My husband left for his out-of-town job at 7am this morning, and he took my box of spring lettuce.
It's left over from last week, but it's still crisp, so I didn't buy any fresh lettuce. You know, like we did for him Sunday night at the grocery story.
And I'm not sure, but I feel like the thermostat is set at 62 F, Again. I've been freezing my butt off for about 12 hours. I forgot to check it last time I was in the kitchen. Before that, I was sleeping about 16 hours, not including waking up at 2pm to make some business calls and return some emails.
No depression here. Nope. No depression. Uh-huh.
Monday, March 26, 2012
I Still Can't Believe It
I'm not sure how my husband got to be in his mid-forties and not know the following things:
* What a ladle is
* What a spaghetti grabber is
* The difference between a Kotex and a Tampon (granted, lot's of men don't know this, but still)
* Unplugging various devices (cell phone, crock pot), that are difficult for someone in a wheelchair to plug in so that he might save 10 cents on the electric bill
* Throwing things to someone who is disabled is probably not the best way to give them something, especially if that something is three pairs of underwear that all went different directions
* Handing things to me when my hands are already full and I'm trying to get around using a rolling desk chair
Honest-to-god, having him around is like having a toddler. We're both so relieved when the weekend ends and he goes back to work.
* What a ladle is
* What a spaghetti grabber is
* The difference between a Kotex and a Tampon (granted, lot's of men don't know this, but still)
* Unplugging various devices (cell phone, crock pot), that are difficult for someone in a wheelchair to plug in so that he might save 10 cents on the electric bill
* Throwing things to someone who is disabled is probably not the best way to give them something, especially if that something is three pairs of underwear that all went different directions
* Handing things to me when my hands are already full and I'm trying to get around using a rolling desk chair
Honest-to-god, having him around is like having a toddler. We're both so relieved when the weekend ends and he goes back to work.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Conversation
My husband and I had a substantive conversation about the state of our marriage tonight. He offered to not come home on the weekends. He'd continue to help financially, but he would stay at his place out of town on the weekends near where he works.
That gave me pause. Part of me was delighted, the injured and healing part of me was not so happy. Other than the nurses who are in and out of here all week, I don't see anyone. I don't have a lot of close friends here--purposely--and a few of the people I'd love to come visit, can't afford it, don't have time, or aren't interested in being where the snow is. So on Friday, I need the husb to handle bizness here--laundry, grocery shopping, mail if it hasn't been gotten by one of the nurses.
So we're at a crossroads. I asked him, "How hard are you willing to work to keep this marriage? I don't feel like you're here even when you're here. I don't feel cared for or about."
It made me very sad. I was reviewing some of my old emails from him, and we were so giddy with our new love, so excited and so happy for the future, and so in love. It's almost dead. Ruined. That makes me sad.
I'm wondering if, after I am up and around, we should try a trial separation.
And here I thought I was hiding my feelings so well.
That gave me pause. Part of me was delighted, the injured and healing part of me was not so happy. Other than the nurses who are in and out of here all week, I don't see anyone. I don't have a lot of close friends here--purposely--and a few of the people I'd love to come visit, can't afford it, don't have time, or aren't interested in being where the snow is. So on Friday, I need the husb to handle bizness here--laundry, grocery shopping, mail if it hasn't been gotten by one of the nurses.
So we're at a crossroads. I asked him, "How hard are you willing to work to keep this marriage? I don't feel like you're here even when you're here. I don't feel cared for or about."
It made me very sad. I was reviewing some of my old emails from him, and we were so giddy with our new love, so excited and so happy for the future, and so in love. It's almost dead. Ruined. That makes me sad.
I'm wondering if, after I am up and around, we should try a trial separation.
And here I thought I was hiding my feelings so well.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Recovering
I have a cast on, so I can't get into a tub or shower. I've been doing what my mom always called "bird baths"; wash in the sink with a washcloth. But last Saturday, I had a great idea, and here's the text of an email from the fallout of that great idea to a friend--something my Lurch of a husband did:
When I took my patio shower yesterday, we needed to turn on the cold water so I wouldn’t boil myself to death on the hot water only coming from the spigot. I told him to turn it on, but put one of those “big blue bowls (Tupperware HUGE bowl), in the lower left cupboard, under it, to catch the water while I’m showering. And don’t forget to turn it off.
So I shower, get toweled off and into a clean nightie, and I say, “Don’t forget to turn the cold water off.”
Lurch says, “Yeah, uh-huh. Ok.” And lumbers off.
Today, I’m teaching him how to grill chicken and make some rice from my rolling desk chair I'm sitting in in our dinky kitchen, and so I had him load up the dishwasher. Since it was full, I said, “Let’s run it while it’s full.” I open the cupboard door to get a gel soap pack, you know, the one he just bought 48 hours ago? from the bucket underneath the counter. Only it’s under the cold water knob and full of water. With everything still inside of it. One new pack of dishwasher gel packs melted into oblivion, wet nitrile gloves, glue, sponges, etc.
I’m telling you, the man does not live in this world.
Glad I didn’t pay for the gel packs; I’d be pissed. LOL
Friday, March 2, 2012
Accident
I had an accident last week, and I hurt myself rather badly. A relative flew out from another state to look after me for what they said would be two weeks.
When they arrived, they decided they would be leaving on Monday instead.
On Wednesday, they decided they would leave on Friday.
They left. My idiot husband drove them to a hotel where they want to spend the night "alone" and try to change their flight to tomorrow. And where they want to fly to is being hit hard by tornadoes right now. I don't know how they think they're going to land at their airport of choice with massive high winds, thunderstorms, and tornadoes going on.
I can't walk--the crutches are difficult for me, I get dizzy and tend to tip over; I don't have enough strength in my arms to lift myself up out of a chair or off the floor. Last night my husband was helping me off the toilet, and he dropped me. I had to crawl on my hands and knees back into the living where there's a big chair I could pull myself up into. And I still needed help. I pee in a big plastic bowl. I can't get home health care for love or money. On Monday, I will be on my own. I haven't showered since the 28th although I've had sitz baths; I haven't washed my hair since the 28th. I'm yucky.
So my husband came home and the first thing he did was ask me for money. I already gave him $400- and where he should allocate the money. He already spent it. He even wants me to repay him for some Chinese food he picked up for us on Monday night. Who does that? And he wants more? And was angry that I wrote my relative a check for part of their airfare to come out here? I can't take this, I just can't. I'm thinking of asking him to move out. Now. This weekend.
I can't survive on my own financially, but I can't survive living this way regardless.
I feel abandoned, alone, and very, very, very, very angry.
When they arrived, they decided they would be leaving on Monday instead.
On Wednesday, they decided they would leave on Friday.
They left. My idiot husband drove them to a hotel where they want to spend the night "alone" and try to change their flight to tomorrow. And where they want to fly to is being hit hard by tornadoes right now. I don't know how they think they're going to land at their airport of choice with massive high winds, thunderstorms, and tornadoes going on.
