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ghoulstars · 6 years

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im only posting this bc i desperately need to exorcise this thought somewhere bc it wont fucking leave me alone

those of you who know me personally or follow my instagram know about this but for those of you who dont: in a horrible turn of events, our plan to put down our geriatric yellow labrador retriever dixie was unfortunately and unexpectedly doubled today to having to put down our 3 year old engam bulldog, bean, as well

when we got him in mid december, 2015 he was barely out of puppyhood, we found him wandering around near the highway at our local gas station with a collar and no tag, trying to jump into two out-of-towner girls’ car. my stepdad intervened bc they couldnt take bean with them obviously, and brought him home instead.

we put up lost dog flyers everywhere all over our very small city, in an attempt to maybe see if someone would indeed come forward for their dog. we knew he wasnt just a stray because of his collar.

almost right off the bat, we were told by a woman who worked at the gas station that there was a man who lived in the trailer park just across the road, located behind the pancake diner. you can see it from the gas station parking lot. she told us that he had a lot of dogs that he typically kept chained up outside in poor conditions, and beat them regularly. to us? it seemed totally reasonable that that must’ve been where bean came from, given the fact he was a dog and we found him literally less than 50 feet away from where this fucking man lived.

no one came forward to claim bean. we kept those flyers up for months, we only put them up to begin with knowing he may have been thrown out by (or escaped from) this disgusting man just because there was the possibility that it wasn’t his dog, but someone else’s. as well as the potential for legal intervention if this fabled abuser found out we had technically stolen his dog (and full disclosure, fuck him for what he does, i hope all his dogs get stolen like they need to be, i myself was not fond of the idea of just giving the dog back to this creep if he was indeed the owner but i was only 16 at the time so there wasnt much i could do)

with no one claiming bean, after those months passed, we decided that he was ours now. flyers were taken down, we gave him his collar and nametag, to be real he’d already been named by us in the first few days we had him. he was going to be ours no matter what; my mother always told me its a rule that if you name a stray, and do it quick before anyone can object to keeping it, it’s yours now. that’s your pet, with it’s new name.

so we carried on with our lives, now having not just one dog, but two. it was a bit iffy with my stepfather keeping bean since we didnt technically need to manage two dogs at the time, but we still did it anyways because we loved him, the little bean man.

but here’s where my problem lies and this is why im writing this now: as time went on and we continued to have bean as our pet, some stuff about the original suggestion that he belonged to an abusive older man who lived in close proximity to where we found bean wasnt adding up

due to dixie’s failing body, she would sometimes lose control of her bowels inside the house, which was becoming unacceptable when she stayed in overnight. so, she stayed outside. she and bean bonded, so they stayed outside together too. (and for clarity here, i know what some of you might want to say, but we knew very early on that bulldogs do not do well with heat or isolation. we also know that dixie probably shouldve been put down years ago, but here’s the trouble: my stepfather would not let us euthanize her. she is his dog technically, and the thought hurt him so much that he would not agree to it for YEARS. dixie and bean were too attached to separate them for long periods of time like they would be if we kept bean inside mostly and her outside mostly; that would’ve been cruel in its own special way. we put pools out for bean and visited with both dogs for as much as we could outside, bathed them, put fans out for them in the summer. our only option to give bean the main love and care he needed was, and of course we had other reasons to do this, to put dixie down, which was where we thought we were finally going to be by tomorrow, but thats not what happened, as you can tell)

as to be expected, bean sometimes found his way inside, mostly by applying his american bulldog traits to memorizing when unfamiliar guests would come over and bolt in the house. he did this enough times and very recently we were letting him stay inside instead of taking him back out, and all of these experiences combined, we noticed something: bean was housebroken. he was out of practice with it, and did not know very well how to communicate that he needed to go outside to use the bathroom, but he did know what to do. he would run to the door if he had to go, not always making it, but still, he was housebroken. he only marked furniture once while inside, in his entire lifespan thus far. that was a red flag to us, but especially my mother, who realized this skill of beans directly contradicted the statement that he was probably kept outside, chained up, starved, and beaten by the trailer park guy. not to mention, bean came to us in nearly perfect condition to begin with, just skinny. no patches of fur gone, he was the opposite of skittish and aggressive, no bruises, nothing. just a loving, bouncy, stupid bulldog mix

