Vows

There is a gnawing feeling in my gut and unfortunately it is disgust. More unfortunately, it is disgust towards the person I took vows with. These vows, as it turns out, do not hold the same moral principle and truth to my spouse as they do to me. Apparently, the future remains misty, events yet to unfold, which leaves said vows up in the air.

"I don't know what I would do," he says, in response to my asking if there was another unexpected pregnancy, a conversation which he prompted.

Which to me, also says, "I may have to go. I may run. I may not be the stand up guy you thought you married, or just the generally decent human being you thought you knew. I may be too selfish and scared and you may all be too much and also not enough."

What you actually said only confirmed such racing and ridiculous thoughts. "I think I'd just die inside."

Writing it out now, I feel my whole body being set aflame. A betraying fire has been set upon me and I ought to be in bed.

How surprised you were when you walked back in to find me crying in the shower, after I had already explained the internal reaction to your wavering stance on our marriage.

Which of course, only enraged and upset me more.

But I just asked for the soap.

I'm supposed to go in that room and lie there next you and feel ok about it. The thought of lying next to someone so deeply asleep while I think about skating on the increasingly thin ice that I and my children are skating on seems disturbing.

Do I now need to reorganize my entire life in preparation for you to decide you've had enough? Should I give up whatever fantasies I held of staying home and schooling children and working on occasion and living in a house of my own and trusting what I've been told I already have?

I do not feel like this life belongs to me. It feels borrowed. I did not built it myself, and the Lord orchestrated it all. So I ask You, my God, is it all going to leave sooner than expected? Will You help me trust You with the shambles when it's been torn apart and demolished?

Is my husband really that kind of horrid person, who'd leave his wife and children when another innocent child came into view? How would I tell that baby that they don't have their father around because *they* were the last straw?

How do I go about my life feeling like the fate of our marriage is resting on my anxious and tired shoulders?

I'm so sorry God, but it wasn't supposed to be this way.

This no longer feels like love, it feels like convenience. This feels like a ticking time bomb.

And there was no sort of comfort. "Hey, I'd never do that do you. Don't worry. It's ok. Whatever happens, I choose you."

"I'm sorry you're sad". Equating to, 'my condolences.' As if the action was inevitable and he was mildly remorseful that I feel "hurt" by it. I say "hurt" because his view seems distant, like when a scream could maybe sound like laughter from afar, but the closer you get the more you know someone is really not ok.

How does one not know a knife in someones chest? Because when you put it there yourself, you are too close to see it.

I wish I had known there was no towel when I got out. I would've asked for that too. It's the least he could do.