What I have believed to be true for a few years now, is. My husband hates me. He hates me because I am a better person than he is and he knows it for sure. After 26 years, I have remained basically the same. I have maintained my dignity, personal integrity, and since of loyalty.
I have kept all my promises and have done all I could to right the wrongs I committed during our relationship. He was unable to accept my love and kindness for many reasons, the foremost being because he didn't deserve it.
He hates the fact I don't give up. He hates I have literally achieved every goal I told him I would when we began dating in August of 1985. I've even combated the weight issue and I know that is something he never thought I would do because I was so messes up in the head when it came to food and the effects it had on my body. He just knew I'd be fat and miserable all my life.
He hates me because my kids love me and has tried to turn them against me since we've been apart. This is the biggest tragedy because they know who I am. They have been here all the time too.
I tried desperately to bring him with me on this journey of self-awareness. When I met him I was crazy as hell. I was frightened of the world, depressed and lonely. He loved introducing me to stuff and bringing me out of my shell. He just didn't know how quick of a learning I would be and that I was just waiting for my turn.
As much as he understands love, I believe he has it for me. Yet, he clearly does not like me. To be honest, I'm proud to know he doesn't like me because I ain't about the bullshit and because I am the woman I present myself to be. I ain't fake and he couldn't take the for real, for real.