I can't walk--the crutches are difficult for me, I get dizzy and tend to tip over; I don't have enough strength in my arms to lift myself up out of a chair or off the floor. Last night my husband was helping me off the toilet, and he dropped me. I had to crawl on my hands and knees back into the living where there's a big chair I could pull myself up into. And I still needed help. I pee in a big plastic bowl. I can't get home health care for love or money. On Monday, I will be on my own. I haven't showered since the 28th although I've had sitz baths; I haven't washed my hair since the 28th. I'm yucky.
So my husband came home and the first thing he did was ask me for money. I already gave him $400- and where he should allocate the money. He already spent it. He even wants me to repay him for some Chinese food he picked up for us on Monday night. Who does that? And he wants more? And was angry that I wrote my relative a check for part of their airfare to come out here? I can't take this, I just can't. I'm thinking of asking him to move out. Now. This weekend.
I can't survive on my own financially, but I can't survive living this way regardless.
I feel abandoned, alone, and very, very, very, very angry.
Monday, February 20, 2012
I Married an Idiot
Honest-to-G*d.
He had today off, even though I didn't, and we ran some errands. He is not a good driver because he doesn't pay attention. We almost rear ended someone today because he was running his mouth instead of watching where he was going.
He missed driveways, parked me so close to an evergreen bush I could barely get out of the car; pulled the car out and then sat there, blocking traffic, as he waited for me to get to the car instead of driving toward me (I had mailed a letter); we bought groceries. When we got home, he handed me 3 bags of groceries and said "that's it."
"Really?" I said. "Where's the milk? Where are the Kotex?"
"I'll go check the car."
"OK" says I. I walk into the kitchen and there, on the stovetop (and we've had many, many conversations about not putting stuff on the glass stovetop [because you can't tell if it's hot or not.]), is the milk, the Kotex, and four bags of groceries. Also, a plastic bag holding a container of anti-freeze (that needs to stay in the car). He comes back in angry because he went out to the car for no reason.
"All you had to do was tell me you brought groceries in and put them on the stove. I thought the three bags you handed me were your first trip from the Car."
"I don't know what I brought in." And so on. And then an argument ensued about not putting items on the stove. More later.
He had today off, even though I didn't, and we ran some errands. He is not a good driver because he doesn't pay attention. We almost rear ended someone today because he was running his mouth instead of watching where he was going.
He missed driveways, parked me so close to an evergreen bush I could barely get out of the car; pulled the car out and then sat there, blocking traffic, as he waited for me to get to the car instead of driving toward me (I had mailed a letter); we bought groceries. When we got home, he handed me 3 bags of groceries and said "that's it."
"Really?" I said. "Where's the milk? Where are the Kotex?"
"I'll go check the car."
"OK" says I. I walk into the kitchen and there, on the stovetop (and we've had many, many conversations about not putting stuff on the glass stovetop [because you can't tell if it's hot or not.]), is the milk, the Kotex, and four bags of groceries. Also, a plastic bag holding a container of anti-freeze (that needs to stay in the car). He comes back in angry because he went out to the car for no reason.
"All you had to do was tell me you brought groceries in and put them on the stove. I thought the three bags you handed me were your first trip from the Car."
"I don't know what I brought in." And so on. And then an argument ensued about not putting items on the stove. More later.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Did I miss something?
My husband and I like Coke Zero. OK, we LOVE Coke Zero. A lot.
I limit myself to two per day. I could drink more, but two...a day.
It wasn't on sale when we went to the grocery store on Sunday like normal, so we bought a twenty-pack and decided we would split it Usually a 12-pack is $3.48; they went up to $4.99, while a 20-pack was $7.50. He brought it into the house (heavy), I took out ten cans, put six in the cupboard, and put four in the refrigerator. He took his ten out to the van.
Monday morning, all four cold cans were gone from the refrigerator.
He probably drank two and took two for the road. So that means he got fourteen Cokes, and I got six.
*rolleyes*
I limit myself to two per day. I could drink more, but two...a day.
It wasn't on sale when we went to the grocery store on Sunday like normal, so we bought a twenty-pack and decided we would split it Usually a 12-pack is $3.48; they went up to $4.99, while a 20-pack was $7.50. He brought it into the house (heavy), I took out ten cans, put six in the cupboard, and put four in the refrigerator. He took his ten out to the van.
Monday morning, all four cold cans were gone from the refrigerator.
He probably drank two and took two for the road. So that means he got fourteen Cokes, and I got six.
*rolleyes*
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Stove: Huh
I got up at 7am today, although I was awake from 6am on forward. My husband got a snow advisory that work would begin after 10am, so he got to sleep in a bit. It was snowing here, but had melted within 20 minutes. Too bad. I'm really hoping for a whopping huge blizzard and it just hasn't come yet.
So anyway, I sliced a bagel and put it in the toaster, only it wouldn't turn on. Now yesterday, like I always do on Sundays, I made my husband a week's worth of meals for while he's working out of town (there's nowhere to eat where he works, and it's just cheaper, also). Since the stove was out, I used the crock pot to make Martha Stewart's Soy-Ginger Chicken. It's quite good, I've made it many times over the years. The rice I made in the microwave following directions I printed off the net.
Urgh, notsomuch. Very rubbery and hard. He's going to hate it. Oh well.
But back to the toaster. The stove, really. The other night when he blew it up, he was pacing fro the kitchen to the dining room (an L shape) and back, hitting himself in the head (he hits himself when he's upset), moaning and whining about "Oh no! Oh shit!" and how he'd fucked up, what an asshole he was, and he "needed to check the breaker." Since the breakers are in the kitchen, and he was whining about them, I took that to mean that he had checked them.
Nope.
When I couldn't toast my bagel, I checked the wall breaker panel right by the light switch to the kitchen and what do you know? Two breakers were flipped. I turned them back on and the toaster AND the stove both work. Huh. How about that.
***
Update
I emailed my husband to let him know that the stove was working--the breakers were off! His response?
"I know. I turned them off. I was afraid the stove would overheat."
*crickets*
Seriously, abso-fucking-lutely NO communication going on here. Jesuz just kill me now.
***
I got up early yesterday (Monday), felt great, got a lot of work done including some calls with new clients (I hate talking on the phone), then thought I'd take a little nap at 2pm. I woke up at 2am. Yeah, no weird sleep pathology going on here. *fuckme*
So anyway, I sliced a bagel and put it in the toaster, only it wouldn't turn on. Now yesterday, like I always do on Sundays, I made my husband a week's worth of meals for while he's working out of town (there's nowhere to eat where he works, and it's just cheaper, also). Since the stove was out, I used the crock pot to make Martha Stewart's Soy-Ginger Chicken. It's quite good, I've made it many times over the years. The rice I made in the microwave following directions I printed off the net.
