Posts Tagged ‘I might puke’

People can be stupid. Really stupid. Blank stare.

If one reads the blog one already knows and need not ask. If one doesn’t? Too bad, too sad.

I don’t have to justify myself to everyone in my world bubble. Really, I don’t and hence forth will not do so.

Persons I’ve talked with over the course of the year are having brain farts. “What happened again?” “Exactly what was the problem?”

I don’t carry a concordance of my life in my hip pocket. Chances are good you were never told everything or very little, cuz frankly it’s not something I speak about with everyone.

This isn’t a make the husband a monster contest, where I come off as the damsel in distress. Shivers at the thought. Yes, I would (at times) like to be saved, but it’s an idol wish and nothing more.

Here’s the deal. I don’t carry my woes into my day’ scattered across a chain linked to my ankle for everyone to see. Have the past few months been extremely difficult? Yes. The difficulty level is lower and these things don’t occupy my every waking moment. Even when they did, I sure wasn’t going to spew my unhappiness on everyone in my path.

Most days are very pleasant. I laugh and smile because life is too short to feel sorry for myself, or to cultivate resentments which only serve to make me miserable.

Maybe this trait is how I get fingered for being stronger than I am. If it looks like a duck theory of thinking. She looks happy, therefore she must be happy[all the time]. Em, that would be a negative Ghost Rider.  I’m not the type of person who easily shows emotion on my sleeve.

I operate under the premise that very few people want to ‘really’ know how I am.  Not only do most of them not care (try answering lousy every once and a while or better). Are they horrible persons of little regard? Absolutely not. They are a loving child of God doing the level best they know how with what they have, just like the rest of us.  It’s not my place to make people uncomfortable with too much information, so I don’t.

When you are in the circle who is confided in, you are expected to keep up. Really. I don’t want to list my crappy events so that you will understand anything, only in context. This is one of the things my husband did that got on my last nerve. When I love someone, I remember things which are important to them. If you’ve had a rough time of it, allowances will be made.

From the gate this wasn’t about bashing my husband. I’ve been fairly faithful to this promise. One does have transgressions and moments of insanity during times of great stress.

I don’t want anyone to hate him, think badly of him or not be his friend. This is an ‘us’ thing. He and I aren’t functioning well as a couple. (Big news flash I know. grin)  So, if you’ve forgotten why I left, tough. It really isn’t any of your business anyway. When my friend is having marital problems I don’t want the down and dirty.. just to soothe the hurt feelings as best I know how. It is understood that I don’t have a chance of figuring out the ins and outs nor honestly do I want to get tangled up in it. My friend needs support; support is given. No stupid questions. Maybe a gentle reminder to be kind no matter how angry, because that creates stuff to clean up later.

I don’t suppose this will be my last rant about this. People are curious by nature. People need to be on the ‘correct’ side, whatever that is for them. Sorry folks, no recaps, no reasons, explanations or excuses. If you fell out of the loop, too bad. I’m done tilling up the past for you.


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I didn’t end up in an apartment by myself on a wild hair. It wasn’t impulsive. I’m sorry it feels that way for him.

My husband came over this evening. He’s being clingy again. groan

Worse? He spent the better part of an hour trying to get me to ‘understand’ why he didn’t drop everything and come to me when my mother died, last May.  It’s as if he thinks if I could see things from his point of view it wouldn’t be so painful. Em, let me think; no.

I was with my mother when she died. I cannot express how grateful I am to have been able to be with her in those final days. What I couldn’t have predicted was my husband’s reaction when I called to tell him. He went on a tear about how work was crazy. He had the pager. It was a long drive and he didn’t know if he was coming. Excuse me? Are you kidding me?

His sister was called and she spoke with him. After speaking with his sister he decided he could make the trip to bring me home. Why thank you. How thoughtful. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. Our conversation this evening brought back the pain involved.

To recap; my mother dies, he doesn’t know if he can get away from work to bring me home or be with me. I’m supposed to understand how much stress he was under?

He has two brothers and a sister. When his mother died he didn’t have to worry about any of the details. They took care of it as a family. I have one brother, who cannot be depended upon. An 89 year old father to support while making all of the arrangements for not just my mother’s funeral, but my father’s as well. Why? Because dad asked me to. One does not say no to a devastated man who had just lost the love of his life. They were two days short of being married 68 years. They met when dad was 15 and mom was 12.

My cousin helped me, god bless her. Other than her, I had no support. None, nothing and my husband goes flaky on me. Really?  My brother’s daughters needed my support. Of course I was there for them. All I wanted was my husband, and I had to fight to get him to come. When he did get there he was emotionally distant and wrapped up in how it made him feel. Gee I can’t imagine why I was hurt beyond belief.

