All it is is sex

SALT 'N' PEPA
"Let's Talk About Sex"

Let's talk about sex, baby
Let's talk about you and me
Let's talk about all the good things
And the bad things that may be
Let's talk about sex
Let's talk about sex
Let's talk about sex
Let's talk about sex

I swear this is the only song that goes through every guys head when they talk to a sexual interest. In my opinion I am sick of it.

I have a place I visit. I call it anonymous. People write all kinds of stuff. I like to look for cries for help. But I also love posting. My posts are always bitching. In anonymous I can say whatever I want and nobody knows who I am or how to find me. I can be racists, perverted, invest in male bashing, or  my personal favorite send scary ass photos to people. I'm free. Anybody can comment on anything posted. Say whatever they want. Nobody can report you and nobody can follow you.

Apparently every guy on anonymous thinks it's a sex site. I will write 'I cry in pain from my leg pain'. I will get replies like 'I'll make you cry from pleasure' and 'you can wrap your legs around me and I'll make you forget the pain'. I mean come on. Guys post show me your boobs or any lonely women want to chat. Girls post 'check out my new dress' or 'should I get a tongue ring'.

Every conversation begins with a chat from a post followed by age, sex, location.  Then a sex question is not to far behind. When I say I'm a 37 year old fat married mother with grey hairs, stretch marks, and blubber. They still ask for a picture. I tell them no. They think sending me a picture of themselves will convince me. I still say no, so they send a picture of their penis. Oh ew gross. Does doing that actually work to get someone to send you a picture? I never indulge in those conversations. In fact I block all sexual all of them. Sometimes I will purposely post something sexual just to weed out the pervs. Block block block buh bye block.

Is sex all guys want anymore? To me it feels like it. Its like screw me or SCREW you. What happened to getting to know a person? Though I have gained an excessive amount of weight I still catch guys looking at my breasts more than looking at my face. I'm glad I'm no longer on the market.  I would never survive the sex first part. I'm about getting to know someone. Even my husband today told me to show more breast so we could get more money back. Lets just say I was not wearing a flattering shirt and I had no makeup on. 

I guess I just don't understand. I'm a highly sexual person. Have been since before I lost virginity. Was a damn good tease but would never please. But I never have and never will flash my tit or rub my clit just to get a date.  

Freedom

Where does it say thou shalt never leave the house after childbirth?

I know when you become a parent the life of free roaming becomes few and far between. But nobody said it was going to be completely obsolete.  I never really was a party girl. Well after 21 I wasn't. So I don't miss it. What I miss is the wanna hang calls and saying yes. On a whim calls for help and me rushing to their side. The calls to come over for dinner or to see a movie.

I swore I would never trap my husband in the house. Previous posts prove that.  But I did not realize that it meant I would never get to leave. For 1 day, once a year, I get to go out. Only did it twice, but it was the best nights ever. I stayed in a motel, got wasted, ate junk food, went swimming, and just talked. Did not happen this year as the husband got mad about my previous years outing. I'm a literal hermit. I only leave the house for doctors and going to the store.  I had requested to be let out once a month, with no hubby or kid, for a few hours, and was rejected quickly. I asked this last year, then 6 months later. I just want to go sit at Dennys and write. I have to notify a month in advance if I need him to watch our son. He gives me no notification. He just waits until a few hours before he leaves to notify me.  I'm lucky to even go to get groceries alone.

Now my husband. He has unlimited freedom. He has friends that invite him places. During the warm season he goes herping every weekend or every day depending on the work shift.. In the cooler times he goes fishing or bopping. He has gone to dinner with coworkers, concerts with friends, gaming parties, horror fests, film festivals, over to friends houses, baseball/basketball/football games, house parties and arcade/bowling (though that one was a work function). Me, wherever I go my son, or husband and son, come too. I don't get to go places alone. Everyday it gets harder to go out as my son gets more unmanageable. People have stopped inviting me because they know I need to take my son. Nobody can watch him as nobody can handle him. The daddy is too busy to be able to watch him. He has his own life, as mentioned above.

What did I do to deserve this? Did I sign a contract that says you are the mother. Your job is to take care of your husband, your child and your house. Do not ever leave the house, say goodbye to your friends. Live through your childless friends, or friends who have a lot of sitters. Your only responsibility is in the house, stay there. Its killing me. I want to work just so I can get out of the house and interact with others while not having to keeping my child restrained, quiet, or calm. Screw having a life outside of the house.