Urgh, notsomuch. Very rubbery and hard. He's going to hate it. Oh well.
But back to the toaster. The stove, really. The other night when he blew it up, he was pacing fro the kitchen to the dining room (an L shape) and back, hitting himself in the head (he hits himself when he's upset), moaning and whining about "Oh no! Oh shit!" and how he'd fucked up, what an asshole he was, and he "needed to check the breaker." Since the breakers are in the kitchen, and he was whining about them, I took that to mean that he had checked them.
Nope.
When I couldn't toast my bagel, I checked the wall breaker panel right by the light switch to the kitchen and what do you know? Two breakers were flipped. I turned them back on and the toaster AND the stove both work. Huh. How about that.
***
Update
I emailed my husband to let him know that the stove was working--the breakers were off! His response?
"I know. I turned them off. I was afraid the stove would overheat."
*crickets*
Seriously, abso-fucking-lutely NO communication going on here. Jesuz just kill me now.
***
I got up early yesterday (Monday), felt great, got a lot of work done including some calls with new clients (I hate talking on the phone), then thought I'd take a little nap at 2pm. I woke up at 2am. Yeah, no weird sleep pathology going on here. *fuckme*
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Some thoughts on a relationship: Whitney, RIP
I just want to relate an example of the nature of my relationship with my husband. This happened tonight, as we sat in the van out in the parking lot when we returned from the grocery store.
The side doors on our van have electronic buttons that will open the doors. I wanted that door opened on the passenger side behind me to get the box that held the leftovers of my dinner. I kept pressing the button but it wouldn't open. So I pressed unlock then the button, then the door lock and the button, and nothing; it wouldn't open. I did this about four times, pushing the buttons in different sequence.
Finally I turned to my husband who was jabbering about something (that he'd probably already told me about 5 times already), and I said, "why won't the door open?"
"Oh", he said. "Here." And he pressed the main unlock button in the door on the driver' side.
He sat there and watched me push those buttons over and over and did nothing. He lives only in his own thoughts, not in the world at large. He was not paying any attention to what I was doing. This is what my whole day is like when I spend it with him. When I speak, I have to repeat myself constantly, because he's not paying attention. Even when we're having a so-called "conversation."
***
I've been watching some music videos of Whitney Houston from her heyday in the 80s and 90s, and I've been crying. Not just her death, which is horrible--she was a year younger than me--but of the memories that come up with her music.
I can remember where I was and what I was doing the first time I saw "How Will I Know" for the first time on MTV. And the boyfriend I had. The one who died in '88 of a horrible illness. He was horrible to me a lot, but I loved him, and we had some good times, too. I don't think I'll ever really get over his death.
And the song from THE BODYGUARD, "I'll always love you" reminds me of my second husband. We had "always and forever" engraved on well, on his wedding ring. I still love him, too. He was in prison, and I found out recently (I looked up his daughter's FB page and there was a photo of him) that he had been released from prison. He looks the same, just gray hair in his goatee. I'd love to see him, but it's not a good idea on many levels. I divorced him in '97, and he may hold a grudge against me from then---or not. But I just don't want to get reinvolved with the lifestyle he lived. I don't know if he's still involved with it or not, but I don't want to run the risk. He's a good man. I wish him happiness.
This is a sad day in many ways.
I'm calling for a therapist on Monday. I wonder if I should be in the hospital? We'll see.
It's weird that Whitney is dead. I wonder what it's like, for her? What is her afterlife like? Is she happy?
The side doors on our van have electronic buttons that will open the doors. I wanted that door opened on the passenger side behind me to get the box that held the leftovers of my dinner. I kept pressing the button but it wouldn't open. So I pressed unlock then the button, then the door lock and the button, and nothing; it wouldn't open. I did this about four times, pushing the buttons in different sequence.
Finally I turned to my husband who was jabbering about something (that he'd probably already told me about 5 times already), and I said, "why won't the door open?"
"Oh", he said. "Here." And he pressed the main unlock button in the door on the driver' side.
He sat there and watched me push those buttons over and over and did nothing. He lives only in his own thoughts, not in the world at large. He was not paying any attention to what I was doing. This is what my whole day is like when I spend it with him. When I speak, I have to repeat myself constantly, because he's not paying attention. Even when we're having a so-called "conversation."
***
I've been watching some music videos of Whitney Houston from her heyday in the 80s and 90s, and I've been crying. Not just her death, which is horrible--she was a year younger than me--but of the memories that come up with her music.
I can remember where I was and what I was doing the first time I saw "How Will I Know" for the first time on MTV. And the boyfriend I had. The one who died in '88 of a horrible illness. He was horrible to me a lot, but I loved him, and we had some good times, too. I don't think I'll ever really get over his death.
And the song from THE BODYGUARD, "I'll always love you" reminds me of my second husband. We had "always and forever" engraved on well, on his wedding ring. I still love him, too. He was in prison, and I found out recently (I looked up his daughter's FB page and there was a photo of him) that he had been released from prison. He looks the same, just gray hair in his goatee. I'd love to see him, but it's not a good idea on many levels. I divorced him in '97, and he may hold a grudge against me from then---or not. But I just don't want to get reinvolved with the lifestyle he lived. I don't know if he's still involved with it or not, but I don't want to run the risk. He's a good man. I wish him happiness.
This is a sad day in many ways.
I'm calling for a therapist on Monday. I wonder if I should be in the hospital? We'll see.
It's weird that Whitney is dead. I wonder what it's like, for her? What is her afterlife like? Is she happy?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Well, I managed to pull my crap together for the rest of the week and have lunch with a colleague and new friend (we'd only met via email); clean the living room, try to vacuum (it just died--I wheeled it out to the bin), and even got some work done.
But as I was watching TV last night, these commercials for Cancer Centers of America came on. And it highlights cancer survivors, the wonderful care they received at CCA, and how they had a new lease on life with their cancer recovery.
These were people who embraced life, wanted to live every day to its fullest.
I wish I could be one of those people. I know that life is a gift, that it's short, believe me, I know, time has really zipped by for me. But I spend a lot of time wondering what is on "the other side." What happens after death? I think this is the thing that keeps me from dying, really, is that not knowing. Lot's of people have died before me--billions--but none of them ever came back with any reliability to tell the rest of us what it's like. Or what is our real purpose here? Life can be so very hard, so confusing, so sad. The moments of happiness are so few and far between. I never really understood or learned what it meant to be an adult. I just...don't get it. So many people I know, many younger than me, who have their shit together. And I just don't. I don't know how.
I wish I knew how to live life to the fullest--I wish I knew how to make myself feel that way. But I don't think it's something you can force. Either you have it or you don't.
I don't, and because I am aware of this, it just adds to my feelings of worthlessness, sadness, and depression.
But as I was watching TV last night, these commercials for Cancer Centers of America came on. And it highlights cancer survivors, the wonderful care they received at CCA, and how they had a new lease on life with their cancer recovery.
