Vacation Home

I’m on vacation right now. One week in my true home- the college I attended far too long ago. The stresses, anxiety, depression are crumbling away and starting to leave me an actual human being again. I can breathe. I believe in joy. I believe in life, in God again, in beauty. In everything that makes me me.

Part of the reason for this trip was to see if we would like to live here, well with all of these awesome developments, obviously I have determined that absolutely we should. Now, that made me so excited and hopeful and so many other positive things. I was feeling so excited for life and like there was hope.

Then I talked to my husband. He says he won’t leave colorado at least until he is done with his associates. Just a couple of weeks ago he decided to add another semester on to his associates because he won’t do summer classes. If he were going to be done next May, maybe I could handle this. But it’s NEXT December. I have to stay in Hell for another year and a half. He is never going to let me out. 

I love him so much but I’m trying so hard not to hate him for this. I’m afraid that once he finally finished he is going to pull something like this with his bachelors too. “Well I’m just in the habit here I don’t want to change anything.” Well fuck that! I’m dying there!

How can he see the difference it’s making in me and ignore that?! How can he see that there is a place where I am not depressed and suicidal, where suddenly I care about life and I want to go on, and am not constantly telling him I wish I were dead and he can still not care? He doesn’t think a year and a half is a long time, but I’ve already been there for year and a half. Three years of hell is too much.

My God isn’t there, I can’t feel him there at all. Beauty- the only thing that makes my life worth living-isn’t there. Drive,life,existence,hope isn’t there. And yet I am never going to fucking escape it. He is always going to find a fucking excuse to make me stay there. He only let us move out of my parents house because I had a total breakdown. I cried racking sobs he had never seen the likes of for hours and finally he said ok you can look. 

Why if he loves me doesn’t he care that it’s killing me? This is my fault. When we were dating, when colorado was actually kind of ok, I said sure we can live in your parents house for three years after we get married so you can finish your bachelors. His fucking associates is going to take him that long! I can’t take it!!!!! I can’t do this! The. We have to do his fucking bachelors afterwards too? I can’t! 

I live in Hell.

Please God get me out!

Partially for the sake of our marriage, I don’t want to hate my husband.