Sunday, June 10, 2012

From March 1, 2011

From Stepchicks (not edited--when I wrote this, I was on Fentanyl, Dilaudid, Norco, and Soma).

He Actually Wrote This In An Email To Me





"So what do we do? I hate it. You hate it. I just typed I hate you...I erased it but do you think it was freudian slip?"


There's a whole story here, and suffice it to say, there's more to come. I'd been in the hospital for a week (2/20-2/27) due to complications from my back surgery, but I got home this two days ago, and all hell has broken loose. I had tried doing a posting or two from the hospital after I started to make a turn-around pain-wise, but the connection there was spotty, and an entire discussion I typed was deleted because of their weird settings that had to be reset each time. Oh, well.

For some reason while I was away, DH decided to undue several things around the house, throw away things that belong to my children, and use every interaction (which were few) with my children to tell them how much he hates things I've done around the house, or that I'm doing, or that I have done. He's not into decorating, fashion, and such, so this kind of took me aback. The fact that he waited until I was gone was what was so creepy. He took down the black-out panels in the room where I had been recovering because he said he didn't like how I put them up (so he undid a project that took me 2-plus hours over a month ago while getting things ready for my recovery), and he got mad about some other decorating things that really were not relevant. Tea light candles in their little holders, me shortening the shower curtain in the guest bathroom upstairs (that he never uses), throwing out the q-tip and cotton-ball holders in that same bathroom, throwing all of the clean laundry onto the the dining room table upstairs because he didn't like that my children had left it in baskets in the laundry room downstairs. And that he saw something of his mixed in.

So he did most of this the day before I came home too! Yet when I'd talk to him on the phone from the hospital and ask him how things were going and/or what was wrong (because he sounded so damned hateful), he'd complain about how "annoyed" he was getting with me " having to talk to me," and--during one call--how frustrated he was that he will never be able to get those "ten minutes back" ever (one of the calls where I was apologizing for having a medical emergency that threw everything out of whack and how I appreciated him taking care of things). Yes, I was placating him, but I wasn't exactly in a position to do anything else. Plus, for the Wed-Sun part of my Sun-Sun stay, he had SD7, which meant HE had to take care of her HIMSELF. That is NEVER a good thing. Her last time here, his mother had flown in to help. I'm not sure what he thought I could do this time because even without my hospital stay, I still couldn't drive or be of much use with his kid. And the only things I'd asked him to do for me were to stop by the store or to hand me something once or twice. I had my children acting as my help since he had made it so clear how busy he was and how he hated the food choices I made and so on. Yet another story for another day.

I hate being the center of attention, but when I have to be taken by ambulance to the hospital because I can't move, and I have to stay in the hospital for a week being loaded up on the strongest pain killers just to keep from screaming when I'm moved? I had the most traumatizing and agonizing week of my life just recently (panic attacks have already started up), but it's all about how I've decorated incorrectly and taught my children to do things he doesn't like just to "provoke" him.

Yes, I apologized because it really made things so hard for him. Just asking where my three children were in the evenings and asking if they had the number to the room so they could call if they wanted, etc. Turns out something went wrong with my hardware they just put into my back and hips, something broke, etc., which can't be fixed surgically because an exploratory surgery after such a major surgery would put me at a great risk of getting septic and/or dying. So a big deal, right? And to my children. But what does he decide to do? Act like an asshole to my children while I'm stuck in a hospital bed a half-hour away, complain about how he gets mad when I called to ask how things are going and to ask him to check in on my youngest who keeps calling me crying because she's scared I'm gonna die. He just decides that she's just like my oldest, and that they're the same person. What the hell does that have to do with anything? She was also calling to tell me she was afraid of him, but I left that one alone until we talked in person Sunday.

