LifeStorage

Good morning God,

I've wanted to package The Cross and preparing to ship it home. I was also prepared to do it myself. So, why did I ask him to help me????????????????????????????????????????????

Last Monday, Memorial Day. We go to the locker. We got The Cross boxed.

Now, I'm re-organizing the locker. Kitchen stuff, lunch box containers - stuff that was at the rental property. Everything in this locker was left in the middle of the living room, boxed for preparing to move at the lease end.

The acquisition of the locker is the direct result of my coming home to an empty home - my husband moved with no notice. I slept and woke up with the MF - God, it still angers me.

So, why did I invite him?

I opened a box - mini crockpots.

"No, leave it here. There's no room for it. You're junking up the place. You already have a crockpot. That's enough.

You are taking up two rooms.  You're sleeping upstairs.

You've taken over Miles' room. There's no guest room if someone wants to visit me because you're sleeping upstairs."

This grown man who never lived with you the child's entire life. You've never made a space for him before. Left Grambling and went back to live in Florida. A room with a futon, lamp, and chair. He didn't come to visit when he was two hours away. A pass through on spring and winters break .... wash clothes, gas money ... up at 5am ... no breakfast .... gone! And he needs a room. The last time he stayed. He slept in your bed and you slept on the couch. Whatever!

The arguing escalated quickly. What the heck! I need permission to bring home the mini crockpots. No, I need permission about everything. To switch lamps between the two upper stairs bedrooms. To hang clocks where there are no time devices. To bring in a pilates machine. Because he can - he can control what comes in his house.

From the time I moved in and up till this moment, all I ever had in this dwelling is my clothes. I've never been allowed to empty the locker and bring my personal belongs home.

"Get out! I don't need your assistance. Don't touch my things. I am escalating ... Just leave me here. You have your car and I have mines. I'll finish the rest by myself."

Does he leave no. He refuses. He doesn't have to leave. He's not going to leave. He steps over to help leverage The Cross. "Leave it alone" "Get out" "You're not needed ... I don't need you."

Then, he steps to me and raises his fist as if to punch me in the face. So familiar to me ... Then, he fixes his mouth to spat in face. Also, familiar.

When I arrive home, I was greeted with the familiar spouting of vulgarities: "leach, bitch, whore, you sell pussy don't you - isn't that what a whore it. You don't pay any rent. (What wife pays rent????) You're just a leach. From day one, I never wanted you here. I bought this house with me in mind .. you were never a consideration. You were never suppose to be here." (Then why am I here? Why didn't you agree with separation papers???)

Yesterday, coming back from the locker. Switching summer and winter clothes. He wants to talk. About what?? The crockpots. Hell no, God.

Way pass the crockpots. Your fist in the air to punch me in the face. Your mouth pouted to spat in my face. The spewing of vulgarities ... all repetitive.

When will it stop? NEVER!

God, I am still asking you to fix this marriage. Or open a door for me to leave with support and better than when I came in. Retored, please.

God, your my Father. I love you always and thank you for all that you do for me.

Yo