this, im not sure if im correct about this, but it stands out enough to me that i feel its worth mentioning: bean is not a mutt of any kind, and his breed contradicts those types of breeds most people who abuse animals come to own; usually large breeds, breeds inaccurately known for aggression, and breeds used by abusers to make aggressive bc they know the fighting power of these dogs (pitbulls, american bulldogs, etc). bean is an engam bulldog (english/american mix), which is a very obscure mixed breed dog to begin with and especially obscure where i live, and as we all know english bulldogs are short, stout, fat little things that can basically do no harm whatsoever. they also have a history of inbreeding to look how they do. i know this man may have just seen ‘bulldog’ and snagged him thinking he’d be aggressive, but that does not sit right with me for two other reasons: bean’s conformation (body structure) and coloration. there is nothing about bean that suggests he was bred to be used for fighting, or that he’s a true mutt, or anything of the sort. his body type literally resembles that of show dogs, and his fur coloration is highly unusual because he’s blue. obviously not literally blue but the type of blue-grey you can find in animals, typically seen in cats. bean’s coloration is almost NEVER found in ANY breed of bulldog, it is INCREDIBLY rare that he looks like this. his condition in which we found him, his housebrokenness, his color and his body formation lead, in me and my family’s opinion, to an alternative opinion: he belonged to someone that got him because they wanted a dog as a pet, not to beat, and they either bred him themselves or bought him (probably from a pet store or breeder) for his color and conformation.

but why would they dump a dog this valuable? my mom said this to me earlier, sobbing after she returned from the vet today, and this is my whole reason for writing this insane fucking novel of a post: whoever dumped bean threw out a sick puppy, and on purpose.

bean hasnt been injured or contracted an unvaccinated illness or anything like that. he had been experiencing extreme stomach distension for the past month, whereas he was losing weight everywhere else on his body. he had also been vomiting. but he wasnt depressed, or lethargic. maybe his personality was a little off but not so much it was horribly noticeable, and at that, he was still eating regularly everyday. we came to the conclusion he had parasites, though ive always been terrified something more serious was going on (i dont get listened to though).

as it turns out, i was right. mom took him in today, the day before dixie was set to be put down, for his deworming pills. what she got instead was a diagnosis of possible lung cancer. his blood work was normal, which is unusual in animals with cancer, but he still had nodules on his lungs that highly resembled cancer. his heart was also severely enlarged due to heartworms, and his stomach was so distended because it was full of fluid and blood. they did send his blood off for labs, but even if his lungs were fine, he was going to die anyway (they got a second opinion from another practice and they also agree it was probably cancerous). he has a 15% survival rate for only the very first heartworm treatment, which will cost $500. nothing lives very long with an enlarged heart to begin with. we don’t have that money, and for a treatment that will definitely kill him? i dont even know why he has so much blood and fluid in his digestive tract. bean, a dog who is only 3 or 4 years old, has an enlarged heart, lung tumors and fluid/blood all in his abdomen. the vet was apparently stunned that a dog this young could have this many potentially (and one definitely) fatal health problem(s).

i now fully believe that whoever owned him before knew he had all these issues, or that he was going to develop them. i think it makes sense. i also think they’re cheap, cruel fucks who didnt want to shell out that much money to take care of him, or pay to take him to a shelter/sanctuary, and so what did they do? they did what many people these days very regularly do when their new pet has become undesirable: they fucking dumped him on the side of the road and booked it. took his nametag off and everything, to make him look like a stray. they left him for some well meaning, animal loving family like mine to find him, not know anything about these preexisting health issues, and assume he’s healthy enough; maybe just needs a few more vaccinations and a worm and flea treatment. he showed no signs of lung cancer or heart problems in all his life up until this past month, and he’s still so young. i will even go as far as to say that he himself may be severely inbred, which could be the cause of these health issues. given his specific posture and color, and that he’s a bulldog, it’d make sense. it seems like he came from some kind of breeder to begin with anyway.

so now that ive said that and got it all out of the way, i want to leave an open letter to the hypothetical cunt that did this to us and bean:

i hope god fucking strikes you down where you stand. i hope every single day of your miserable fucking life, you think about where he ended up, if he’s still alive, if anyone found him, if he ever got hit by a car or died alone of cancer and heart failure in a field somewhere. i hope you feel guilt for leaving him knowing he’d develop cancer and that he had heart worms, and knowing you did it BECAUSE of that. i hope you never fucking forget about the fact that you threw an INNOCENT LITTLE PUPPY out on the highway because you just didnt want to have anything to do with his illnesses, and i hope one day you find out what you did to us and this innocent little boy. he’s such a good fucking dog, he is so patient, kind, loving and gentle, and when he has bursts of energy to play he fucking goes, and now he has to die barely halfway through his lifespan because of your fucking negligence. he is laying outside on the porch right now, uncomfortable with fluids and blood backing up his intestines, coughing and huffing just to try and breathe. at the very least, if he were taken to the right shelter, he couldve been fucking cared for and given treatments to extend his life as much as possible, or at least given hospice care for however long he could live, which has now been shortened to 3 or 4 years. if you yourself knew this dog was inbred or you inbred him yourself, fuck you. i hope you get run over by a fucking truck. this breed can live from 12-16 years, that’s a LONG time for a dog like him, and you had to fucking ruin it all because of your own fucking preferences; you wanted the perfect dog. and you could’ve had him if you’d grown a fucking heart and actually gave a shit about animals beyond how they look aesthetically; as well, if you fucking actually gave a shit about your animals HEALTH and wanted to maintain it instead of apparently assuming he’d just be fine and healthy with all his vaccinations and that’d be the end of it. you do not deserve to own an animal if you dont even want to acknowledge it will sometimes need medical care, how fucking heartless are you? we never had enough money to take care of dixie’s failing health, and we always knew it’d be better to put her down, but my stepdad kept refusing. you had enough money to fucking breed or buy a blue show-quality engam bulldog and you still wouldnt fucking care for him after you found out what problems he had. fuck you. eat shit and die. i hope you never find peace from the guilt of knowing you fucking killed what became our dog because you’re selfish. my mother is physically sick with grief. i am physically sick with grief. i feel so bad that it’s as if i have the fucking flu. i was trying to talk with my mother about this situation earlier and i had to rush to leave because i felt like i was about to throw up if i didnt. everyone in this house has cried so much today it’s disgusting.

the only thing good about this is that bean came along for dixie when she needed him most, and became her helper and provider, giving her company and being a literal post to lean on for when she couldnt see where she was going. they’re going over the rainbow bridge tomorrow morning together, and in a way, this is probably the best outcome. at least bean wont have to grieve. dixie can see her old companion again (who died from a ruptured tumor in 2014) and bean can meet him, and they can all play and be together in that field in the sky.

my family will never have another dog again because of this pain this has caused us.

#personal #probably dont delete this #dont open this if youre sensitive to animal cruelty and death please #and vulgar descriptions of internal illness in dogs #and emetophobia #dont rb

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woods2006gal · 3 years

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Chapter 04 - I'm Gonna Be Alright

Zoey yawns as she makes her way down the stairs that morning. She had worked late at the Talon the night before and was thankful that Nell and Lana had given her a ride home. She stops seeing the table covered in food. “Good morning,” a voice greets and she turns to see a boy a couple of years younger than herself. He had bright hazel eyes and dark brown hair.

“Zoey, this is Ryan,” Martha introduces. “He’s staying with us until a family member can be found.”

Zoey nods and sits down at the table. “Hi.”

“Hey, what’s the occasion,” Jonathan greets, entering the kitchen and sitting down at the table.

“I wanted to make myself useful,” Ryan replies. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Hey, you can stay as long as you want. Maybe some of you will rub off on Clark and Zoey.”

Zoey rolls her eyes. She knew that would never happen. Between the Talon, being newly selected as the FBLA president, and student body treasurer, she barely had time to breathe, let alone make a table full of food. ‘This is what private chefs are for,’ Zoey thinks.

“What does everybody want? Let me guess,” Ryan says, staring at Martha. “Pancakes with powdered sugar, not syrup.”

Martha brightly smiles. “How did you know that?”

“I saw you eyeing them when you came in.” Ryan turns to Jonathan. “Scrambled eggs, bacon, coffee with milk and a little bit of honey.”

“Well, that is some trick there, kiddo,” Jonathan replies, taking the plate.

Ryan turns his attention to Zoey. “Blueberry pancakes with a sprinkling of powdered sugar and light on the syrup.”

Zoey raises an eyebrow. “Um, thanks,” she says, taking the plate. The last time she had this exact breakfast was when she was a kid and her mom had made them. There was something off that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Hey, Mom,” Clark greets, entering the kitchen. He eyes the table full of food. “Going all out for the new kid, huh?”

“Actually, Clark, Ryan took care of all this himself.”

Clark nudges Zoey. “You’re making us look bad.”

“What do you want for breakfast,” Ryan asks, staring at Clark. He frown. “Don’t you want anything, Clark?”