There was debate with my doctor about sending me home or to a rehab-unit, and so I wasn't sure when I'd be leaving the hospital. DH was furious. So when the day was decided on (Sunday) he was making huge deal about having to come and pick me up because he had "work to do" and "laundry" to get done, and SD7 had a birthday party that afternoon. I told him I could look into some kind of medical transport or to even get a Taxi, which is not common in my area, and is insanely expensive, and he's suddenly all excited about this. I can't even get up to use the toilet without a walker and tons of help, and he's fine with me taking a cab home? And he has no problem paying more than $100 bucks for this, when he threw a fit while I was away about me previously buying a $1 bag of straws? I told him I would call someone who could get me, who had already offered (Ex-husband #2, of all people), and then he decided that he'd be able to come and get me after all. I have no friends or family here, so it make things really difficult when I have a husband like this, no money, and nowhere to go.

So I get home (he was half-decent the way home, taking care to drive in a way that would keep the pain to a miminum, but I wonder if he just was sick of hearing my voice since he is compassion-deficient) and I start looking around noticing everything he's done, while I'm waiting to sit down. The room is screaming bright and hot because of the sun-exposure (hence the need for the black-out panels) and he goes into this crap about how I had done it all wrong, and that he hates it, and he was sick of me not doing things right, etc. I'm standing hunched over a walker waiting to sit down and recover from the car trip, and my children are looking scared out of their minds.

He goes and gets SD7 ready for the party and to take her to her mom's after, and I asked him what happened and why he needed to do all of this. He started yelling at me but then tells me he doesn't want to fight with me, but then says that I do all kinds of things that piss him off, etc. I told him to please get away from me (because I can't exactly walk away from him for physical and logistical reasons), and he storms out yelling. SD7 heard and saw everything, and so did my 3. My middle child (who missed three days of school to stay at the hospital with me to help) came out of her room crying, and I just lost it.

I started looking up women's shelters online, but it turns out that around here you can only take one kid with you, and they don't have the medical capabilities to care for someone who's just gotten out of the hospital and requires around-the-clock care. I can put food into my mouth, and I can barely wipe my ass, but I can't drive, pack, and I can barely walk. Plus I have to take meds, which have a high street-value, so the last thing I need is to worry about is that shit too.

So he writes me this email when he gets back (and I'm downstairs away from him in my recovery area), which has that line that I quoted.

And here is the rest of it, condensed:

  • I don't like being here, I cannot think straight when I am here, I am uncomfartable much of the time here, everywhere I look someone has done something thoughtless/stupid/disrespectful and I know that all I can do is fucking live with it which pisses me off...there is no where else for me to go and I do not beleive it is my interest to abandon this asset (the house). I am uncertain on whether it is my best interest to abandon the marriage. I do not think so, but I wonder. Obviously going around and around like this won't work for anyone.
  • You do not like being here and unless I am missing something you have right around 0 options. I don't know where you stand on the marriage...there are times when I get the feeling you are already out of it. Other times you still seem in it so I don't know. It occurred to me earlier that the only thing I could really be sure that we had in common was a dislike for my ex-wife...that cannot be good.
  • I am also not happy about the stress I suspect this is causing the girls...or that they are causing themselves as result of our fighting...splittig hairs but it is a relevant distinction to my mind.
Anyway, you got any ideas? Any point to counseling? I am pretty much drawing a blank, myself. Living separately together would appear on its surface to be a reasonable temporary solution. Divide up the house and everybody stay out of each others way until you get back on your feet and can figure out what you want to do. But as soon as I look below that surface of that plan it becomes pretty clear it will not work.
Anyway, if you have any thoughts I will listen to/read them.

3 comments:

  1. What a dumb fuck. It would be even better to get a big bucket of white paint and paint a line through the middle of the house. Each person gets a side.
    The person with the kitchen side has to roll peas to the person without food.
    The person with the toilet has to empty the coke bottles the other one fills with piss because they can not cross the maginot line.
    How about he hire movers to pack his shit and get him the fuck out, and you slip them a $20 to drop a piece of furniture on his foot.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm so glad to not live with him anymore. No one trying to dry-hump me from behind at 5 AM, even when we had separate bedrooms. "Separate" meaning what's his is his, and what's mine is his.

    ReplyDelete
  3. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete