A Letter To Him

As I sit down to type this, I’m filled with a sense of urgency to express the depths of my struggle. Each day feels like a battle, and I find myself grappling with the weight of my depression, compounded by the way he treats me. I fear that in six years, if this continues, the rest of my light will have been snuffed out entirely.

Living with depression is like walking through a fog that never lifts. Some days, I feel as if I’m moving through mud, each step more difficult than the last. Being around him, while I long for connection of some kind, often feels like a double-edged sword. The moments we share are overshadowed by the mental and verbal abuse that cuts deep, leaving wounds that don’t heal. His hateful words echo in my mind, replaying like a grim soundtrack to my daily life.

We don’t speak of our children without clashing, we don’t have normal conversations like a good friends, we need to do that, as co-parents. We’re mere enemies, waiting to strike, barely able to stand the sight of one another. One desperate to flee and the other desperate to hold on to this illusion for the world to see how “perfect” we are, but anyone who dares look for just a second will see the cracks. The facade is no longer able to stand on its own.

I want him to know how insignificant his words make me feel. Each insult, each dismissive comment chips away at my already fragile sense of self. It has over the years, and it should no longer matter, but it’s been a constant abuse my entire life, and it’s all my soul has ever truly known. It’s as if he’s placed me in a box labeled “unworthy,” along with the rest of them (my family, my ex), and I struggle to escape the confines of that label. The girl he once knew has been slowly fading, replaced by someone who feels lost and broken. I often wonder if he even sees the pain in my eyes or if it’s become invisible to him.

The thought of what I will become in six years terrifies me. I fear that I will be reduced to nothingness, a mere shadow of who I used to be. My mental health feels increasingly shattered, and I worry that eventually, I will no longer be able to hold on. The darkness looms large, and I can feel it creeping closer every day. There’s a part of me that imagines a future where I’m long gone in mind, a silent witness to my own despair.

I want to share this with him not to elicit sympathy or to assign blame, but to open a window into my soul—a soul that feels like it’s dimming with each hateful exchange. I hope he can understand the gravity of my feelings and the impact his words have on my heart. I wish for a future where I can rise above this pain, but the reality is that I’m struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Please take these words to heart. I don’t want to be just an echo of the girl he once loved. If he ever even did. Not that it matters, my love for him died many years ago, he nailed that coffin closed in 2017. But I miss me, I miss the girl I used to be. I want to be whole again, but I fear that time is running out. If nothing changes, I worry that the last flicker of my light will be extinguished, leaving only darkness in its wake.

I wish I could sit you down, and have you have hear this. Truly hear this. I want you to understand the pain and suffering your actions have caused over the years. Not only the physical pain you inflicted upon me, but every verbal strike, may have just been worse.

With all my pain and hope…