“I’m just gonna have some pancakes,” Clark replies, stabbing his fork into some pancakes in the center of the table. Clark shoots him a smile as Ryan just stares at him.

Martha frowns. “Ryan, you okay?”

Ryan nods, but keeps his gaze on Clark. “Ryan, are you sure you don’t remember anything about last night,” Jonathan questions. “You see, because I-I still can’t figure out why you were out on Route 90 at ten o’clock at night.”

Ryan tenses. “I said I don’t remember.”

Zoey grabs a piece of bacon off a plate. ‘Kid is totally hiding something. Even I can see it.’

“I’m not hiding anything,” Ryan defends, then stands up and walks away from the table. Zoey raises an eyebrow.

“No one said you were, buddy,” Clark calls after him.

Zoey stands up and grabs another piece of bacon. “I have to meet Lana. I’ll see everyone later.”

“Zoey, you’ve barely touched your breakfast,” Martha points out.

“Not really hungry,” Zoey says, then quickly makes her way out of the house. She didn’t know what was going on with Ryan, but she didn’t trust him. No one knew the exact breakfast her mom would make her. Not even the Kents.

~*~

Zoey smiles as she hands the customer their to go order. The Talon was packed like it always was on a Saturday afternoon. She sees Ryan sitting on one of the stools at the counter. Clark was showing Ryan around town, through he was currently talking with Lana. She sees Lex walk into the Talon and goes to start his usual order. “Warrior Angel,” Lex reads, moving to stand next to Ryan. Ryan glances at him, then turns back to his comic book. “I’m a fan myself. You must be Ryan. I’m—”

“Lex Luthor,” Ryan interrupts. “Clark told me all about you.”

“You know, I have one of—”

“Original first edition panels framed in your house.”

Lex chuckles, amused. “How did you know that?”

“You’re rich. That’s what rich people do, collect stuff.”

Zoey grabs Lex’s to go order and places it on the counter in front of him. “Here you go, Lex,” she tells him. “Your usual.”

Lex shoots her a smile, then glances once more at Ryan with a perplexed look. “I see you’ve met Ryan,” Clark says, joining them.

“Apparently, we’re both big Warrior Angel fans,” Lex replies.

“I didn’t know you liked comic books,” Clark tells his friend.

“A strange visitor from another planet who protects the weak? When I was young he was my idol, not to mention the face he’s bald. I have the whole collection.” Zoey shakes her head and walks away, leaving them to their conversation. The last thing she wanted was to spend more time around Ryan.

~*~

Zoey looks up when there’s a knock on her bedroom door. She spies Clark standing the doorway and motions for him to enter. “Have you been avoiding Ryan because he can read minds,” Clark asks.

“I sensed that something was weird, but I didn’t know that he read minds,” Zoey answers. “But now that I know, yeah, I’ll probably avoid him even more when he visits.”

Ryan, after being taken by his stepdad and the stepdad’s girlfriend, was able to finally go home with his aunt. While Zoey had been a little sad to see Ryan leave the farm, she was relieved at the same time. Clark frowns. “What’d you sense that was weird?”

Zoey glances down the hallway, before looking at Clark. “He knew the exact breakfast that my mom would always make me. The only other people that know of the exact breakfast my mom made me are Uncle Max and Austin.” She lets out a breath. “Look, Clark, I think Ryan is a sweet kid with an amazing ability. If he wants to, he can use to save a lot of people someday. I just don’t like people being inside of my head.”

Clark nods and walks away. He couldn’t help replaying what Ryan had told him earlier that afternoon. About how Lex had a darkness within him and how Zoey had a darkness inside of her. He knew both of them pretty well or at least thought he did. He didn’t think they would do anything to hurt him. Especially Zoey.

~*~

Zoey smiles as she hands out cupcakes. It was her second year running for a position in the student council. She had successfully ran a campaign for treasurer the previous year and had managed to raise more money than any other school treasurer. She was determined to win her race as class vice president. “Zoey!” She looks up and finds Chloe and Pete. “Who do you think will win class president?”

“I look forward to working with whoever wins,” Zoey answers, with a smile. She hands them each a cupcake. “Have a cupcake. Aunt Martha and I made them.”

Pete eagerly grabs his. “Give us a real answer.”

“Between the three of us, we know that Paul is the most qualified. However, you have to count popularity into these elections. And Felice is the most popular,” Zoey tells them.

“What about Sasha,” Chloe questions.

“I’ve worked with Sasha before on some of the fundraisers. She needs more work on being a leader.”