These were people who embraced life, wanted to live every day to its fullest.
I wish I could be one of those people. I know that life is a gift, that it's short, believe me, I know, time has really zipped by for me. But I spend a lot of time wondering what is on "the other side." What happens after death? I think this is the thing that keeps me from dying, really, is that not knowing. Lot's of people have died before me--billions--but none of them ever came back with any reliability to tell the rest of us what it's like. Or what is our real purpose here? Life can be so very hard, so confusing, so sad. The moments of happiness are so few and far between. I never really understood or learned what it meant to be an adult. I just...don't get it. So many people I know, many younger than me, who have their shit together. And I just don't. I don't know how.
I wish I knew how to live life to the fullest--I wish I knew how to make myself feel that way. But I don't think it's something you can force. Either you have it or you don't.
I don't, and because I am aware of this, it just adds to my feelings of worthlessness, sadness, and depression.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Laissez-faire
Things I no longer do (and am simultaneously both appalled yet don't give a fuck).
bathe
wash hair
I skip my teeth once or twice a week. Although brushing doesn't do them any good. I inherited bad teeth. Well, what teeth I have left
clean house--not including dishes, trash or cat boxes, because they smell. Eww.
leave the house (except to get mail late at night with my coat on over my pajamas)
dress
sleep at night
anything productive
answer the phone (wait, that I never do if I don't know who it is, or, rather, do know. *ahem*)
plan for the future
wash my face
get dressed
I skipped all my pills last night, not on purpose, I just didn't feel like coming upstairs to get them and picking up where we left off on our post-stove explosion fight.
I do take an anti-depressant and and anti-anxiety.
Actually, all in total, I have 8 prescriptions. No, 10, but two of those are asthma inhalers. A steroid and a rescue. I can't afford the steroid one right now.
So how do I present myself to the world? Online and via social media, my only interactions with other people 99% of the time? I fake it. I save everything dark and dirty for this blog, otherwise it would leak out to other aspects of my life. (Or maybe I'm not covering up as well as I should?) Who knows.
I don't post anything like the above on any social media. Indeed, I just read an article in TIME magazine about the new Facebook Timeline. It's a real information-gathering machine. I spent about an hour locking down my FB account. Everything is friends only. You can't even ask to be my friend if I don't already know you or are a friend of a friend. Yeah, I'm private. Find the article and read it. It's hella scary.
I took an Ambien (oops, that makes 11 prescriptions), and I'm going to stream a Netflix while I wait for it to kick in. *fingerscrosseditworks*
bathe
wash hair
I skip my teeth once or twice a week. Although brushing doesn't do them any good. I inherited bad teeth. Well, what teeth I have left
clean house--not including dishes, trash or cat boxes, because they smell. Eww.
leave the house (except to get mail late at night with my coat on over my pajamas)
dress
sleep at night
anything productive
answer the phone (wait, that I never do if I don't know who it is, or, rather, do know. *ahem*)
plan for the future
wash my face
get dressed
I skipped all my pills last night, not on purpose, I just didn't feel like coming upstairs to get them and picking up where we left off on our post-stove explosion fight.
I do take an anti-depressant and and anti-anxiety.
Actually, all in total, I have 8 prescriptions. No, 10, but two of those are asthma inhalers. A steroid and a rescue. I can't afford the steroid one right now.
So how do I present myself to the world? Online and via social media, my only interactions with other people 99% of the time? I fake it. I save everything dark and dirty for this blog, otherwise it would leak out to other aspects of my life. (Or maybe I'm not covering up as well as I should?) Who knows.
I don't post anything like the above on any social media. Indeed, I just read an article in TIME magazine about the new Facebook Timeline. It's a real information-gathering machine. I spent about an hour locking down my FB account. Everything is friends only. You can't even ask to be my friend if I don't already know you or are a friend of a friend. Yeah, I'm private. Find the article and read it. It's hella scary.
I took an Ambien (oops, that makes 11 prescriptions), and I'm going to stream a Netflix while I wait for it to kick in. *fingerscrosseditworks*
Monday, February 6, 2012
Never Better.
I knew my husband had a disability when I married him, I just did not know how severe it was. Until tonight.
He blew up our electric stove. The how of it is not as important as the fact that he made a stupid choice that 99.9% of people, who aren't electricians, would make. So we are stoveless for now.
For a long time we both thought that my husband had Asperger's Syndrome. The LCSW he saw three times this past fall said she didn't think so, although she thought he was on the autism spectrum for sure. How the hell would she know that from three visits? I've known him eight years and I'm still trying to figure it out. I called her after he got in trouble at work, she called back and said she'd requested some testing from our insurance, and she'd get back to me. That's been two months, now. Do I care enough to call her? Or did she mail it to us and he hid it, as he does much of the mail.
My husband...is not right. I can't explain it. As I said, I'm still trying to figure it out. I remember a made-for-TV-movie that was on in the late 90s. It was based on a true-story about a family who had adopted a Native American boy who had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. The adoptive parents loved the boy and did everything they could for him to be a productive member of society and a good person.
Finally, one night, when the boy was about fifteen, they went out to dinner and left him home alone to do his homework. They came home to water tumbling down the stairs from the upstairs bathroom. The downstairs was quickly filling with water as well.
When they asked their son what had happened? He explained that he couldn't get the water to turn off, so he had closed the door so "there wouldn't be any consequences."
He had no concept of what a consequence was and could not take responsibility for his actions. It was the last straw for the parents. They found a different living situation for the boy, I think it was a group home, I don't remember. No matter what they did, was kinds of therapists, training, psychotherapy, discussions they did with the child, he was not capable of being responsible.
And that resonates for me now. No matter how many ties I give my husband a direction, he does not remember it. No matter how many times I tell him--10, 20, 100 times. He cannot make the change or follow the direction. He is not capable.
It does not make him a bad person. It just makes him a very, very difficult person to live with. I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm decompensating very badly, and that's perhaps why I sleep about 12-18 hours a day.
I have no money.
I have no friends or family who would take me in. And my cats.
I'm trapped.
When I had the money, I didn't go, because we suddenly had health insurance for the first time in 6 years, and I was going to get him some help with a psychologist. And it didn't really work out. Things didn't get addressed, didn't get better, nothing changed. Except the money was gone.
I feel like to save myself, I've got to leave. I don't want a divorce, but neither can I live with him. It's just too exhausting. I feel like I have a toddler who needs constant supervising. If I had a dog or a cat who behaved this way, I'd be finding them a new place to live.
Lord help me.
He blew up our electric stove. The how of it is not as important as the fact that he made a stupid choice that 99.9% of people, who aren't electricians, would make. So we are stoveless for now.