The last time my husband was stuck with the kid alone was only  for a few hours when I took an emergency trip to Kansas for a week. He had to hand our son over to my best friend, that night I left, while I was away. He was working the night shift and nobody could capably watch him but her. Though she had complications with him also. The time before that he had him for 26 hours. It was my one time a year away from it all. He got mad I came back a few hours late because I needed to eat before I came home. Any other time he has watched our son it was either because I needed to go to store, (he was only with him for maybe 2 hours), or because I was sick. Even when I was sick I still found myself feeding them and scolding my son. Like I have said in my blogs. I am with our son 24/7, me only me. Hubby is in the same room with him maybe 3 hours every day. Even then his face is buried in his phone, were eating, or  watching tv.

Yes I am a mother. Yes I wanted him. Yes I knew my social life would be diminished. What I did not know is that I would never be permitted a life outside of the house. That I was only here to take care of everything but myself.

Is there Romance after marriage?

What happened to romance? I'm talking about after you have married. They work to impress you but then it's another day at work after you say I DO.

So what you get married and it's all over? No wonder there are so many divorces. The spouse is like ho hum I put a ring on it, now cook clean and care for me and the kids. That's not the 3 c 's I want are compeer , courting, and compassion. Why fight so hard to get that ring if the battle is over after I DO. 

Of all the guys I ever dated I think maybe 3 were full on romantic. They opened doors for me, pulled out my chair, never let me walk by the curb, bought I love you trinkets, wrote poems/songs, made sure the world knew I was his, held me close everywhere, protected me, called just to hear my voice, and would open and close the car door. They were highly attentive to my likes, they would go out of their way to get me something or take me somewhere that I fancied.  I had 20 boyfriends before my husband, and only 3 did that for me. And only one I had sex with.  Has romance just died. It is definitely gone after the I DO.

I see people today that use the Internet to find relationships. They rely on a computer to find their matches. What happened to looking for love? What happened to hookups from friends? What happened to stalking the barrista? Now it's match.com says we're 87% compatible. Next thing you know it's I DO.

I'm still romantic. I'm forever thinking of him everywhere I go. Everything I look at I wonder if he would like it. I fix him his favorite meals for dinner.

I write I love you in hot sauce.

I serve him food in bed

and make him breakfast.

When I run up to the gas station I always get him a drink, his favorite chips, or a food he loves.When it is gift season I hunt for something that he can desperately use. I don't buy a movie and a gift card every time. I actually write down stuff that he could use, then when its time, I already have gift ideas. I visit him at work and bring him food or a drink from his favorite places. I text him I love you. I am always thinking of how to make him happy. And I started this before I DO.

Doesn't anyone learn what makes the other one happy anymore? I would get more excited about going horse back riding than getting a gift card. (unless gift card is for horseback riding) I would prefer a box of chocolate covered cherries over going out to dinner. (unless it is oriental) I would jump up and down for a vacation to a theme park, than watch a movie. And no a movie about theme parks does not cut it. But the romance is gone. Now it is just making love. I  guess if you want the romance to be forever don't say I DO.

Paranoia

I have no trust for nobody.

I drive like everyone is out to get me. Like I'm being chased. I hate when anyone follows me for more than 2 miles. If they turn when I turn more than once I will not continue to my destination. I will instead travel to a heavily populated area. Preferably ones with security cameras.I will wait through a lot of traffic til a really safe opening has appeared.

I always think someone is up to something. Especially when they become really super nice. People are not really nice to me unless they want something. Or if they have done something bad. I watch everyone around me. I don't leave my property to far out of my sight. My purse is always attached. If I'm staying somewhere and need to leave my stuff, I stack it in a way that if it's touched I will know. If I let someone use, say my lighter, I will eyeball that thing till I have it again. Yes I have trust issues.

All through my life I have had things stolen from me. Toys, money, boyfriends, food, positions at work. The one that bugged me the most was my zippo. I had an x boyfriend over and he had  brought friends. One of his friends took the zippo. Now my x knew it was mine and took it back. I had that thing while in high school. But of course he lost it in his house. I never saw it again. I was only attached to it cause my jail bird brother had given it to me. It was all black with a skull on it. Looked like this.

When I was in high school my little click I hung out with were thieves too. They stole cigarettes and money. Mostly it was the girls going after every other girls man. I swear it was a game of share what ya got. I usually got the guys twice.In the middle then at the end. I slept with none of them but they all came back.

