Anyone else having a shitty day? No? Just me? Cool. Cool cool.
So my day started with My grandfather said something today that landed like a sucker punch. Not the warm, “I’m curious about you” kind of punch. No. Sharp. Mean. That kind of sentence that doesn’t just sting—it moves in, unpacks, and refuses to leave like an unwelcome houseguest who eats your snacks. And somehow… it broke my whole day in half.
After that, everything unraveled.
I snapped at my little brother. Yep, told him straight up he was being dumb, making excuses, ghosting the family. I get not traveling for the wedding. Totally. But not talking to Mom and Dad? Not calling your nephews? That’s cold. Sub-zero, Antarctica-level cold.
I know I went too far, but I’m running on fumes here. I feel like I’m the only one holding this family together while everyone else is just… doing interpretive disappearing acts.
Then, plot twist: eight extra guests. Eight. I didn’t invite them, I didn’t budget for them, I didn’t even know they existed. And it’s my bio dad’s family so the second I say anything it’s a fucking hassle.
And Hector’s family? Don’t even get me started. Every word I say is wrong.
I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I’m done.
Also, my dress looks like something that was made last minute, and it kinda hurts because I don’t want to tell my mom. Like yes, everything else is chaotic, but now my outfit is auditioning for “most likely to betray its wearer at the altar.” Perfect. Just perfect.
I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I’m done.
This wasn’t the dream. Not the tension, not the silence, not the endless tiptoeing on eggshells. I just wanted acceptance. A little peace. The freedom to make decisions without them turning it into a United Nations debate. Mutual respect. That’s all.
I don’t think either of our families realize or even care, but honestly, I’m over both of them. If and when Hector makes a decision about his family, I will stand by it because I’m his wife. I’m not going to try to change his mind. I’m not going to apologize to his family for his choices. He’s a grown man. He’s thirty. Thirty! Why am I being asked to explain his actions or worse apologize for them?
If I never talk to my brother again, that’s my choice, and I can only hope Hector will stand by me.
But honestly… if this is how they act for a wedding, maybe I don’t even want a baby. Asking for them to respect me apparently is asking for a unicorn to clean my kitchen.
Today has been so rough I can’t even promise I won’t cry again tonight. Probably over coffee, probably over chocolate, definitely over both.
And yes, this is a public blog. Yes, I know some people are out there dissecting, twisting my words, judging. Maybe I should delete it. Maybe I should quit. But honestly? I can’t.
I love Hector. But this chaos? This nonsense? It’s stupid.
Why is everyone using a party as an excuse to be an asshole? Seriously, what did I even do that was that terrible?
P.S. Obviously, don’t take this too seriously. Apparently, that needs to be said. Wild, I know. These are my feelings — not universal truths.