“Hey, why aren’t you running for president,” Pete asks.

Zoey shakes her head. “I am sticking with my plan. Treasurer to vice president then to president. I’d rather have the work that shows I’ve earned being president.”

~*~

Zoey stares in disbelief at the banner hanging in the hallway. “Fucking hell,” she mutters. There was no way that Clark would run for class president. She had made school politics her thing. She had spent too much time and effort in student government. Then she pauses. The news of Paul being attacked by a swarm of bees had been making it way through the hallways. There was also the news of Felice throwing a pre-election party. Sasha was being her normal uptight self. She had been the one to first tell Zoey that Clark was running, something Zoey didn’t believe until she saw the banner.

Given that Zoey was the only person actually running for class vice president, she knew that she was a shoo in for the position. She turns and walks down the hallway, searching for Clark. She spots him standing in the hallway. “Clark,” Zoey greets, walking up to him.

“Pete nominated—”

“I think you should run,” Zoey interrupts, smiling at him. She grabs his arm and leads him down the hallway towards their history class. “Look, we both know that there’s certain things that Uncle Jonathan thinks that you shouldn’t do. Like football. But this is actually something that you can do and you won’t get that look from him. Not only that, people like you. You’re more relatable than Felice and Sasha. So, I think you should run. Plus, student government looks really good on college applications.”

Clark stares at her. “You really think I should run?”

“Clark, if I didn’t think you should I would’ve told you that. I mean it. You should run.”

~*~

Zoey looks up from where she was sitting in the mostly empty Talon when she hears Lex enter. She hadn’t missed with Clark and Pete entered, taking a break from Clark’s campaign. Business had been slow the past couple of weeks. Zoey had been working with Lana to come up with ideas of drum up more business, but nothing they had come up with so far had worked. “Glad to see business is booming,” Lex greets.

“It’s hard when even your regular customers blow you off,” Lana replies.

“I haven’t been blowing you off, Lana. I’ve had my eye on the situation.”

“Waiting for me to fail.”

“Most new ventures fail. You have to prepare yourself for that possibility.”

“I thought you didn’t like to lose,” Clark reminds.

“I don’t, but it’s not my fight. As an investor, you have to know when to cut your losses.”

Lana looks between Clark and Lex. “So, what do you suggest we do?”

“The Beanery has declared war. If you wanna hold on to his place, you need to get creative. Be willing to get your hands dirty. Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting anything illegal. To quote The Godfather ‘it’s time to go to the mattresses.’”

Zoey rolls her eyes and walks over to them. “That movie needs to no longer constantly run on AMC,” she tells them, grabbing a glass of water. “Don’t worry, Lana, this place won’t fail. I’m a Carmichael.”

“You sound very sure of that,” Lana says, walking with Zoey back over to her table leaving Clark and Lex to talk.

Zoey glances around the Talon, then pulls Lana into a corner. “My grandfather, back in the fifties, had to deal with some competition for the new restaurant he had invested in. This other place had managed to convenience long time customers to not visit the hotel’s new restaurant. So, my grandfather had a chat with the local health inspector.”

~*~

Zoey looks up from where she was throwing trash into the garbage can outside of the house. News about the bee attack on Felice and the later bee attack in the Talon had quickly spread throughout the town. Given that she was highly allergic to bees, Zoey had taken to carrying her epipen on her, except when she was at home. Hearing the light buzzing sound and looking to see giant swarm of bees, causes her to take off running. She feels a gust of air along with a tiny sting. Within in the blink of an eye, Zoey finds herself on the ground of the storm cellar with Clark standing in front of her. “Zoey,” Clark worriedly exclaims. “Are you okay?”

Zoey shakes her head. She could feel her airway tightening up. She gasps for air. “Zoey! Clark,” Martha yells, throwing open the storm cellar doors and running down the stairs. “Zoey! Clark, she needs her epipen!”

Clark vanishes with a gust of air. He knew exactly where the emergency epipen was kept in the house. Martha grabs Zoey’s hands and kneels down in front of her. Clark quickly reappears with the epipen in hand. He yanks off the cap and stabs Zoey in the thigh. They wait as the medicine runs through Zoey. She gasps for air.

“Is she gonna be okay,” Clark asks.

“It takes a minute for it to kick in,” Martha reminds, pulling her goddaughter against her chest. “I’ve never seen bees attack like that. They flew off as soon as you guys came down here. Where do you think they went?”