At my jobs I would be the hardest working person there. Always on time. Always doing my job and other peoples jobs. I brought more money in than any other associate. I would chauffer people to and from work. I would drive to other locations to fix stuff. I never wanted the district manager position.. Though I did play district manager when ours was out medically or when we did not have one period. But when raises were getting passed around I was skipped. Because I did not bring in more customers I was not allowed. Though I was the one who was doing everyone elses job. The ones who always called in and were late got the raise.

Even as a young kid other kids stole my toys. They went home with my dolls or cars.

After highschool I had guys who cheated on me. This forever scarred me. Even now in marriage I feel my husband is stepping out on me. They Stole my stuff and sold it. Everyone who came over  I watched intently. I locked all the rooms they did not need to be in. I still do it.  Whenever someone goes into another room I listen that they are not wondering into other areas.

So I am sure you can see where my trust issues come from. 

The Calendar

For the past 4 years I have kept track of all I do. I started it for the epic fight. The one that kinda happens every 3 months or so but never goes full blown. Its the I do plenty fight. This calendar keeps track of all the things that I do and all the things he does not do. Here is as of this months.

Every day has a line through it. The top line is me. The bottom line is Jerry. If you see a N or a W on his half it means that he worked. I still have the past couple years calendars. I may seem conceded. I am not sure I really know what word I am looking for. But it is ammo. Here are the last 3 years.

2011

2012  

2013 

Every 3 months we argue because I asked for help. It lasts a couple days then everything is back to the way it was. As you can see in the above pictures my side is more filled. The 2010 calendar was destroyed by my son or is would say work on my side also.

This is just one of my shorter blogs.

Storm

I never really wanted to write fully about this but a conversation with a friend had me thinking about it. This is about Robert James VanDeMark (Storm). The man who ruined me.

I was working for a telemarketing company. I was not dating at the time. Was not really interested. I had decided one day to hang out after work instead of going home to my moms house. I had a guy who chatted me up frequently named Jeremy. While I was talking to Jeremy, Storm came near. At first he was just listening in. But after a few minutes and getting closer her had found his way into our conversation. Jeremy, not liking him much, had to get home and left us standing there. We talked for maybe 10 min when I left too. The next day Storm was everywhere I was. He wrote me a note saying he thought I was an ice queen and was scared to approach me. It was awhile before I finally accepted a date from him. I am someone who dates for the inside and not the outside. The hot guys are always into themselves. He was nicely put together. The dating started really nice. Never had been treated like he treated me. Nobody has treated me like this since. Enough to make a girl swoon. Opening doors for me, pulling out my seat, walking with his arm around my waist. He also paid for everything and was extremely protective of me. He bought me gifts. Stupid small stuff like fake flowers or my favorite candy. He treated me like a trophy. Couldn't keep his hands off of me. I felt wanted. He took me to concerts to see people that I loved and even took me horseback riding. It was incredible. I was on cloud 9. We were down right naughty together too. Had sex everywhere, underage drinking at the bars, smoking pot. We ended up moving in together. We both worked. Started using stronger drugs. Mostly did it to stay awake for the jobs. We would go in at 6am get off at 3. Then we would go in at 5pm for the second job and get off at 1am. We worked at a temp agency. Everyone who worked with us would come back to our place to party. We had booze and food and drugs.

It was in the apartment when his demeanor changed. All was good for a month then he started getting abusive. I don't only mean physically but also sexually and emotionally.

It started out sexually. It was not like I never gave it up but apparently I did not give it up enough. He would throw me to the couch and rape me. Every position anywhere. In the pool in the neighbors bed, in the backseat of his car, even in the bushes or behind dumpsters.  I even snuck away at work to satisfy him. We had sex so often that it rubbed my insides raw. It hurt to pee and walk. Thank god that I was doing drugs. A lot of times he would flip me over and get me from behind too, dry. I would fight him on this and he would punch me in the head. I eventually just started laying there, crying into a pillow, and hoping it would end soon. The tears and the screaming just angered him more. I was slapped and punched plenty during intercourse. My hair pulled. Cloth shoved into my mouth to keep me quiet. My ribs and head were bruised. Later my legs started getting hit too. Thank god for make up and long sleeve shirts. I am  thankful he never wanted to share me with his friends. I was forced to walk around the house naked so that I was always ready. Which seemed like every 5 minutes. I spent some days numb.  In our sexual encounters he started calling me ugly, fat and covering my face with a pillow so he would not have to look at me. Then he would go into the bathroom when he thought I was asleep and masturbate. I questioned him on this and got put in my place. I lived our relationship in pain and constantly stoned.