Now 10 months later he’s trying to get me to ‘understand’. Gawd this seems hopeless.

He reports in his present distress the house is a mess and I’m not to go, cuz he’s going to fix it. And I’m supposed to believe this?

A step forward and four back. I see a three month lease in my immediate future.

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I’ve been gathering up some things this morning and I was struck at how easy it’s been to pull out what’s important and abandon the rest. It goes with what I’ve said for years. Stuff is nice. I like my stuff. In the end it’s just stuff and stuff comes and goes.

There are things I’m leaving because I have no place for them. There are clothes I can’t wear this time of year. As I look around I realize how little much of it means to me. It used to, but somehow without a solid relationship it really doesn’t seem to matter.

I’ve got bills to pay and clothes to pack. The computer will be the last thing into the car, so I can find a nice secure spot for it among my meager belongings, mostly clothes and must have my pillows.

I’m oddly calm about all of this and have been since shortly after the decision was made. Facing something and actually doing it are so different. Indecision is the painful space of life. This isn’t a rash decision. Lord knows it’s over due, I just couldn’t take that step. One more chance. One more this or that. Yeah, well sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t.

At this point I’m wondering how long I’ll be gone. A month, three or more? We’ll just have to see how it goes.

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I was speaking with a dear friend this morning and she pointed out the reason I was having so much trouble recommitting is because my husband broke one of the deal breaker rules, I established a very long time ago.

1. Don’t hit me. It will be the last time you see me.

2. Don’t lie to me. Three strikes you’re out.

3. Don’t cheat on me. I don’t share.

He’s lied, at least three times over stupid things because he didn’t want to deal with me.

Unconventional as it was, he cheated. And that’s a rock I can’t make myself climb over.

My next day off is Tuesday. I’ve made arrangements to stay in a place close to work. It’s designed for long term stays for Executives, Doctors, Nurses, so on. No need for me to fumble around looking for or packing housewares, they’re there. All I need bring is me, my clothes, food, my precious pet, Maggie and my computer, can’t forget that.

My sternum  feels cracked in half. And I’m crying again dammit.

I know this is what needs to happen, if there’s to be any sort of a change for us, me. I need to be somewhere to heal and take care of just me. I can’t do that here. So why does it hurt so fracking bad?  How is it the right thing to do is rarely the easy thing?

Someone please take the axe out of my chest.

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Me with nothing to do is an egregious situation. I’d so be laying tile or painting if the supplies were here. Why? It’s what I do when I’m feeling uncertain or insecure. GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO!

The first three days of this week, I had things to do. I was a happy camper. This morning? The weather sucks, ruling out even a stroll to assess winter damage to the roses. That and they are under 18 inches of new snow. blank stare.

So I’m house bound, with nothing to do. We are not amused. Worse, I’ve got the nerves of a cornered rabbit. Things continue to improve with my husband. The testosterone  treatments seem to be helping his physical well being which in turn is making him happier. It does my heart good to see him confident and happy.

And then it threatens to break it. I’m flat out terrified. We’ve been through reprieves before, many over the last ten years. I don’t know if I’m up to another pull back. As such, I’m holding back waiting to see if there will be an all clear sign.

I know marriage is work. He and I have been doing this dance in one capacity or another for a very long time. Never as bad as the last shut down, but there were mini ones over the course of our marriage. He always apologizes, promises to stay on top of it. He’ll listen to me this next time. Em, Right.

What happens? Excuses rule his world. Any comments from me are shot down as mean spirited. Cuz, I’m such a raging bitch. Save me.

I’m trying to come off a hair trigger, relax, and it is a tall order. I knew I was hurt, the extent is becoming clear.

I’m annoyed with me for putting up with it for so long that has brought me to this place. I’m angry at him for not listening.

What if we fail again? They might well have to check me into a facility for a ‘rest’.

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For years, yes I said years, I’ve been prodding my husband to have his testosterone levels checked. About six months ago he told me they were checked and fine. Wing brow. I found this difficult to believe, but okay.

Turns out he didn’t have them checked. His story now is that he thought I was asking about his thyroid. blank stare. Em, right. Anyway he finally did have them checked last week and in an earth shattering news flash his T levels are about half of what they should be for a man of his age. He wanted to make this into an end of the world scenario. I, being the cold woman that I am, refused to go there.

He’s on replacement therapy and feeling better. Gee imagine. Shake my head.