“Back to their queen,” Clark theorizes, then takes off.

Zoey takes a deep breath. Martha gently pulls her up. “Let’s get you to the hospital, sweetheart.”

~*~

Zoey shifts in the uncomfortable hospital bed. She had been admitted for observation to ensure that there were no other side effects of being stung by the bees. There’s a knock on the door and she looks to see Max. “Uncle Max,” she brightly says, as he walks into the hospital room. “What are you doing here?”

“You know that I’d never miss an election night,” Max tells her. “Sucks you stung by a few bees. How are you doing? And where are Jonathan and Martha?”

Zoey waves a hand. “I’m fine. And they’re at home. I told them I was fine and didn’t need them to stay for my observation night.”

Max pulls up the chair and sets down. He clears his throat. “There’s actually another reason I’m here. The guy who killed your parents…He’s being released from prison.”

“Oh.”

A silence settles over them, each lost in their own thoughts. Zoey quickly wipes away a tear. Max climbs onto her bed and pulls her against his chest.

I used to say I couldn’t do it But I did it After telling everyone that I wasn’t with it I can feel it And I know inside I’m gonna be alright I said I couldn’t do it But I did it After telling everybody that I wasn’t with it Though it brings tears to my eyes I can feel it And that voice insides says I’m gonna be alright

#smallville #series rewrite #original female character #original character

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lalamartinez17 · 7 years

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Looking for a new beginning elsewhere?

This is just a little problem i am dealing with, please let me know if you have any advice or have been through this.

As i lay here, at 12:09am trying to find different ways to get money so i can move from this dreadful apartment where my husband (Mauro) and my almost 7 month old son live. Looking back when i first found this apartment, i thought it would be great, we would live here for ONLY ONE year, which turns out to be next month. When we first moved, this was a beautiful apartment, no noises around us, nothing wrong with our neighbors. We had no issues with insects or rodents. Come to find out, they were waiting for us to settle down. It seemed as if they waited their respected three months before coming out to aggravate us. But that wasn’t our biggest concern, things did go a lot worse.

I was about 5 months pregnant when we moved in and everything was going according to plan but unfortunately, about three months after our son was born, things got complicated. Mauro lost his job due to his cousin who framed him and got him fired with a snippet of a video where Mauro and his brother were talking about dealing with clients. They were simply talking about how their boss wouldn’t know how to deal with the clients face to face if there was something they didn’t like. His cousin and a very close friend, were the ones who apparently felt the need to get some type of payback because they had gotten fired only a week before due to their incompetence at the job. So they decided to make a deal with the boss in where they show him a video framing Mauro and his brother, and they would get their jobs as managers. Mauro never felt more backstabbed by flesh and blood, but come to find out, that didn’t matter to his cousin even though he got that job in the first place because of my husband. His cousin was living in his car so my husband decided to help FAMILY out. After that incident Mauro found it hard to go from getting 675$ a week, to making 400 a week. Specially with our son needing formula, paying rent, and of course us eating. He staying at that job because it was money that we needed, barely making ends meet, he stayed there until something better came our way.

Around August, Mauro’s stepdad talked to his mom about a job opening in a heliport and of course this was a no brainer. He went for an interview, and got the job, of course he would, if it was something he found interesting, there was no stopping him. Of course this meant for him to be away for three and a half days away from me. Working 15 hour shifts for three days and 8 hours for one day is obviously not how i wanted to be in my marriage. Never did i want my son to see his father on weekends and on the days he wasn’t working. This has put a strain on our relationship because of the nights where i would want to ask about his day, the moment he got in bed, he knocked out. How can i blame him? 15 hour shifts are so demanding and how can i possibly get mad at that. Which i did but because i was with my son which of course i love very much and also is still in the separation anxiety stage. So he needs to see me in sight or else he’ll start complaining and doesn’t let me relax. Additional to my sleep deprivation that i suffer, this isn’t easy at all specially when i get no help from Mauro because he is extremely tired. So was it right that i had to kill myself so Mauro can get home and sleep? Yes it is.

Mauro started getting paid bi-weekly which was a new thing for him so making the money last for two weeks was a problem. He was making more than in his job with his brother, but since we had fallen back on payments, it feels like a never ending cycle. So this is where i am now, beyond stress and extremely irritable with a determination of moving the hell out of here, but how can i possibly save money to move with this never ending debt pilling up ? So far our goal is 6k and have set aside 400$. Lets see how this will turn out in our five month timeline.

#struggle #first year of marriage #when will it end?

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