For a long time we both thought that my husband had Asperger's Syndrome. The LCSW he saw three times this past fall said she didn't think so, although she thought he was on the autism spectrum for sure. How the hell would she know that from three visits? I've known him eight years and I'm still trying to figure it out. I called her after he got in trouble at work, she called back and said she'd requested some testing from our insurance, and she'd get back to me. That's been two months, now. Do I care enough to call her? Or did she mail it to us and he hid it, as he does much of the mail.
My husband...is not right. I can't explain it. As I said, I'm still trying to figure it out. I remember a made-for-TV-movie that was on in the late 90s. It was based on a true-story about a family who had adopted a Native American boy who had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. The adoptive parents loved the boy and did everything they could for him to be a productive member of society and a good person.
Finally, one night, when the boy was about fifteen, they went out to dinner and left him home alone to do his homework. They came home to water tumbling down the stairs from the upstairs bathroom. The downstairs was quickly filling with water as well.
When they asked their son what had happened? He explained that he couldn't get the water to turn off, so he had closed the door so "there wouldn't be any consequences."
He had no concept of what a consequence was and could not take responsibility for his actions. It was the last straw for the parents. They found a different living situation for the boy, I think it was a group home, I don't remember. No matter what they did, was kinds of therapists, training, psychotherapy, discussions they did with the child, he was not capable of being responsible.
And that resonates for me now. No matter how many ties I give my husband a direction, he does not remember it. No matter how many times I tell him--10, 20, 100 times. He cannot make the change or follow the direction. He is not capable.
It does not make him a bad person. It just makes him a very, very difficult person to live with. I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm decompensating very badly, and that's perhaps why I sleep about 12-18 hours a day.
I have no money.
I have no friends or family who would take me in. And my cats.
I'm trapped.
When I had the money, I didn't go, because we suddenly had health insurance for the first time in 6 years, and I was going to get him some help with a psychologist. And it didn't really work out. Things didn't get addressed, didn't get better, nothing changed. Except the money was gone.
I feel like to save myself, I've got to leave. I don't want a divorce, but neither can I live with him. It's just too exhausting. I feel like I have a toddler who needs constant supervising. If I had a dog or a cat who behaved this way, I'd be finding them a new place to live.
Lord help me.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Depression Doih
There's an old adage that says something like, "If you think you're crazy, you're probably not."
I may have been living in denial-land lately, denying that I'm not depressed, convincing myself that I just don't feel well.
Depression can make you feel physically unwell.
I slept from 7am to 7pm today, and I feel like I could take a nap.
My world is in danger of collapsing around me, and I just don't care.
I just don't care.
I may have been living in denial-land lately, denying that I'm not depressed, convincing myself that I just don't feel well.
Depression can make you feel physically unwell.
I slept from 7am to 7pm today, and I feel like I could take a nap.
My world is in danger of collapsing around me, and I just don't care.
I just don't care.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I was so determined....
...to get up at a reasonable hour (noon), but at 5am I was still awake without not a droopy eyelid in sight. So I kept reading. I don't know what time I got to sleep. The sun was up, that's for sure. And I woke up at 6:30pm. And I was pissed. Again.
I had a laundry list of things to do today, and I felt like since it was already dark, there was no point in even attempting to get anything done. And the hours awake loomed ahead of me. How to fill those hours.
And then I decided, you know what? fuck it, I'm taking a shower and running those errands--I have 3 hours to get them done--and I can make it. Phone calls that need to be made during biz hours, well, we'll try again tomorrow, but for today? We're not giving up.
So I showered including washing my hair (first time since Saturday), got dressed, made coffee, fixed a to-go mug, let one cat out, hugged the others, and headed out to pick up prescriptions at two different pharmacies.
I made it. I got all three prescriptions. I also was able to pick up a couple of things I needed at the store, and I still had time to go to Trader Joe's and get some dinner. And dessert. I knew I needed a dessert.
There was the 24 Karat Cake (carrot cake); Opera Cakes (not sure what these were but they looked yummy and came in chocolate, chocolate caramel, and raspberry vanilla bits); chocolate ganache cake, and chocolate covered panettone w/Italian cream interior.
I almost bought them all.
But I was too embarrassed that the cashier might wonder why I needed so many desserts. So I picked one: The Panettone. It was frozen, so it's been defrosting since about 9:30pm. It will be ready, shortly.
I also bought a bottle of champagne. I love champagne and have decided to drink it more for casual occasions. It's just sparkling wine.
So today was a better day, and changing my attitude helped a lot. I got a lot done.
My list for tomorrow is still long, but hey, it's better than being dead, right?
I had a laundry list of things to do today, and I felt like since it was already dark, there was no point in even attempting to get anything done. And the hours awake loomed ahead of me. How to fill those hours.
And then I decided, you know what? fuck it, I'm taking a shower and running those errands--I have 3 hours to get them done--and I can make it. Phone calls that need to be made during biz hours, well, we'll try again tomorrow, but for today? We're not giving up.
So I showered including washing my hair (first time since Saturday), got dressed, made coffee, fixed a to-go mug, let one cat out, hugged the others, and headed out to pick up prescriptions at two different pharmacies.
I made it. I got all three prescriptions. I also was able to pick up a couple of things I needed at the store, and I still had time to go to Trader Joe's and get some dinner. And dessert. I knew I needed a dessert.
There was the 24 Karat Cake (carrot cake); Opera Cakes (not sure what these were but they looked yummy and came in chocolate, chocolate caramel, and raspberry vanilla bits); chocolate ganache cake, and chocolate covered panettone w/Italian cream interior.
I almost bought them all.
But I was too embarrassed that the cashier might wonder why I needed so many desserts. So I picked one: The Panettone. It was frozen, so it's been defrosting since about 9:30pm. It will be ready, shortly.
I also bought a bottle of champagne. I love champagne and have decided to drink it more for casual occasions. It's just sparkling wine.
So today was a better day, and changing my attitude helped a lot. I got a lot done.
My list for tomorrow is still long, but hey, it's better than being dead, right?
Monday, January 30, 2012
Just Have Me Euthanized
Aww fuck me. Today sucked on so many levels. This sleeping late, this is no longer funny, not that it ever was.
I missed a client meeting today at noon, a client phone call, two emails, and sunlight.
I couldn't sleep last night, I was up until 5am, I finally was able to fall asleep, and I turned my alarm off when it came on at 10:30am, emailed the client and asked if we could move until 1pm, went back to sleep, and the next thing I knew it was dark, and 6:30pm.
F*CK.
F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.
What is going on with me? I mean, I slept like I'd been drugged, and I was groggy when I woke up, tripping and falling all over the place, and I called one clinet back and gave her my maiden name instead of my married name. WTF?
And I dreamed all night about my ex-husband. He was in prison, and he got out sometime last year (I saw his picture on his daughter's facebook page). I feel of two minds about that--hooray for him!! and Crap, what if he's mad at me? I left him in 1996 when it became clear that he wouldn't be getting out any time soon, and yeah, I'd met someone else by then. I hung in for eight years, visiting him in the joint, but he told me two whopping big lies that related to who he really was and how much time he would probably do....and I made a better choice for me--to live life outside of prison and a husband who lived there. And I think it was the right choice. But I still love him. I hope he finds happiness. It's hard for me not to reach out to him, but it's such a bad idea on so many levels. Bad. Idea.
