Day 3 — 9 November

Today began with a much‑needed lie‑in, as the little one woke up a bit later. The teens got themselves ready and left in the morning. I eventually got us dressed, went out, and cleaned the car — even mopping the car floor. I have a colleague accompanying me tomorrow for flu jabs. She hasn’t had young children for many years, so she won’t appreciate car seats and smeared finger marks. My ADHD often makes me worry about what others think, possibly due to Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD).

With the car clean, we headed off to post some more Vinted parcels. The lockers were full again! @inpost, you need more lockers! Then we went to playgroup. Mr S wasn’t quite ready for his client but thought we were waiting for him. He offered to clean the car as I walked back with the dirty water — a bit of an empty comment, knowing I had already been out doing it.

Playgroup was great. I enjoy being around more for him; we played, and I watched him engage with other children. I had the chance to speak to other parents, mostly grandparents. Life seems the same for most working parents, juggling childcare and work. The little one made a friend, only three months older but twice his size. We danced when the music started. Mr S messaged to say he was walking up but taking ages, likely expecting me to collect him, which would have meant taking the toddler away. I didn’t go. Last year, I would have rushed out to get him.

We had our snacks, and Mr S arrived, as did my sister with her one‑year‑old, who played with my toddler.

After playgroup, we needed to collect something from our local town, 12 miles away. I invited my sister along. Mr S was glassy‑eyed and very “chatty”, which isn’t like him. Combined with the stench and putting two and two together, I knew drugs were involved.

I’m sick of hearing “you ok, you ok” followed by faces being pulled at me. I’m not ok; I’m miserable whenever he’s around. It makes me feel so down and numb, knowing this is life. We eventually got to town and headed into the photo shop. They were doing a package deal for photos, so the little ones had some taken together.

Mr S filled the shops with awkward comments, pretending he couldn’t hear every answer to every question he asked. He ended up outside vaping while I went through the photos. The toddler needed a wee, and a lady said there was one just across the road. I couldn’t take him, so Mr S let him wee directly outside the shop on a main street. Obviously, it was my fault he had wee on his shoes (I was inside). More shitty comments followed.

We needed to stop at the shop because my baby niece had just had a massive nappy explosion. But first, I had to pick up the toy I’d promised — I wanted him to smile for the photos! 📸 Mr S, on the other hand, needed to get some vape oil. As we stepped into the vape shop, he stood there in silence, staring at all the paraphernalia — bongs, pipes, and the like. I must have asked him a million times about the flavour and strength he wanted before he finally decided.

He hasn’t got any cash on him because of his past struggles with alcohol, which led him to frequent benders. With only a few clients here and there, he hardly makes enough to cover what he owes. As we left the shop, his head hung low, hands shoved deep into his pockets, commenting on how he needs new hoodies.

Let’s put this into perspective: he has more clothes than all of us combined. Meanwhile, I’ve lost a stone in three months and haven’t bought myself anything new in years. I used to get him whatever he wanted, but now I’m desperate to save enough to escape this life. Next, he claimed he needed money for books, despite having a mountain of unread ones at home.

I could see his irritability rising as the effects of the drugs wore off. We then headed to Smyths because he’d lost his finger skateboard. Yes, he’s almost 40. While I changed the baby and chased after the toddler, he took his time looking through every skateboard in sight, stretching out the visit.

Finally, I loaded everything into the car alone and headed to drop my sister off, in silence. The tension was palpable; you could feel it hanging in the air. The conversation shifted to his new friend, a client who enjoys weed. Mr S recently told him he’s out of weed, even though that’s not true. Perhaps they can play D&D together. I couldn’t engage anymore; my responses had dwindled to one‑word answers. Just more money to shoot out of my arse.

Once home, I unloaded the car and tackled the cooking and cleaning yet again. I don’t go swimming with them anymore, but I still have to drop them off at the swimming pool. He was almost home when the phone rang, he only had to pack the swimming bag, and he’d forgotten the trunks. I headed back to them, and he stormed out of the changing room. So I got to watch my son swim. After changing the toddler and heading out, I’ve stopped running after him now, which clearly didn’t go down well. He had the van keys, thankfully he didn’t lock it. So we sat and froze waiting; his phone was off, as usual, when he vanishes. Not long after, he must have realised the paddy wasn’t working, and I spotted Mr S walking across the car park from the van. Should he just walk home? That decision is entirely up to him.

As the evening settled in, he headed to the studio to draw, fine by me. Yet I found myself wondering why I said I was glad he has a friend now. I’m constantly met with his claims of being alone. Years of his behaviour have led to people distancing themselves from him.

He opted to stay upstairs since the teenager was actually out of his room. I told him repeatedly, “It’s got nothing to do with me where you draw.” I could see him getting worked up, but thankfully he eventually left the room. Then he wanted to come back in and stroke my hair, saying he wouldn’t smell bad. The irony is that he’d just spewed a load of insults. After nearly five years of this, I’ve long since moved past wanting that kind of comfort. It doesn’t make up for the emotional, mental, and financial abuse I’ve endured.

Just as I was finishing my blog for the night, he walked into the room with a book, clearly stoned, and began talking. I asked how his drawing had been going, but panic washed over his face. It seems he hadn’t actually done any drawing at all. I spend so much of my day wishing for a change. After his affair last summer, I was a complete mess, convinced I couldn’t handle life alone and that I needed him. Reality has hit hard since then. I wish he would find someone and leave instead of clinging on out of fear of losing the house. Whenever I bring up selling, he threatens suicide.

He insists he just wants a happy family, but what he really means is that I must abide by his rules or face hell.

The problem is that I know I’m worth more than this, and the children deserve better.

Here’s hoping for a drama‑free night… fingers crossed for work tomorrow. x