As this is all unfolding (I’m sure he’s sure this was the entire problem and things should be fixed now.) I’ve been busy with training, chiropractic, dental appointments and a check in with my counselor.  Yep, I have a counselor of my very own. Perfect isn’t me. Aspiring? Yes.

Toward the end of the session I expressed concern that perhaps one of my depression medications was too high, because I’ve been feeling anxious. This particular one does that if I take too much. To which the counselor says, “I think that’s fine. We should get you on an anti-anxiety med.”

Being the smart ass that I am, I replied, “Valium is good.”

Much to my surprise she starts writing a script. My eyes get big and I sputter, “A very small dose, please.”  I know what this stuff does and I’m not willing to zone, as appealing as it sounds some days. No zoning, zombifying or otherwise numbing me. I’m on the smallest dose made, and am thinking I should half them.  A light weight? Me? For this stuff, yes.

I’m annoyed to find myself in the position to need medication for something so simple as relaxing. My counselor laid out what she saw as the cause.

My mother passed seven months ago.

The marriage has been in a flooded ditch for over a year.

Our adult children and their children lived with us for a short period. (Not their fault, just more stressful than I thought it would be.)

And I’m in intensive training for a new career.

Okay, put that way it doesn’t seem so unreasonable. I am one person. One person can only take so much. All I can say is thank the universe for good friends, without whom I would surely be in a nut ward somewhere, talking to myself and avoiding all human contact.

Instead, I’m remembering to take care of myself in the midst of everything. My woman stuff is good until June. I have three fillings which will be done by the end of the month. There are refills for my daily meds, so I won’t be running out. My chiropractic is getting my back into order after being on crutches and a boot for months. I ♡ my chiropractor.

Everything is in order for my practical training, starting tomorrow. No last minute chaos or drama in that corner. In as much I have nothing to do today except rest and take care of this cold or allergy thing that’s going on with me. A bit of quiet? Quiet is good.

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I thought I saw a ray of sun, perhaps, maybe, gasp, hope the other night. Nope, it was a train. Again.

I was studying tonight. (I got into the training I’d hoped to.) My husband perches himself on a chair next to me and intently stares in my direction. I smile, and continue to read. There’s lots of ground to cover and little time to do it, oh and I have to sleep. He doesn’t budge, nor does he say anything. pfft.

Not wanting to, but understanding if I didn’t he’d sit there for eternity, I asked him what he wanted.  He inquired after my work load, which he was interrupting. The expression on his face told me he wasn’t going anywhere, and nothing was going to get done until he had his say.

Me – Spill it. What’s going on?

Him – Can we talk?

Me – Am I going to end up crying?

Him – huh? expression. I don’t know.

‘Oh Great’ Me – What?

Here’s where he launches into how he’s not comfortable with the conversation we had about counseling. Uh, huh, and ?

He only agreed with me because he didn’t know what else to do. (bangs head on table in frustration) SSSSSoooooo, I go over it again, using small words and easy to understand phrases.  He tells me what he thought he heard before. Paraphrasing here, “It’s all my fault and you’re done trying.” Blank stare, this isn’t what I said at all, not even remotely close. I explain again, cuz I’ve got nothing better in the world to do than to make you feel better. groan

I’m getting very weary of being diplomatic. I really am. What I want to do is scream , of course it’s your fault! You checked out on me and then proceeded to have needs met outside of the marriage which should have been kept in bounds! Putz! Grow a pair and call me when you’ve got it figured out.  Dang. Scowl

At this stage it would be nice if I didn’t know him so well. It really would. My interpretation of the conversation? I’m afraid. I want you in counseling with me to help fix ME. Not us, Me. I don’t want to do it on my own. You need to share responsibility for my recovery.

Em, let me think about that for a moment. If it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck and poops like a duck – It’s a duck.

You’re sick. You want me to continue holding your sorry butt up because you don’t want to do the work to take care of it yourself. This is my problem how? Peels duck-person off of me and heads off to wash.

I’ve been taking care of myself, thank you very much. Let me repeat; you’re the putz, not me.

You will not be collapsing on me in any manner, emotionally, spiritually or physically. I CAN’T fix this mess, nor do I have inclination to do so.  He sounds like a ten-year old wanting his mother to make it better. Icky, not going there any more. He’s been coughing, wheezing and otherwise acting ill. I will not engage this behavior. Won’t do it.

At some point I will explode at him. He will be gravely injured by hearing the facts of the matter. How dare I be so blunt? Let me see, cuz tactful doesn’t work?  Gah!

Is being married to a man too much to ask? Apparently so. Shakes head.

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