Picking up the pieces of my shit day and moving on. But I'm so upset I'm shaking a little bit.
Gah.
I missed a client meeting today at noon, a client phone call, two emails, and sunlight.
I couldn't sleep last night, I was up until 5am, I finally was able to fall asleep, and I turned my alarm off when it came on at 10:30am, emailed the client and asked if we could move until 1pm, went back to sleep, and the next thing I knew it was dark, and 6:30pm.
F*CK.
F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.F*CK.
What is going on with me? I mean, I slept like I'd been drugged, and I was groggy when I woke up, tripping and falling all over the place, and I called one clinet back and gave her my maiden name instead of my married name. WTF?
And I dreamed all night about my ex-husband. He was in prison, and he got out sometime last year (I saw his picture on his daughter's facebook page). I feel of two minds about that--hooray for him!! and Crap, what if he's mad at me? I left him in 1996 when it became clear that he wouldn't be getting out any time soon, and yeah, I'd met someone else by then. I hung in for eight years, visiting him in the joint, but he told me two whopping big lies that related to who he really was and how much time he would probably do....and I made a better choice for me--to live life outside of prison and a husband who lived there. And I think it was the right choice. But I still love him. I hope he finds happiness. It's hard for me not to reach out to him, but it's such a bad idea on so many levels. Bad. Idea.
Picking up the pieces of my shit day and moving on. But I'm so upset I'm shaking a little bit.
Gah.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Tired, Sleepy, Tired, WTF?
Wow, I just deleted my first spam comment. Heh.
I'm tired. I mean...sleepy can't stay awake tired.
I just feel exhausted, energyless, pooped, wiped, laid out.
I don't know why, but it's starting to scare me a bit. I've slept the greater part of the last 36 hours.
I accept that I am depressed, and maybe more depressed than I accept, but the sleeping seems to be more about something going on in my body.
I'm taking all my medications, I'm watching what I eat, I'm not exercising because, well, I'm TIRED, but maybe it would help? I don't know. When it takes me 3 hours to screw up the energy or fortitude to go out and get the mail? That's too much.
I have insurance, maybe I should just go to the doctor? I'm going monthly at this rate.
I'm hungry, have been hungry since 5:30pm, but I haven't gotten up to fix something.Oy.
I'm tired. I mean...sleepy can't stay awake tired.
I just feel exhausted, energyless, pooped, wiped, laid out.
I don't know why, but it's starting to scare me a bit. I've slept the greater part of the last 36 hours.
I accept that I am depressed, and maybe more depressed than I accept, but the sleeping seems to be more about something going on in my body.
I'm taking all my medications, I'm watching what I eat, I'm not exercising because, well, I'm TIRED, but maybe it would help? I don't know. When it takes me 3 hours to screw up the energy or fortitude to go out and get the mail? That's too much.
I have insurance, maybe I should just go to the doctor? I'm going monthly at this rate.
I'm hungry, have been hungry since 5:30pm, but I haven't gotten up to fix something.Oy.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Money=Control
I had a wild thought cross my mind this evening--What would I do if a few thousand dollars suddenly showed up in my life?
My first thought, my very first thought--I'm not kidding--was to...
1. Hire packers and movers to pack my shit and get me out of here before the weekend
2. Go to my favorite town and rent a little house
3. Leave a note and the crappy couch.
I was euphoric...for about a minute.
Magical thinking is sometimes hurtful, but it can also produce the truth.
I know it did in this case.
Pity and guilt is nothing to base a marriage on.
My first thought, my very first thought--I'm not kidding--was to...
1. Hire packers and movers to pack my shit and get me out of here before the weekend
2. Go to my favorite town and rent a little house
3. Leave a note and the crappy couch.
I was euphoric...for about a minute.
Magical thinking is sometimes hurtful, but it can also produce the truth.
I know it did in this case.
Pity and guilt is nothing to base a marriage on.
A Confession
I've wanted to tell this to someone for a long, long time, but eventually boxed it up, crated it, and stored it in the corner of my mind that does not think about those things.
When I got married a little over six years ago, I told my soon-to-be husband to put aside about $600-$800 to pay for the reception site. We got a deal on it because a friend of ours was a member of the location. He was then working in Los Angeles, working 80 hours a week or more, making about $3,000- a week, after taxes. Too bad it was a temp position.
At any rate, the day of the wedding came, we married, we partied and ate cake, and when it was time to go, the venue manager wanted a check. Well, the last thing I remembered to do before I left for our wedding some nine hours earlier was put a check in my bra or my wedding purse. I told her I would get one to her in the morning. Our generous neighbors offered to drop it off for us, so they followed us home, took the check, and dropped it for us the next day.
My husband freaked out when he saw the bill, just over $600-. Why? He didn't put the money aside. Indeed, he barely had enough to cover the cost of our wedding night hotel, which was about $200-. Why didn't he put the money aside? I don't know. The more I get to know him, the less I understand him.
We received about $600- in wedding cash and checks. I went through all the cards at our hotel when my new husband left me in our hotel suite to track down his cell phone.
I had to deposit that money the very next day so my check for the wedding venue wouldn't bounce. I was so embarrassed. I didn't even tell my MIL who I was very close to at the time.
And we didn't have a honeymoon--he had to get on a plane the next evening to go back to work.
I should have ran then and there, far far away, but I didn't. And I regret it.
When I got married a little over six years ago, I told my soon-to-be husband to put aside about $600-$800 to pay for the reception site. We got a deal on it because a friend of ours was a member of the location. He was then working in Los Angeles, working 80 hours a week or more, making about $3,000- a week, after taxes. Too bad it was a temp position.
At any rate, the day of the wedding came, we married, we partied and ate cake, and when it was time to go, the venue manager wanted a check. Well, the last thing I remembered to do before I left for our wedding some nine hours earlier was put a check in my bra or my wedding purse. I told her I would get one to her in the morning. Our generous neighbors offered to drop it off for us, so they followed us home, took the check, and dropped it for us the next day.
My husband freaked out when he saw the bill, just over $600-. Why? He didn't put the money aside. Indeed, he barely had enough to cover the cost of our wedding night hotel, which was about $200-. Why didn't he put the money aside? I don't know. The more I get to know him, the less I understand him.
We received about $600- in wedding cash and checks. I went through all the cards at our hotel when my new husband left me in our hotel suite to track down his cell phone.
I had to deposit that money the very next day so my check for the wedding venue wouldn't bounce. I was so embarrassed. I didn't even tell my MIL who I was very close to at the time.
And we didn't have a honeymoon--he had to get on a plane the next evening to go back to work.
