Julius would avoid me because he didn’t want to fight, but I twisted it to he didn’t care about me.
When I saw him, I'd just be even more angry. Angry at myself for eating so much, for hurting and for yelling at him yesterday. So angry that I’d just scream at him again.
I blamed hormones, I blamed him, I blamed pregnancy, I turned against everything but myself. Because I was the victim. I was the one that this pregnancy was happening to.
Then the children were born and my behavior had become habitual.
I blamed breastfeeding and lack of sleep. I blamed having too many children and not enough money. These were all real things, and to me they were valid. But they just amplified the truth underneath: