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Posts Tagged ‘pissed.’

Life is still getting ahead of me, and I’m dealing with that. At some point I’ll catch up. For now it’s staying focused on what counts. When I was raising our children, I never lost sight of the ball nor did he. No two children had more dedicated parents, perhaps as dedicated but not more dedicated.

A week ago today I moved home as quietly as I left. I’m still not unpacked. My office is a mess, but the laundry is done. smile One has to take the little victories as they come. I’m still scattered on so many levels, it’s hard to look beyond my prime focus. Our marriage and my new career. The house won’t miss me for a bit longer. The garden? Well, that’s a never-ending time suck. When it blooms I remember why I pour so much energy into it. It’s not blooming at the moment.

We have counseling tomorrow. Money is the topic. This should prove interesting. In the last year I was willing to and did walk away from all of it. None of it meant anything without my husband. He’s the focus or should I say ‘us’. Our children are raised, now it’s time to create the life we want for us and the means to properly fund it.  Us, what a wonderful concept; warm and fuzzy, as it should be.

What I want is for the sensitivity to dissipate. The world is still so threatening in my current state. New beginnings are  normally unsteady places. I’ve been through one or two of them. This will pass, I don’t have to like feeling emotionally naked in the meantime.  I’m exposing myself at home, in the firm hope our marriage is on a new, better path.

On the work front, I’m working in a completely new field at a new place with dynamics I haven’t riddled out just yet. People, in general, perplex me. I’m not going to spend a lot of energy beyond what I need to know to move through the space in an efficient  manner.

Things I’ve observed along the journey of work places. There is always a double agent. I’ve discovered her, and we’re as good as we’re going to get. Busy bees, there are many of these. You know the ones who are sure no one works as hard as they do. Therefore no one else is as competent making everyone subject to contempt as seen necessary. More importantly, I found the rock. Rally around the rock and your world is less likely to tip. I got a jolt this week and I have little doubt, the rock, is a big reason why there were no after shocks.

Wish I could find a rock in my personal life. It would seem my rocks have aged and now need support themselves. My only hope is to lean on my husband. This is a leap of faith so huge, words fail me completely. The risk I took walking out is nothing compared to learning to depend on him again, and that is what I’m doing. Slowly, cautiously, creeping forward, it looks good folks, real good. Better than I had any right to hope for, and that’s hell-a-scary. It still beats the pants off of hopeless, so I’ll take it.

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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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So it would seem my bringing up our counseling in a very noisy, busy, restaurant rattled him more than I thought. Honestly I think it’s the counselor I mentioned more than the place, but anyway. This counselor knows both of us. Gasp, someone who could call his nonsense!

We went out to dinner with friends and had a very nice time. Or so I thought. I’m bopping around doing what I do and I find him in the dining room. In the dark. Okay. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright then,” and I go on about my business. This whole drama king thing is on my last nerve.

Twenty minutes later. I’m in the kitchen. He comes in and sits on a bar stool, staring at me expectantly. Really? So I ask, “What?”

He doesn’t answer. I’m close to glaring now. “Dump it. What’s up?”

We are back to how ‘he’ feels. What ‘he’ expects. What ‘he’ heard me say. (which wasn’t even remotely close to what I meant.)

I commence to do my level best to explain my position. He doesn’t get it. I start to cry. Okay, I was sobbing. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. See this is why we need counseling, I don’t seem to speak his language.

His response? He wants to comfort me as I comfort him? huh? This is just so twisted.

I finally stopped crying and tried to escape him outside for fresh air. He follows me. Big surprise. He’s still talking. I’m sort of listening and wondering who called me while I was bawling my head off. As I head into the house I pull my cell from my pocket and connect to voice mail.

OH! He’s not done talking. le groan. He’s upset at how rude I am. Fine. I called back my friend, answered her question and then faced him. Because the world revolves around him. I explained I thought he was done and I wondered who had called. He forgave me and turned toward the sink, saying, “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

Oh really? I went upstairs. If I’d opened my mouth I’d have never gotten to bed, and I had an appointment in the morning. He’s issuing me orders now? I $#@!@*& don’t think so.  I ruminated yesterday. The answer? I need to live with myself for a while. I checked out extended stay places. No, don’t go to the hourly dives with a ‘hot tub’ in every room. Shivers. Ick. No, there are executive suites for extended stays. Mostly business trips, but it works for my purpose too.

I’ll be scoping them out after work tomorrow. Gah! I didn’t want it to come to this.

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Which is not necessarily a good thing. I’ve been out of training for a week. More time to be at home and with my family.

The first couple of days were a wild catch up with life affair. Our daughter is getting married later this year. We finally went wedding dress shopping. Hand to heart; my baby. We found the perfect dress for her. Price? We won’t go there. It was more than I had thought to spend, but in the overall bridal scene, we did very well. The look on her face when she tried it on? OMG! Mama almost cried. Her dad most certainly would have.

The effects of low testosterone become more and more clear. It is nice to see him with more energy. His muscle mass is increasing as are other youthful tendencies.  So I’m complaining? Well, no, not exactly.

In November I barely was a blip on his radar. Now? I’m sorta of squirming under all of the attention. The pendulum has gone to the other high and it’s just strange. Uncomfortable for me too.

For him, this is an awakening. Things were never bad. He always loved and desired me. “Honey, I’m HOME!”

For me, it rather like being thrust into the middle of a game I don’t know if I want to play yet. Having his attention is nice, very nice. And scary as hell. Let’s remember, we’ve been here three or four times in the proceeding ten years. Each time I’ve plugged my ears, sang ‘Lalalalala’ it’s all better now. Only to be brought up short with the next episode.

A year ago December I had an epiphany. We were in the kitchen. He was ranting about something, which was clearly his fault, as if it weren’t. He was angry because I didn’t agree with him. As I stood there, I thought, ‘How many times am I going to allow myself to be standing here?’

How many times am I going to endure this behavior for the fleeting good moments we have?

To present only two issues have been addressed. His lethargy and his lack of attention for me. It would be sooo easy to take what I’ve got and call it good for as long as it lasted. It really would. Being the adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been hurt enough to know the folly of going there.

This new him seems manic to me. Manic never lasts over the long haul. This is a marathon, not a sprint. So I still on guard.

We haven’t addressed the money issues. Nor has he addressed his personal worth issues. Both are equally important to me where the ongoing status of the marriage is concerned. They are a sticking point, I can’t ignore.

Last night he asked if he’d mentioned lately, what good care I take of him. When I said it had been a while (I don’t recall him ever mentioning it.) He told me that I took very good care of him. To which I answered, I know. haha.

He was a little put upon by this answer. I guess he was looking for some gushing, ‘You noticed! Thank you.’ Em, yeah, no.

There a few things of which I’m sure. The level of care for my family is one of them. It is point of pride for me to know my family is well cared for and know they are loved. No, it’s not a revelation to me on any level. Sorry dude. Keep up.

So we are still on the other side of the looking glass. I still feel unsteady and uncertain in the relationship and my status in the world.  Things could go either way. And as bad as I want to stay, I won’t if this doesn’t level out into real change.

Have I mentioned lately how much I don’t want to take care of myself? I don’t want to, dammit! Throws three year old temper tantrum. Ahem, sorry about that. It annoys me to be in this position at this stage of my life. So it goes. At least I’m not crying today. That’s something, isn’t it?

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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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