I should have ran then and there, far far away, but I didn't. And I regret it.
Weekend Arguing
My husband spent the weekend ranting and raving about money, and essentially made me feel like an albatross around his neck. That made me very angry. It was just non-stop bellyaching about all the bills--did I bitch like this when I was working and he wasn't? No, no I did not. I have a job, technically, but payment is a little slow in coming because I'm freelancing. And he's pissed he's stuck with all the bills--even though, evidently, we overspent this month by taking a short trip to visit his parents in California. The trip was his idea.
Why do I expect a college graduate to keep track of his finances? I keep forgetting that "this" guy, doesn't operate like regular people.
Sunday morning he got up and hollered from the bathroom, "why don't you brush your teeth?" Code for "Let's have sex."
I hollered back, "Why?"
There was no comment after that.
He got back in bed, curled up next to me and said, "If the answer is no, just tell me no."
And I thought about it and then I said, from my heart, "It's very hard for me to find fondness for you in my heart when you make me feel like this huge burden around your neck."
And then he starting in with the whining and complaining again.
Really, really, really tired of that.
Then he rolled over the other way, and I could hear him crying. It's a horrible thing to hear a grown man cry and think you're the cause of it, even though it's his behavior that is coming back to slap him in the face. He cannot make the connection between his behavior and my reaction to it.
This guy can't even go to the grocery store on his own. He follows me around like a dog. I quit sending him on errands to pick up stuff because he can never find it. I walk over and there it is--he doesn't look or see or something. So he follows behind me like a toddler while I shop. Then we come home and I cook him five lunches and four dinners for his job out of town. He can't cook, and there is nowhere for him to eat where he works, so we've got this down to a science. But I resent it. He treats me like I'm some money-sucking pain in the ass, and yet he can't really function without me.
It's just a dysfunctional relationship all the way around. I hate it.
Why do I expect a college graduate to keep track of his finances? I keep forgetting that "this" guy, doesn't operate like regular people.
Sunday morning he got up and hollered from the bathroom, "why don't you brush your teeth?" Code for "Let's have sex."
I hollered back, "Why?"
There was no comment after that.
He got back in bed, curled up next to me and said, "If the answer is no, just tell me no."
And I thought about it and then I said, from my heart, "It's very hard for me to find fondness for you in my heart when you make me feel like this huge burden around your neck."
And then he starting in with the whining and complaining again.
Really, really, really tired of that.
Then he rolled over the other way, and I could hear him crying. It's a horrible thing to hear a grown man cry and think you're the cause of it, even though it's his behavior that is coming back to slap him in the face. He cannot make the connection between his behavior and my reaction to it.
This guy can't even go to the grocery store on his own. He follows me around like a dog. I quit sending him on errands to pick up stuff because he can never find it. I walk over and there it is--he doesn't look or see or something. So he follows behind me like a toddler while I shop. Then we come home and I cook him five lunches and four dinners for his job out of town. He can't cook, and there is nowhere for him to eat where he works, so we've got this down to a science. But I resent it. He treats me like I'm some money-sucking pain in the ass, and yet he can't really function without me.
It's just a dysfunctional relationship all the way around. I hate it.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Almost
I almost sat my husband down and told him--I'm out of here as soon as I get some money.
Almost.
Now I just want to strangle him. Can I?
Almost.
Now I just want to strangle him. Can I?
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Guess What?
when I mentioned in the last post that it was "like she didn't even read my emails?" I was right! She hasn't been reading my emails and thus the communication problem. She went ahead and greenlighted my use of "stopleak," so I'm going to move ahead with the project. $85- an hour for installation. That's what I'm talking about, baby. ;-)
Well, once the client signs their contract. She may balk. We'll see. I hate to do any work without a signed contract, but I am learning/remembering more
So there's that.
Want to hear a secret? I haven't had a shower since Saturday. I'm still in my jammies from two days ago. What? This blog is partially about my depression...and here it is! In all its glory!!
Well, once the client signs their contract. She may balk. We'll see. I hate to do any work without a signed contract, but I am learning/remembering more
So there's that.
Want to hear a secret? I haven't had a shower since Saturday. I'm still in my jammies from two days ago. What? This blog is partially about my depression...and here it is! In all its glory!!
Work
I have a job. A strange job. It allows me to work at home, keep my own hours, and work at my own pace. Of course, the longer I take, the longer it takes for me to get paid. I'd rather not say what my work is here.
I work for two owners of a business. One of the owners is older and has memory problems. Even worse than mine. She sends me things, says things to me, or responds to my emails as if she had not read my email at all. For example, let me try to re-create an email conversation we recently had:
Her: Do you mind washing, waxing, and cleaning the windows of the car, and vacuuming the interior for a new client?
Me: Not at all. I'm don't normally do the windows, but I'm fine doing it--I can do it.
Her: So can you change the spark plugs and swap out the transmission?
Me: Well, I could, but I've never done it before. Last time I worked on a transmission I just got some of that stopleak and that seemed to solve the problem fine.
Her: Oh, good, so then you can do it.
Me: I can, but I don't know what I'm doing. I can try the stopgap measure....
Her: No, that won't work, it has to be a new transmission to keep from slipping and lagging....
Me: I still don't know how to do that....
Her: I left some instructions for you (in our cloud files)
Me: (they're not there now what?)
WTF? It's like she doesn't read my emails at all.
????
Then I get an email from someone I've never met who is designing the paint job for the car, and they tell me that this boss will be swapping out the transmission. Huh. The same boss that keeps saying, "I thought you were doing it?" In response to my "Idon'tknowwhatthefuckI'mdoing."
ARGH.
I'm frustrated.
On a previous project, I submitted an invoice and a request for work on the customer's web site, and she writes the client "introducing herself," despite the fact that before I worked on his car, she had introduced him to me, she had vetted him has a client, before offering me the project. She forgot. And I was embarrassed for her. I told her, "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it, but you have met John and you introduced him to me...."
It's weird.
I work for two owners of a business. One of the owners is older and has memory problems. Even worse than mine. She sends me things, says things to me, or responds to my emails as if she had not read my email at all. For example, let me try to re-create an email conversation we recently had:
Her: Do you mind washing, waxing, and cleaning the windows of the car, and vacuuming the interior for a new client?
Me: Not at all. I'm don't normally do the windows, but I'm fine doing it--I can do it.
Her: So can you change the spark plugs and swap out the transmission?
Me: Well, I could, but I've never done it before. Last time I worked on a transmission I just got some of that stopleak and that seemed to solve the problem fine.
Her: Oh, good, so then you can do it.
Me: I can, but I don't know what I'm doing. I can try the stopgap measure....
Her: No, that won't work, it has to be a new transmission to keep from slipping and lagging....
Me: I still don't know how to do that....
Her: I left some instructions for you (in our cloud files)
Me: (they're not there now what?)
