So now that I’ve thrown out damn near all of my dirty laundry, I’ll summarize the next few years.
Between my last baby and now, so many things happened. I stepped out a few more times — sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally. Years later I found out he did too. I guess when I was asking questions, I wasn’t as terrifying as he was, so he didn’t think I needed the real answers.
I never learned how to share my emotions. Every three months I would get tired of our life and I would blow up, listing everything that had been bothering me. By the end of each argument, I’d apologize… and then he would want sex to erase the bad things.
Things got so bad that we started landing physical blows and screaming at one another. I was ready to leave and I gave him the option monthly. We weren’t good together — I could see it, others could see it — but he couldn’t.
In 2018, there was a horrible accident that took the life of a family member. It forced us on our first trip together out of state. I don’t know if it was the air or just being in a new place, but we were okay for that week and a half. We ended up moving there shortly after we came back and spent the next six years in the south.
The first year down south was hit or miss. We fought about stupid things — the house not being clean, the kids, dinner. Let me tell you, there were 13 of us in a tiny-ass place: three adults who all worked, and a bunch of kids who did NOT care.
Then, someone I used to work with started bringing up old things, and it just stirred up more crap. Every time I was late getting home, there were questions and accusations. Location tracking apps were installed without my knowledge, and my phone was combed daily.
I was loving the attention I was getting from customers at work, and I started resenting my husband in a way I didn’t understand then. He didn’t understand what I needed — even though I told him time and time again: “Give me what you give them. That’s all I need.”
By 2020, he thought I just wanted everyone else’s attention, so he let me have it — thinking that would fix us.
That’s when I started OnlyFans and created a separate Facebook account for paid activities. I was growing in body confidence. Men of all ages wanted to know me — sexually or personally. For the first time, I felt accepted for all that I was, not just the quiet submissive housewife. I was allowed to be real, to want things I was told I wasn’t supposed to want.
I was tired of trying to fix something that was never going to be fixed.
I was tired of being small.
So in 2023, I stopped fighting for him… and started fighting for myself.
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