does.

I don't want to live like this. I can't.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

On Barack, the Nomination, and Black Love

I'm so excited about Barack Obama! I know I'm just joining the teeming millions when I say that, but I think something this big is worth repeating. Never before in the history of our country has a Black man been in a position to lead the free world, and it feels good. I'm so glad that I've lived long enough to see this day.

Beside the fact that Barack is a great candidate for the Democratic party, I'm moved by his relationship with Michelle. Not since The Cosby Show have we seen a successful Black couple who have a genuine and sincere love and respect for one another. What makes their relationship so special is that it's real -- not the product of someone's imagination.

I obviously don't know Michelle Obama, but I want to grow up to be just like her. I love the fact that she doesn't NEED Barack. She's strong, smart, and successful in her own right, yet secure enough to fall back and be supportive of her man. That's something that all y…

Out of Time

Time. You always think you have more...until you don't. I'm there.

I just left the doctor, where we discussed my fibroid. She said it was huge. So huge, in fact, that she couldn't get it all. If there's a need for another surgery, it'll be a hysterectomy.

I want babies. I want to be someone's mother. I also want to be someone's wife before I become someone's mother. And therein lies my dilemma.

It would be stupid for me to have a baby with My Teddy Bear. That's the reality of my life right now. But it would be even stupider to have a child with New Boo. Not only does he not want any more babies, he does't take care of the ones he already has. I would be an absolute idiot to attempt procreation with him. And as quiet as it's kept, I'm not interested in raising a child alone. I want my baby to have a mother AND a father.

So here I am, a 46-year-old woman who's run out of time.

Post Mortem on The Breakup

So...I told you that I'd finally given My Teddy Bear the boot...

...Or so I thought.

Apparently I didn't use the right words when I gave him his walking papers. He's under the impression that we're "on a break" and that we're still together.

 That is NOT the impression I wanted to give him.

But what do you say when a man is sobbing?

I said, "Let's just step back and heal ourselves and revisit this later." What I should've said was, "It's been fun, but I'm done, son."

Now he wants to talk to me. In person. I don't want to.

But if I do...I have something to say. He won't like it.

What I want to say is that we've all experienced loss. The difference is that we don't wallow in it. We know how to mourn the loss and move on. We never forget, but we release the pain of it and learn to treasure the time we had with the person.

What I found is that he wallows. That's why he eats the way he does. Instead of mo…