Unseen. Unheard. Unimportant

 I don’t think he even notices me anymore.

Not really.

Some days, I feel like a shadow in my own home—familiar, always there, but never worth a second thought.

And lately, I don’t even know if I’m a shadow or just the space he walks through, barely aware that I’m there.

All day, I barely heard from him. Two texts. That’s it.

That’s not like him. Or at least, it didn’t used to be.

But lately, this is becoming our new norm.

The silence. The distance.

The slowly disappearing effort.

When he got home, I was in the bathroom, getting dressed, sorting laundry into piles on the floor as I went.

And to most people, it’s common sense not to step on clothes, even if they’re dirty and on the floor.

But because I know him, I asked him anyway.

"Please watch where you step. Don’t step all over the shit."

He heard me, but didn’t even bother to acknowledge me.

Stepped carefully around stuff at first.

But after a few in and outs of the room, my words were already forgotten.

As I watch him step all over my light-colored clothing with his nasty ass work boots.

He never listens to me.

Not about anything that he doesn’t consider important.

And because I was worried about the clothes, of course, he wasn’t.

"I didn’t see them there," he says.

I replied with, "Of course you didn’t, because you couldn’t be bothered to even look where you’re going."

And I know—it’s small. It’s just laundry.

But it’s the constant pile-up of the little things.

It’s just more proof, that to him, my words mean nothing.

That nothing that matters to me will ever really be heard.

🔥 The Stories He Tells Himself

Before I even had the chance to process my frustration over the laundry, Chad launched into a story—his version of what happened when he ran into Jonny.

I had asked him to stop at Tractor Supply on his way home to pick up some feed for my animals and grab some milk at the grocery store.

While there, he ran into Jonny.

Apparently, Jonny’s friends were “whipping their car around the parking lot,” and when Chad said something, Jonny went back and told his friends.

And that’s when they started "talking shit or running their mouths" or whatever phrase it was that he used.

Except that’s not what happened.

See, Chad has a way of exaggerating things, especially when it comes to Jonny.

Like everything Jonny does needs to be scrutinized, turned into something bigger than it really is.

It’s like he’s waiting for Jonny to slip up.

Waiting for the moment he can throw his hands up and say, "See? I told you so."

So, when Jonny got home, I asked him what happened when he saw Chad.

And Jonny—who, just like any teenager, will lie to me about a lot of shit—but when it comes to interactions with Chad, he always tells me how it really is.

"Ma, I saw Chad and was like ‘Heeeey it’s Chad,’ and then he started on me for my friends’ driving, so I was more like ‘Oh, it’s Chad.’ So, I just didn’t pay him much attention, so I didn’t say anything to piss him off."

I asked him if his friends mouthed off to Chad.

He told me they didn’t even know Chad was there.

That they were joking about something else entirely.

I’ve met the kids he was hanging out with, and they don’t strike me as those kinds of kids.

But Chad, on the other hand…

He has a way of warping things to make them seem far worse than they really are.

And for what?

What does he gain from that?

That’s what I can’t figure out.

Why does he keep trying to create distance between me and my son?

Why does he turn every interaction into something worse than it is?

Why does he always need to be the victim?

And if it was just that, maybe I could ignore it.

Maybe I could roll my eyes and move on.

But it’s never just one thing with him.

🔥 The Boundaries He Keeps Breaking

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that boundaries don’t mean shit to Chad.

Not when they interfere with him in any way.

Not when they keep him from doing what he feels is necessary.

And that’s even more true when it comes to how he treats my animals.

I have told him so many times that he’s too rough with them.

That he hits them too hard.

That it needs to stop, period.

I even went and bought water guns specifically, so he’d have a non-physical way to discipline them.

I made it easy for him.

But today, while I was in the bathroom, I heard a loud bang.

And I didn’t even bother to ask him what happened.

Because I already knew what his answer would be.

Instead, I checked the security footage.

And there it was—him, throwing a damn slipper at one of my cats.

And after over ten years of telling him that it hurts me every time he hurts them.

After endless blowout fights. After my endless threats to call the police.

He still did it.

He ignored my boundaries. He ignored my anger. He ignored me once again and did whatever the hell he wanted.

So instead of starting yet another pointless argument right now, I texted him.

Because what’s the point? He’s just going to clam up and deny and defend himself.

And he didn’t even read the message when I sent it. Took him a good thirty minutes to even notice.

And you know what his response was?

“Are you serious?”

All I could think was, "Yes, I’m serious."

No, this is not a joke.

You are not above anyone. You don’t just get to do and treat anyone or anything however you please.

They are living creatures. They feel the pain of you lashing out every time. Whether they show it or not, pain is pain.

And yet, he doesn’t care.

🔥 The Silence That Says Everything

Later that night, even after all his bullshit from that day, I asked him to come outside and smoke with me.

A small moment. A chance to spend time together.

To talk.

To be something other than two strangers living under the same roof.

Do you think we talked?

No.

But I let it go. Didn’t make a big fuss about it.

And as hours went by, I sat alone outside.

While he was inside on that damn computer playing that goddamn game once again.

Oblivious to the fact that yet again, he’s putting me on the back burner.

Silently confirming everything I already knew.

And here I am, stupidly waiting.

Waiting for him to want me again.

Waiting for him to start caring again.

Waiting for him to finally see me again.

I’ve told him that I’m not happy, that things need to change.

I said that I’m done being the only one trying and not getting any effort back.

But I can’t stop.

I’m still trying.

Still hoping.

Still begging him, silently, to be the man who made everything feel like it was home.

But he won’t.

Because how can you change something you refuse to see?

He hasn’t even noticed that I’m slipping away.

And the worst part? My hope that he ever will....... Is slipping away with me.