So I realize that marriage is not a competition. I do, honestly. HOWEVER, why is it that my hubs has to be better at everything than I am? He’s better at losing weight. He’s better at his job. He’s smarter than me, though I’d probably never admit it to him. He’s better with finances. He’s better at FINDING a job. He’s just… I’m so sick of being the one that has to “d0 better”. It’s so exhausting. I feel like I’m always having to catch up. I’m probably a better housekeeper/cook/organizer than he is, but it’s not like that matters because being a housewife isn’t exactly an option. He’s better at all the REAL WORLD stuff. I’m just better at stupid things. … like being OCD.
Today is just a hard day. … It’s been a hard week. I got my second spinal injection a couple weeks ago, but I’ve still really been hurting. It didn’t work as well as the first one, which has me pretty down and fairly exhausted. I’m trying to push through it and pretend like I’m ok though, because I honestly don’t want hubs knowing that it didn’t work. He’s talking about not having kids because of the pain, and I just… I don’t think I can do that. All I’ve ever wanted to be is a mom, and I don’t know that I can have that taken from me. So I’m trying to pretend like I’m better and ok, even though I’m not much better than I was before the shot.
I just need something really good to happen… and instead I turn another year older this weekend. I hate birthdays. There’s the one my family forgot, until after I’d gone to bed that night. Then my dad woke me up to apologize. Mind you, earlier in the day I was getting in trouble for acting so grumpy because I should have been happy for the holiday. And mind you, they remembered my cousin’s and sister’s birthdays during the 2 days before mine, but they forgot mine. Yeah… that was an awesome birthday. Then there’s all the years I waited for bio mom to send me something or call, but she never did. I just… birthday’s suck. We build them up as this great day – a day to celebrate yourself and yourlife. Instead no one really cares and you just end up feeling sorry for yourself because no one gives a shit that it’s your day. It’s just another day, except this day was built up in your mind as something special, but it’s not. So the balloon pops. Every year. And then you just get older.