Dear Agony Self
Some days are just horrible
Date: 9/6/2012 4:49:07 PM ( 8 y ) ... viewed 1930 times
I woke up alone in bed and in tears this morning and had to remind myself that this is the Day the Lord Has Made and I will Be Glad and Rejoice in it. He obviously did another late night (early morning) and crashed on the couch. Not the Lord, My Husband. Sleeping together has become the exception to the rule. The other reason for my tears, obviously, is the pain medication having worn off.
I am still taking 17 droops each of Myrrh and Frankincense 3 times a day.
We have been fighting a lot these last 2 - 3 months. Nasty fights. Fights making me want to slash my wrists. Usually after a fight escalates to mutual verbal abuse and them him stonewalling me.
I know I am the spark that sets the explosion off, but how about this one:
On our way back from the doctor on our previous pre-operation visit, I asked if I could smoke a cigarette in the motorcar. He said it is OK (I never know, sometimes it does not bother him and sometimes he makes a right stink about it). So silly me lit the cigarette,
Now picture me in the passenger seat, all the way back with the backrest, as not to sit too upright to not flex my hip.Kick the dog when it is laying down. I could not open my window because it is a bit temperamental (broken)so he opened his window. Oh boy. He started shouting at me how selfish I am an how sick he is of me just thinking about myself by lighting a cigarette and blah blah blah. I threw out the cigarette (against the law of this city) and he still went on and on - I then stuck my fingers in my ears. and hummed a monotonous tune. I know. Pathetic like a child.
He likes screaming at me when we are stuck in a car. The same happened on our way to my parents. I was driving and I set him off and he started belittling me and calling me names and insulting me. Because I had the road to distract me, I could time 'the episode'. He went at is in a high pitched voice for more than thirty minutes. That is when I stopped the car and got out and walked into the night. (again, not very clever - it happened to be next to a prison in the middle of nowhere)
So, today I mentioned the washing that was tossed over the side of the washing machine - wet (has been wet in the machine for 2 days now) and o-my. After he stormed out here (gone for 4 hours) I went to apologise and he took the opportunity to stir the fight. I backed off and a couple of hours later again I went to apologise over my insensitive remark about the washing and he steamrollered me and said he refuses to have this conversation. When I asked him when can we have it he sneeringly said that we can have it Saturday morning 'all day long to your hearts content'
The winter of this marriage is killing me. And I think this thing with my hip is an external manifestation of the thing that is wrong in the dynamics of my life/marriage. One of the legs of our marriage is not working and now one of my legs are not working. My husband is the main breadwinner and I keep house. Maybe I have not been working properly. I am not a great housekeeper, I am childless, and I have no aspirations. A few years ago my husband told me that I had turned into the most boring person he knows. And that was me asking him for help to find a goal.
I find myself resenting him most of the time. Other times he can be quite amiable. And now that I am dependant on him - he had to help pee the other day - the cold of the winter has become unbearable. He does not touch me. He does not engage in conversation with me. He is irritated when I ask him for water/food/medication.
I really feel quite sorry for myself/angry/frustrated. If I could only switch to my frontal cortex and experience euphoria despite the situation. But the truth is I have been crying buckets these last two months. I suppose today had to happen since I had my first stool in a week - you know, painkillers (I suffered to get it out - awkward sitting-squatting-standing position and constipation does not go well together). So fresh week-old shit to hit the fan.
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