Archive | September 2011

Another day, another pile of bullshit.

Well, I opened my mouth and I’ll be damned if, now, it won’t close.

Conveniently, I blame the Valium. It gives you that euphoric, “I don’t give a damn” feeling at the most convenient of times. Take this weekend, for instance when I was being cursed out every other hour by my husband.
I would love to chronicle the story, but the shit is so bizarre that I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

I could start “here” I suppose:

First thing Saturday morning, husband told me that he “was” going to take the day off to be with me. Which sounds to me like he had thought about it but had changed his mind along the way. Okay. I called my mother to see what she was up to. She asked husband’s work schedule for the day and I gave it to her. Which he received as me forcing him to go to work. We were at breakfast at the time. Immediately, he wanted to go back home and go to bed and “rest up for work.” Fine… but I detected attitude. And knowing the extremely passive- aggressive man I’m married to, I let him.

For a while. You see, I don’t care to sleep my life away. I wanted to hit a yard sale or two. If he was hell bent on going to work, then he didn’t have to join me. BUT… I had this nagging feeling that if I did go yard sale-ing by myself then somehow in some way I would be accused of abandoning him and/or not taking advantage of what little time we had together. I voiced my concerns. He was his distant, defensive, denying self.

And…I hadn’t had my Valium. So, I cursed and cried.

And eventually, that exterior of his softened a bit. We went out for the day. I hit my yard sale and he got a haircut. We visited my mom and spent a little time with my stepson. We went to a softball game (which I DO NOT enjoy) but I did it in the name of love/family time.

Well… apparently an ex of mine was there. An ex so insignificant I can’t even describe but anyway. He spotted the man before I did. And this, apparently, was reason enough for him to cop an attitude and bring up a slew of old shit that had nothing to do with anything.

It was awful. So, awful in fact that I rode around town searching for the magistrate to have this man put out of my/our house. I wound up at a girlfriend’s house instead and drank a beer. He didn’t attempt to contact me for a while. Then he did as if everything was all good.

It wasn’t all good with me, of course, and I told him so. Thus began more arguing. He called me everything but a child of God and vice-versa and it takes a whole hell of a lot for me to stoop to that level.

When I tell you I was/am done…????!!!

Constantly, I beg of this man to get out of this marriage that taunts him and hurts him so. Leave this woman who is such a whore and easy lay and who, he would have you believe, has cheated.

You know, I didn’t even intend to go into that much detail, but one of the topics of the argument was that I had mentioned the “other man” in my blog. Which I didn’t. I mentioned “that scandal” and that was it. But, he made it seem like I romanticized this guy or something.

Ridiculous, I tell you.

Which leads us to last night/today. He’s been syrup-y sweet. It’s so typical and obvious and just so fucking contrived I can’t stand it. But he’d never believe it. He believes he’s being authentic. And he might be…for the time being.

I don’t know what my point is. I don’t know if I even really have a point here. I just needed to vent it. And especially now that I know he reads this blog (which…did/do I even care?) well… whoomp here it is.

"I’m on Valium; Everything’s okay."

It’s been a running joke for me the last few months, how I would just love for my doctor to prescribe me Valium and make everything okay. I made light of it because I know that there is often a stigma attached to people relieving their stress, anxiety and depression with medication. I, however, have been doing so since my early twenties. My mother only just realized that I take anti-depressants and anxiety medication. She often asks why and if she contributed to the reason, but that’s neither here nor there at this point, so I simply tell her “no.”

And I can’t really blame any one person or thing unless it’s myself and my inability to properly express myself and not fear the consequences and repercussions. I over-compensate. I bend over backwards to make sure everyone else is happy and I rarely, if ever ask for help.

So, I took myself to the doctor last week and told him, without too much detail, the current height of my stress level. He recommended Ativan, but I insisted on Valium because I know better than anyone that I am, indeed, at that point.

He gave it to me. At first, it felt like I was taking a placebo. I wanted it to work and I wanted it to work fast. Turns out I had to adjust my dosage just a little and then…eureka.

I don’t want to depend on a pill to “deal,” but during a particularly tough time today, I popped one. It was either that or break down crying and have to leave my job because I was such a wreck.

But…I prefer this to my other self, where I scream and hit and cry and beg and beg for my voice to be heard to no avail. Right now, I’m still not being heard, I’m still being misunderstood, but…I kinda don’t give a fuck.

That in and of itself seems pretty harsh and cold, but I can’t continue being the only one who cares, the only one who feels anything, the only one who’s hurt. So, if it takes me having to pop a “happy” pill now and again to keep myself from saying or doing something I shouldn’t then, so be it.

I don’t care that my husband is not talking to me. I don’t care that when he does talk to me it’s with anger and resentment in his voice. I don’t care that he hasn’t fucked me and probably won’t anytime soon. I just don’t fucking care.

The mind boggling thing, though, is that if he has this massive misperception of me, if he thinks me to be this horrible person who doesn’t have his and our family’s best interest at heart, why the hell is he still here? Why is wasting his time and mine?

I am perfectly self-sufficient. I left home at 18 and never, ever looked back… well, except that one time in ’06, lol. Still. I can take care of me and mine. But, I don’t go around screaming this to him. I need him, absolutely, but in totally different ways than he realizes.

I need him to know and understand me. I need him to see and hear me. It’s been five years, why has this not happened yet? Or am I just too naïve to see and accept that it never will?