The physical aspect of the relationship was all day every day. He would pull my hair to get me out of his way or  shove me into a wall. I got quick on my feet.  Aside from the beatings during sex he started, I guess I would call it training me, to be the perfect woman. It began with throwing me to the floor and kicking me every time I tried to stand up. This was him teaching me that my place is on the floor at his feet. I would get kicked again or slapped in the mouth if I spoke out of turn. That's also when he started  aggressively jerking me around everywhere. If I was not moving quickly enough he would reach back and grab my arm or my hair and yank me next to him. It turned out that he liked me walking behind him and made it a rule that I should always walk 4 feet behind him with my head down. I was ok with this. It stopped the yanking and I wasn't within reach of his fist.  The next step of training was the house. I was to have the house clean, dinner ready, and things prepared for our guests. We always had guests. I was not to eat with him. I would serve him then retreat to the kitchen and serve any guests. There I would eat and wait for his command. I barely ate. He was always calling on me. Once he was done, I was done. Whether I was done eating or not. (This is probably where my unhealthy addiction to Davids Original Sunflower Seeds came about.) I was to clean it up and play hostess. After our guests would leave he would correct me at what I had done wrong.

The abuse did not just stop there. After sex we always had a cigarette. I would lay naked in the bed with the ashtray on my leg, belly or breast. He would miss a lot of times and the ash would hit my skin. Or he would put the cigarette out on me. Again quick reflexes.  I still have some of the scars. I actually have more that you know about. But can only be viewed in direct sunlight. Those are from him cutting me because he was pissed off. He was not very good with a knife thankfully, he never got deep. He hit me with hangers if I was too slow. He favored the broken fishing pole. When I could run that thing was capable of making contact every time. My legs got to experience it the most. I could scale furniture like a cat.

After he had me trained he then started cheating on me. He slept with 3 girls from our apartment complex, 2 of my friends, and our 50 something crack addict drug supplier. I caught him with her on a run for getting more drugs. Was walking in from the back and saw her and him through the bedroom window. That is when I finally lost it. I returned home and began hiding packing. All the furniture belonged to me so that was going to be harder to move. He walked in as I was almost finished. I regret now not making up a lie. He really let me have it. Threw me against the wall and kicked and punched me. Grabbed my hair and flung me to the bed, ripping out a nice chunk. He made his point very clear that I was in the wrong.

I was finally able to get away from him. I went into hiding at a friends house. I was terrified of sex and any guy that looked at me with interest scared the hell out of me. It was a year before I had any physical contact with another male. I kept with my programming. Mouth shut, walk behind, sit on the floor. When Jerry and I started getting more involved a lot of my training came through. Most he did not seem to mind. I still sit at his feet, have food ready and house clean when he gets home from work, and give up sex on almost every request. When he gets pissed off and starts yelling I just cower and cover. He has never laid a hand on me but the fear will be forever.

The Pain

I have the hardest time explaining to anyone, even the doctors, my pain. As in the previous post I have emotional pain. But what I have been experiencing for the past couple years is physical pain. Physical pain that has gotten so much worse over the years.

It all started two years into working with the the portrait studio. The company mandated that we wear flat black shoes. No laces. I was unaware at that time that we were never permitted to sit down. If we were not in a session with the customer, we cleaned. If we were not cleaning we were walking the floor to get customers. Even when we were doing cold calls we still stood up. Those flat shoes provided no comfort. By the end of the day the bottoms of my feet were rubbed raw. Then I began limping. I finally had to go to the doctors where they found a hole in my heal. The bone was being worn away. I was given cortozone shots and pain killers. A year later my other foot followed suit. Now both of my heals were damaged.. I was put in sleeping braces for my feet, and special orthopedics for my shoes. Along with a doctors note that stated I needed to wear tennis shoes. But the job was not done with me. Due to the fact that we always worked alone anytime we got new promotions, props or equipment it was our job solely to set it up. So while trying to shoot customers, acquisition customers, clean, and cold call. We were also climbing ladders, that we borrowed from the host store, or moving studio equipment around to make accommodations. Some host stores were jerks so we would resort in climbing the studio equipment. It ended  up putting a lot of wear and tear on my back. Now I have holes in my heals and a sore back. As the years progressed the job got more demanding on my body. I had hurt myself pretty bad at work, torn something in my left calf, which took me out of commission for a few months. Installation of curtains and the removal of the table did numbers on the knees. Getting down on the floor to set a pose or show a pose, was apparently too much bending. The weight of the curtains/blankets to bring home for weekly washing, always on my feet, the weekly promotional changes that needed ladders, the constant getting on the floor, jumping and fast feet, eventually after 9 years of service it killed me. I would just about need a walker every night after I got off work. That's why I never sat down right when I got home. I would immediately cook dinner. In the mornings it took me a few minutes to walk 30 feet. I have fallen a few times trying to get up suddenly.

