It pains my heart to even think about leaving my husband out here without me. It hurts to bear the thought of leaving so soon before he comes back. However, it truly is not healthy for me to stay here. He lived here for three years without me, he can make it a few more months. People say I don’t take control of my life? People tell me I point the finger all of the time? I take the blame for everything that goes wrong in my life. Everything. If I could get away with blaming everyone else I think I’d be a hell of a lot happier for it.
I have got no one I can talk to, no one I can go to, and that is very difficult for me. I have never had this sort of problem before, ever. I’ve spent the last four months blaming myself for that, but I am through. This is not a problem that lies with me. It’s not. I have been lead to believe that I am the only possible reason, that it could be nothing else, and that simply is not true. I have tried and tried and tried and now I am done. Friendships go two ways and I truly am tired of putting in a hell of a lot of effort only to be rewarded with very little.
I simply hate the idea of abandoning this. The stubbornness in me refuses to accept defeat, but the realistic half of my brain sees this how it is. I have been diagnosed with depression and my health is not something I like to fuck around with. It does me no good to spend months in stressful isolation. I have spent the last three weeks spending every waking moment trying to be positive. I have been extra careful not to complain about my own life, but to listen to others and to talk of things that are not myself. And did that do me any good in the end? No.
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