WTF? It's like she doesn't read my emails at all.
????
Then I get an email from someone I've never met who is designing the paint job for the car, and they tell me that this boss will be swapping out the transmission. Huh. The same boss that keeps saying, "I thought you were doing it?" In response to my "Idon'tknowwhatthefuckI'mdoing."
ARGH.
I'm frustrated.
On a previous project, I submitted an invoice and a request for work on the customer's web site, and she writes the client "introducing herself," despite the fact that before I worked on his car, she had introduced him to me, she had vetted him has a client, before offering me the project. She forgot. And I was embarrassed for her. I told her, "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it, but you have met John and you introduced him to me...."
It's weird.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Successful People
The first thing successful people do upon achieving that success, is shuck any excess baggage that might drag them down or back to where they were, whether that's monetarily, psychologically, spiritually, whatever.
I am in the process of being shucked.
I had a friend who I had a lot in common with. A LOT. And this friend recently achieved a large degree of professional success. We also had a disagreement, the first and only one, over something stupid, and now this person is going out of their way to make sure I know how wrong they think I am. And no longer important in their life.
And it hurts.
Oh it's nothing done directly; it's all passive aggressive on their blog. Plausible deniability and so on. "Oh, I wasn't directing that at you...." Uh-huh. I hate passive/aggressive people. So petty and small.
I miss my friend. But I don't think they'll be coming back. And that's too bad.
And my husband? Why do I have this urge to pack a suitcase and run, far far away every time I spend any amount of time with him in a domestic setting?
How did women get away from their husband's in the past when they had no income of their own? Can a divorce attorney force him to keep paying the bills where I/we live? I don't know what to do. I want out. I must, for my sanity.
Or I'm going to swallow some pills with some good wine.
I am in the process of being shucked.
I had a friend who I had a lot in common with. A LOT. And this friend recently achieved a large degree of professional success. We also had a disagreement, the first and only one, over something stupid, and now this person is going out of their way to make sure I know how wrong they think I am. And no longer important in their life.
And it hurts.
Oh it's nothing done directly; it's all passive aggressive on their blog. Plausible deniability and so on. "Oh, I wasn't directing that at you...." Uh-huh. I hate passive/aggressive people. So petty and small.
I miss my friend. But I don't think they'll be coming back. And that's too bad.
And my husband? Why do I have this urge to pack a suitcase and run, far far away every time I spend any amount of time with him in a domestic setting?
How did women get away from their husband's in the past when they had no income of their own? Can a divorce attorney force him to keep paying the bills where I/we live? I don't know what to do. I want out. I must, for my sanity.
Or I'm going to swallow some pills with some good wine.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Who'd a Thought?
After years of pleading, begging, threatening, and whining, along with a sparkling new insurance plan, my husband finally went to therapy. The therapist recommended medication for help. I had given some of my anti-anxiety medication to him to help with his work-related anxiety. He said it worked so well he finally called our MD for an appointment. So now he's on the same anti-anxiety medication I am, albeit a lower dose, and an anti-depressant.
What a difference.
It's taken a few months to really notice the difference, but he's definitely changing. We went on a short vacation (4 days) recently, and as I hung my head out the window, tongue flapping in the wind like a dog goin' for a ride, I remembered why I married my husband: He drags me out of my hermit-like existence, tendency to stay inside, alone, and pulls me out of my comfort zone. And I had fun, a lot of fun this holiday. And I remembered that we used to have lot's of fun like this when we first met, and that (along with those thighs, my god, and his ass? fuggetabout it altho they're heading toward flab, now), I always had fun and did things that I would never do on my own, or would more importantly, I would (am) be afraid to do on my own.
Also: He cleaned his bathroom. Yes, I know! He asked if I would supervise, so I did, sitting on the toilet. If I tried to help, he told me to stop: it was his mess. So I gave directions. It took two hours. No, I am not kidding--it was that filthy. It took four scrubs and two different kinds of cleaner to get the fucking bathtub clean--the bottom was dark gray. Even the inside of the medicine cabinet was wiped down. Amazing.
He put away his laundry, four baskets of which had been on his side of the bed for months.
He bought me a Christmas gift. OK, I sat in the car while he went in to buy it and he came back out and handed me the bag, but it was something I had really wanted. I don't remember the last time he bought me something that wasn't food or a refrigerator magnet (I collect them when I travel).
He took a bunch of books (five paper grocery bags and one plastic kitchen trash bag) to the car to be taken to the SPCA.
His job is not longer freaking him out.
He complimented me on my cooking, more than once. !!!
I know, right? It's like a different person has moved in with me.
Isn't it funny that once you give up the burden of hope, how things can change for the better? I was thinking of ways for us to live apart, maybe even end our relationship, but he's finally gotten the help he's needed, and the things I've been hammering away at him about are things he's paying attention to.
"Et me fer a 'tater" as one of my favorite book characters would say (Jan Karon's Mitford series).
So now I'm going to wait and watch. We'll see how it goes.
What a difference.
It's taken a few months to really notice the difference, but he's definitely changing. We went on a short vacation (4 days) recently, and as I hung my head out the window, tongue flapping in the wind like a dog goin' for a ride, I remembered why I married my husband: He drags me out of my hermit-like existence, tendency to stay inside, alone, and pulls me out of my comfort zone. And I had fun, a lot of fun this holiday. And I remembered that we used to have lot's of fun like this when we first met, and that (along with those thighs, my god, and his ass? fuggetabout it altho they're heading toward flab, now), I always had fun and did things that I would never do on my own, or would more importantly, I would (am) be afraid to do on my own.
Also: He cleaned his bathroom. Yes, I know! He asked if I would supervise, so I did, sitting on the toilet. If I tried to help, he told me to stop: it was his mess. So I gave directions. It took two hours. No, I am not kidding--it was that filthy. It took four scrubs and two different kinds of cleaner to get the fucking bathtub clean--the bottom was dark gray. Even the inside of the medicine cabinet was wiped down. Amazing.
He put away his laundry, four baskets of which had been on his side of the bed for months.
He bought me a Christmas gift. OK, I sat in the car while he went in to buy it and he came back out and handed me the bag, but it was something I had really wanted. I don't remember the last time he bought me something that wasn't food or a refrigerator magnet (I collect them when I travel).
He took a bunch of books (five paper grocery bags and one plastic kitchen trash bag) to the car to be taken to the SPCA.
His job is not longer freaking him out.
He complimented me on my cooking, more than once. !!!
I know, right? It's like a different person has moved in with me.
Isn't it funny that once you give up the burden of hope, how things can change for the better? I was thinking of ways for us to live apart, maybe even end our relationship, but he's finally gotten the help he's needed, and the things I've been hammering away at him about are things he's paying attention to.
"Et me fer a 'tater" as one of my favorite book characters would say (Jan Karon's Mitford series).
So now I'm going to wait and watch. We'll see how it goes.
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