#itsoverwhenitsover

George's oldest child had moved in with us over the last weekend in May of 2017, and two weeks later George had to go out of town for work in Miami...unsure of when they'd be coming back. Which honestly wasn't a huge deal considering things were easier when he wasn't around. I had a good routine with George's oldest son, and he responded to me better than he did his father...

...probably because I didn't scream at him.

But with George gone I was balancing work, a 7 month old, a 7 year old, football practice, normal house work, and surprise! Here's a litter of puppies!

9 dogs all together.

The fuck have I gotten myself into.

As if my hands weren't already full enough.

We were managing though! And doing pretty damn well if I do say so myself.

Father's day was approaching, and George decided he was going to come up from Miami to spend the day with the kids and me.

My internal organs had other plans though.

The night before father's day, I went to crawl into bed and found a fresh puddle of cat piss...after 2 hours of scrubbing and soaking and laundry, I left a box fan on the pillow top air mattress to dry and curled up on the couch. Something wasn't right though, and my stomach was doing back flips. I managed to ignore the queasiness long enough to fall asleep, but within an hour I was back awake and puking.

Around 4 a.m. after I had spent the better part of the last two hours puking, all of the pain started to move into one spot on my right side...and what I had initially assumed was food poisoning suddenly seemed like it might be something a little more serious. Usuaully food poisoning just leaves your entire stomach a mess...not with pain focused in one area of your abdomen...

I'm basically a doctor, okay?

My mom had an experience with appendicitis when I was little, and for whatever reason I just had a feeling that's what I was dealing with.

*4:00 A.M.* Text to mom: 

Hey mom, what was it like when you had appendicitis?

-Are you serious?

Yup...

Mom got over to the house around 4:30 a.m. to help with the tiny human since I was doubled over in pain and still puking regularly. I had managed to get comfortable on the couch long enough to doze in and out for a little while. George was on his way home from Miami, and because of some recent interactions with him, Mom had no intentions of sticking around long enough to see him. She left shortly before George got home.

The puking had stopped, but I was useless as far as my son was concerned, and all I was doing was moving from the couch to the bed in an attempt to find some relief from the pain. When George finally came through the door...not only did he have an attitude...

But he had 3 wild iguanas that he had caught while working down in Miami.

Iguanas.

Fucking iguanas.

So now we've got 9 dogs, 2 children, 3 iguanas, and me not capable of even standing at the moment.

George planned on going to pick up his oldest son from his parents house to spend some time with him, and I asked if he could take our son with him too so that I could attempt to feel better and rest since I had been up all night in pain.

George whined a bit, but eventually said okay.

I went into our room and managed to fall asleep for 2 hours before waking back up from the pain being worse.

Anddd there's George passed out on the couch with our son. Now he was running late to see his oldest son, and no longer wanted to take our son with him.

George left, and mom came back over once we decided I should probably go to the emergency room.

Hours went by with no sign from George. What should've been a fairly quick trip, turned into him being MIA for hours. Eventually my mom had to leave me at the ER while she took my son over to my grandma's house.

You can only entertain an 8 month old in the hospital for so long, and I was in too much pain to do much of anything.

George eventually showed up, and I could tell immediately that he was pissy.

And so was my mother.

You could've cut the tension between them with a  knife.

I finally got brought back into a room and sure enough, appendicitis.

The only was I was comfortable was laying on my right side with my back to George. My mom had made a face book post, and my phone was going off left and right from family members checking in on me.

That's when George lost his shit.

He got pissed and started accusing me of texting other guys while I was laying in the hospital bed. I don't remember everything, that morphine shot really did its job, but I do remember him storming out of the emergency room and my mom following him down the hall way.

I tried to call him, upset that my oh so loving husband had not only just screamed at me while I was being prepped for surgery, but also left me there. The nurse working on me for pre-op had the privilege of hearing every nasty thing that came out of his mouth during that phone call.

Fuck you and your family, you're all pieces of shit.

Why would you listen to your mother over me?

Fuck you, come Monday I'm filing for a divorce.

And my mom just stood there in a state of shock listening to me begging and pleading with him to come back and apologizing as though I was the one that had done something wrong.

After the morphine kicked in full force, I was up chatting away with the nurses trying to sell them all one of the puppies from the litter (I was successful with one nurse) and a wave of relief washed over me when I realized I knew the surgeon that would be operating on me.

When I woke up from surgery George was in the room, he walked over kissed my forehead and left shortly after.

Mom was relieved to see me giving her the finger, a sure sign that I was just fine, and the pain meds knocked me out shortly after that.

It was a long few days in the hospital, and finally after the 2nd day my mom brought my baby in to see me. There's a picture somewhere of him and I snuggled up in the hospital bed for a much needed cuddle and nap.

George went back down to Miami to work, and of course after apologizing everything between us went back to "normal."

If there was even a such thing as normal for him and I...

The last night that I spent in the hospital, I received a message request on Facebook from a guy I didn't know.

*Insert guys name here*: Hey Brenna, I just wanted to let you know that Jordan is cheating on you with Ashley and has been for a while now.

I don't remember what the rest of the message said, besides that this Ashley chick had chlamydia, but it went on to mention another guys name that I knew and next thing I know I'm on a Facebook messenger call getting all sorts of details about what my husband had been up to since April.

The source wasn't necessarily reliable, but he knew a lot of details and considering we were never really friends and hadn't spoken since George and I had first gotten together, I believed him.

I sent George a screen shot of the message I had received, with a  caption that said "I suggest you start talking" and boy did shit hit the fan.

He finally confessed to talking with Ashley even though he had initially denied it after I found the Facebook messages on his phone from her. But he claimed they were "just friends" and that he would talk to her when we would argue but that it was nothing more than that.

Of course I knew it was much more than that.

It was a normal fight. Everything was turned around on me as though I had forced him to message her, and I was the one to blame, and he wasn't doing anything wrong, etc etc...

And the fight got worse, his digs at me escalated.

George started talking about how I always listen to my mother over him, when I shouldn't because all she does is lie to me and hide things from me...

Like the fact that my father wasn't at the hospital the day I was born because he didn't believe I was really his.

And boy did that hit me like a train.

Here I am laid up in a hospital bed, with the whole ordeal being a shit show from the beginning, and now in some shitty desperate attempt to break me down even more he starts throwing out things I never knew about the father I just lost less than a year ago. It's been confirmed, finally, that my husband is cheating on me again. Yet somehow he's still managing to twist it to where I feel like I'm the one to blame for all of it.

Not to mention I had never been away from my son that long and I was already an emotional wreck over not being with him.

Now I'm bawling my eyes out, for every reason and no reason at all.

And honestly I remember wishing they hadn't caught my appendix in time and that I would've just died.

That's how low George made me feel. That's how much power I allowed him to have over me.