Eleven years later I feel like my body is dying. I have contributed to the pain by playing on the floor with my son, working out at the gym and walking a lot. Well the gym and the walking got cancelled due to my husband telling me I need to quit because of financial issues. So my weight is also factored into the development. I have seen a podiatrist ( he just kept giving me pain meds and cortozone shots).  I have gone to pain management (quit because I was in more pain after every session). I have seen a bone doctor (only needed once). I have also seen a nerve doctor (quit because of finances). Apparently  I have a mild scoliosis in my lower back. Arthritis in my knees and  a bone disfigurement in my feet.  YAY me. But yet I do not qualify for disability.

My current status in pain can only be described as my are legs are painfully spasming. I am terrified to drive. I was on a restless legs pills and a nerve medicine but I am now out. I am not planning on getting the prescriptions refilled as our insurance has kicked into us paying. Dave's medicine is more important. I have also quit seeing all my doctors for now. We do not have the finances and Rilee's doctors are also more important. My best option is just to keep hiding the pain from my husband. He really only notices when I have to get up. Except lately the pain has been a bit intense.

Developed a pain in my left arm. It feels like it was hit with a baseball bat. I have difficulty performing anything that requires more than 5 pounds of pressure. I am a full blown righty at this moment. I was rubbing my temple last night and came in contact with a sore spot on my forehead. A spot that felt like I had banged it on something. It quickly erupted into a migraine. I woke with it being incredibly worse.

When I get up in the morning my toes are refusing to touch the ground. They will point in the air. When I force the foot flat it feels like the bones in my feet have a pressure on them, and it hurts. By the end of the night my back is in refusal of mobility. I can not walk normal any distance without a limp or being angled funny. Stairs are a whole new adventure. I have found walking like a crab reduces the pain.  My calves wretch in pain if I step to many times over the child gates, laundry day is notorious for that. My hands ache. I can not make a tight fist. My hands tingle when I do.  My mom keeps saying that maybe the Fibromyalgia is kicking in. I am thinking that I am going to be in a wheelchair by next year.

I have been suffering from restless leg syndrome for years but in the past two years I have also developed restless arm syndrome. I can fix the legs by pacing for 10 minutes. The arms I can't figure out.  I look like a dog having a bad dream in bed. Flailing my legs and my arms around trying to subdue them both. I then stand up and swing my arms everywhere. I went 3 days of very little sleep because of the pain and the restlessness. Averaging 2-3 hours a day. Doubling my percocet one night finally made me sleep.

The migraines. Holy crap and they are ruthless. If I wake up with one then I know it is going to be around all day long. I have gotten some where all light and sound affect me. Even had some where the pain was so intense that I started vomiting. sometimes the pain in my legs makes me vomit too.  Have yet to find something  to relinquish the pain. I never got migraines while I was smoking pot. Was never sick period.

The only medication I take now is percocet and vitamin 600+ D. I do it because of finances. I want my husband and my kid fixed first.  As long the world don't know I hurt the less they can make me feel bad for being so messed up. Why am I being punished.

Broken

I have found myself crying a lot lately. Over the stupidest shit. Just today I cried because the doctor died. Doctor who that is. He was my favorite. But I have also been crying every night.

I never used to be so emotional. Yeah I would cry over romances where the husband dies. I would think of my own husband dying and I would lose it. Now if I child dies I get all whimpery. But for the past 6 months I have found myself crying nightly. I try to hide it from my son. When he sees me cry he always gets me a tissue. So I hold it in and wait till he is in bed to lose my mind.

