Isn't this blog supposed to be cathartic? I tend to fear posting too much or specifics for fear that the wrong person will read it. Look back at my veiled references to my husband's and daughter's names and other places where I thought I could be crafty and write around them. At some point I became positive and free enough to just say it, and suddenly spouse and daughter earned names (applause here). Yet this morning, I am once again slogging through the truth in fear. Stupid.
Now last week I ended rather abruptly with the ridiculous email, texting, smsing, phone calls of my boss for a situation I could do nothing about - the power went out in the building due to the heat wave. I had barely gotten the car unloaded when he expected me to sprint the almost 20 miles to the office to stand guard (perhaps) since our magnetic locks disengaged from the power outage - security issue. Now after my frantic calls to our IT department, landlord, and facilities resulted in a ton of left messages with no response, I continued to back and forth with my boss and tried to boot up my lazy laptop to start sending out emails. After only an hour the power came back on and the return calls started coming in. He wanted explainations and resolutions and he wanted them now. Really? So for 3.5 hours after I pulled curbside to my home while still technically on vacation I worked in a panic state enforced by my check writer.
Now before I was able to enjoy the last few hours of vacation before bed I realized that my hubby didn't think to pick up milk or fruit or anything prior to our arrival home. I know I'm woman hear me roar, but really a thought like that shouldn't be rocket science. At some point I need to be able to rely on my spouse to think. So out I go to the market for some quick items before I put the baby to bed. On my way I was almost hit by 2 cars...1 making a left into me and the second running a stop sign (insert explitives here). Home again, unpacked groceries, happy milk-belly baby, car unloaded and unpacked, baby to bed and ahhh I get a half hour before I should hit the sack. I sat staring at whatever hubby had on the TV. I have no idea what it was or if I even enjoyed it. At 11 I could no longer avoid the trek upstairs, with a heave and a sigh I slugged off. 5 steps into my journey hubby decides to make an announcement.
"So, my Zoloft isn't working anymore so I'm going to take myself off of it. I'm getting withdrawl symptoms from it not working anymore. Just thought I'd let you know." WTF! "Are you mad?! No way are you 1st of all weening yourself off without a doctor's approval and supervison. And secondly I will not put myself or our daughter through that. Get that out of your head. You need meds or I'm not doing this. Who do you think you are?" I later investigated if it's possible to experience withdrawl symptoms when the drugs stop working...and could find nothing to support that...only a decrease in mg intake would cause withdrawl. So he's lying too? Does he take me for a fool? Why would he put his daughter at risk or his family for that matter? He needs an effing doctor. And for all the years that I've known him he has come up with some excuse to stop seeing any therapist who attemps to regulate him.
I don't know if he is still weening himself without a doctor or if he decided against it after our debate. But I can say that he has become mean, thoughless, aggressive and a little manic. So either he needs his meds upped, changed, or stop being stupid. Whatever the case my be, I'm too tired. Yesterday he left something dangerous open and out within child's reach in the bathroom. As I was filling her tub I turned to find she had it in her mouth. A quick call to poison control basically assumed that I caught her in time and she most likely just licked the top and not tiped it back to drink at that point. I sent hubby a text to be more careful. After all he was also the one who left the Fabreeze out on the coffee table and walked away from her while she unscrewed it and dumped it all over herself and the table. Thankfully a thea was over and caught her before that was drank as well. Use a brain cell please.
So last night at 12:30 when he arrived home from work, when both me and baby were soundly sleeping, a rarity for sure, he woke me up to say, "is she ok?" Half asleep I'm like, "what?" "Is she ok? and now my tracker is ruined because you didn't put the roof or windows back on for me." Awake now I reply, "she is fine obviously because we are both sleeping, and no I didn't ruin your car you did when you left it open during the monsoon on Saturday and again today. Sorry I couldn't get outside before the storm after you left for work, knowing it was supposed to rain, and I was on the phone with morgage people and student loan people until Anya woke up from her nap. Thanks for waking me and the baby up you ass." I went off to pee and tried to sleep in the other room. My mind was racing. I then tried to go down to the couch. Still not possible. Our lonely cat started crying incessantly and my mind was just trying to kill me. I crawled back into bed and snuggled my lil squeak, hoping to fall asleep...it took 3 hours.
I'm so tired today and angry and confused. I was listening to MMR's Preston and Steve on my way in to work. The 2 day topic of conversation has been Mel Gibson's abusive, beligerent tirade. He is a mean ignorant bastard...good thing I never liked him or I'd be real depressed. And for a few minutes I think I don't have it so bad and why can't we just work through it. Then the other part of me says that I deserve to be treated with respect, something which has been lacking in our realtionship for 2 years. My gut tells me I'm being taken advantage of: I can multitask, work multiple jobs, run on little sleep, and think like a machine...something he cannot. But he doesn't even try. I've carried him so long that he doesn't realize he's gone soft with entitlement: very unattractive and pitiable.
My parents didn't raise a dummy or a fool. Sure I'm strong and resilient and focused, but that doesn't make me the pinyata or whatever symbolic object of abuse you choose for imagry. What happened to you? All those stories you told me of your past make sense to me now and take on new meaning. You played my sympathies like the Red Violin. Look at yourself for a change. You're a parent, a husband, a homeowner, a friend, yet you behave like the world owes you for the sake of oweing. You think you're a clown and a beautiful person, but wonder why no one comes calling. You've grown ugly and mean with your ego. What lesson is that for your daughter. You aspired for nothing, you sat and expected the world to fall into place like magic, and along I came.
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