Some would call it depression. Which it just may be. I keep wanting to drink at night. But  we have alcoholics in our  families. Very bad ones. Ones that drink all day. Ones who think they need it to sleep. Ones who think it is the only thing  to do after work. My child is more important than a buzz. That's why I would leave for 24 hours, once a year,  and just go drinking and stay in a hotel.  No kid, no husband, no housework, no responsibility. This year I did not do that. Maybe that is why I keep having outbursts.

I blew up the other day because I had to relinquish my money for my husbands birthday for the second time. Previously I had saved $165.00 and took it and put it in the bank, because we were hurting so bad for money. Since he paid the bills on Friday he has made it very clear that we have no money. Any time I have mentioned that I need to go somewhere, he has taken the opportunity to lay into me for it. I We do not have the funds for food and gas. I told him his son was out of food and I needed to get something. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. He got irate about not having the funds to survive the week. I had saved the money again for his birthday. It was only a $100.00. He made me so pissed off  that I threw it at him and said happy birthday. I do not have enough time to save the money again.   So I took the $15.00 gift card and put it in his favorite game. At least I could get him something. He says he don't care about his birthday but I do. I always get him stuff that he needs or he wants. This year he out did me on gifts but only because my money went towards gas, food, and smokes. Anyways I threw the money at him, then returned to cooking dinner. Of course he yelled at me. So I threw the spoon I was stirring with and stormed out into the back door. He grabbed my arm on the way out aggressively, but I tore it free. I sat in the farthest corner of the yard, in the direct sunlight, and cried to the point of hyperventilation.   Instead of coming out to talk to me he screamed at me from the back door. He said " IF YOU ARE NOT BACK IN THIS HOUSE IN 5 MIN, I AM LEAVING." Typical just run away, who cares about me anyways. Well I knew I had food cooking on the stove. I also knew that I could not rely on him to stir it or stop it, so I came back in and finished cooking it then served it. He decided to come in pissed off and screaming about his birthday is just another day blah blah blah. All I heard was I had money I bought you stuff deal with it.

My husband and my son are the reasons that I cry nightly. I am so trapped, suffocated, stressed, worn out, and lost. I am sure I am much more but I'm too stupid to word it right. Please read the post prior to this one and the post prior to that one to understand why I am Broken.

I have considered leaving so many times but where would I go? My mom lives in an old folks trailer park. My brother and I are on ends. Family back home has no room for me. Discovered that when we went for the funeral and nobody had space for us. I can sleep on a couch no problem. I am no longer what I used to be. I used to be out going. I used to get invited to places. Now the only thing I get invited to is herping and dinner with my husband, oh also fishing. But I never  really get invited to that I just show up. (of course I am tending to my son the whole time so no real enjoyment for me). I can't go anywhere anyways. If I go my son goes. My son is possible ADHD and autistic. People don't want him around as he does not listen and gets into everything. He has no boundaries. He does not learn from punishments. With all the literature I have been reading lately I seriously think my husband is too. My life is in the house. I get really super excited when I get to go to the store all by myself. I post it on facebook, smile while smoking in my car, and listen to music that cusses, A LOT!

Nobody would notice if I shut down from the world. I am doing a test right now in facebook. Trust me I am having a hard time with it. I am definitely lurking but that is it.  Anyways on Sunday Augusts 24th at 7:00p.m. I decided to remove myself from the scene. I have stopped liking and commenting on everything. I removed myself from Sonoran Desert Wildlife (members 300+). I removed myself from Randomness ( members 20+) and from Hotchicks (members 2). Anybody notice? Nope. If they have nobody has a bothered confronting me on it. My husband has not even noticed. Nice huh? He has also not noticed that I have stopped asking him to set up the kids table for dinner, and I have not been eating as much. My portions have gotten way smaller. More food for him. But yet I still don't lose weight.

The biggest reasons that I have found myself crying is, my son just does not listen, my husband is not attentive to my needs, I have no job, and I have no life. I would seriously have nobody on my facebook list but family.  Most of the non family are hubbies friends, their wives or the I think 5 friends from my past. Only 2 I do stuff with in person.

I feel as though it has turned into a same shit different day. Scream all day and cry all night while performing my duties as a mother, wife, and housekeeper. Watching my husband leave the house for hours on end while I do deal with the house for hours on end. 
 
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Martin Luther King Speech Revised by ME

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of housewives who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the housewife still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the housewife is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the housewife lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the housewife is still languished in the corners of American society and finds themselves in exile in their own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

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Wow all I did was change one word.