One of the worst days of my life. Hands down.
Hubs and I don't normally fight, but boohowdy.
We finally went to bed at three. Both of us crying.
Today I can't look him in the eye.
I haven't hurt like this, well ever.
Anniversarys are dead to me. Forevah.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Annnd, No Cigar.
Husband and I are very different. Very very different. Which is one of the reasons we work so well. Different, different, different.
Sooooo, lest this bitchfest of a blog take on a happier tone, let's talk about that some more.
Today is our four year anniversary. We've known each other for well over ten, but married for four. And we're M0rm0n. So no sex, no living together, etc. etc. before we were married. And yet, I knew exactly what I was signing up for, so why am I complaining about what I already knew? Question for the ages I suppose.
He's a brilliant fella. Like seriously Mensa off the charts wicked smart. And talented. And funny. And hooboy do I love him. But hooboy does he make me crazy.
Romance? Not so much. Ever.
Ever.
He's sweet, and gentle, and kind. And having been in an abusive relationship for years where my significant other was none of those things, why is this not enough?
It's like I'm married to a robot sometimes. He doesn't FEEL anything. Seriously.
I've never seen him sad, or mad, or frustrated, or anxietal. Evah. He doesn't get upset. Which is great because I swear I'm a bi-freaking-polar train, but my hell living with a robot makes you feel even more bat-shit-crazy than you already are. Good times.
I made him plan our anniversary this year. Because we've never celebrated one before. Or birthdays. Or really Christmas for that matter. We SUX hard.
And the only things I had stipulated in my mind (why didn't I verbalize it you ask? because i thought it was so damn obvious i didn't have too!!) is no "Terminator" movie for our night out (You too Wolverine) and no Temple trip. I love the Templo (let's call it this so we're not easily googled shall we?), but it's a 2 hour excursion to get there (traffic) and the session itself is 3 hours. That's five freaking hours, which I usually love. But when we go on dates, you know once every two months or so, that's what we do. We go to the Templo. Again, which I love. But really?! This is our thinking outside the box. And he KNOWS that this is a big deal to me this year. Our relationship has been a bit turby these past few months, and that extra effort was going to go a LONG way in rectifying some things.
So. Tonight we're going to the Templo. And to our favorite restaurant that we ALWAYS go to, and then home. Maaahhhhhh.
I love him. I do. But I'm tempted to go watch a chick-flick with a box of m&ms alone and call it "celebration."
Sooooo, lest this bitchfest of a blog take on a happier tone, let's talk about that some more.
Today is our four year anniversary. We've known each other for well over ten, but married for four. And we're M0rm0n. So no sex, no living together, etc. etc. before we were married. And yet, I knew exactly what I was signing up for, so why am I complaining about what I already knew? Question for the ages I suppose.
He's a brilliant fella. Like seriously Mensa off the charts wicked smart. And talented. And funny. And hooboy do I love him. But hooboy does he make me crazy.
Romance? Not so much. Ever.
Ever.
He's sweet, and gentle, and kind. And having been in an abusive relationship for years where my significant other was none of those things, why is this not enough?
It's like I'm married to a robot sometimes. He doesn't FEEL anything. Seriously.
I've never seen him sad, or mad, or frustrated, or anxietal. Evah. He doesn't get upset. Which is great because I swear I'm a bi-freaking-polar train, but my hell living with a robot makes you feel even more bat-shit-crazy than you already are. Good times.
I made him plan our anniversary this year. Because we've never celebrated one before. Or birthdays. Or really Christmas for that matter. We SUX hard.
And the only things I had stipulated in my mind (why didn't I verbalize it you ask? because i thought it was so damn obvious i didn't have too!!) is no "Terminator" movie for our night out (You too Wolverine) and no Temple trip. I love the Templo (let's call it this so we're not easily googled shall we?), but it's a 2 hour excursion to get there (traffic) and the session itself is 3 hours. That's five freaking hours, which I usually love. But when we go on dates, you know once every two months or so, that's what we do. We go to the Templo. Again, which I love. But really?! This is our thinking outside the box. And he KNOWS that this is a big deal to me this year. Our relationship has been a bit turby these past few months, and that extra effort was going to go a LONG way in rectifying some things.
So. Tonight we're going to the Templo. And to our favorite restaurant that we ALWAYS go to, and then home. Maaahhhhhh.
I love him. I do. But I'm tempted to go watch a chick-flick with a box of m&ms alone and call it "celebration."
Thursday, May 21, 2009
What Might Have Been
Soooo, last night hub and I went to a Ballroom Dance Concert in DC. The top formation team in the United States was performing (a team I danced on less than five years ago) and he thought it would be a fun surprise to go support the troops.
Hmmm. Very sweet hubs, very sweet, but the timing? I feel like our lives right now are in a state of entropy and that perhaps a walk down memory lane of one of the happiest periods of my existence was perhaps a bit, uh ill timed. Unless he wanted me on that tour bus when the performance was over. In which case, smooth.
BUT... I think I've grown. Who knew? We watched the performance. It was fun. The dancing was good. And I re-lived fond memories. But you know, I wouldn't trade one minute of their lives for one of mine. This is richer. Hell yeah it's harder. And there are tears. But the sense of rightness and completion I have with my little family surpasses anything I've ever experienced before. Even with the entropy. And the head banging. (Sophie's and mine)
We watched beautiful movement with sparkly dresses and incredible choreography and it was great. And when it was over, I was ready to go home. I missed my girls. I missed our home on the vineyard, and our dog that pees on everything. Catching a glimpse of what once was helped me realize how incredible my life is now.
It's not sparkly. More often than not there's mucas on at least one article of clothing that I'm wearing. The music plain ol sucks (bite me Elmo). The choreography is constantly changing and I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't know the steps.
It's hard. Hell it's hard. But it's better. And it's mine.
Hmmm. Very sweet hubs, very sweet, but the timing? I feel like our lives right now are in a state of entropy and that perhaps a walk down memory lane of one of the happiest periods of my existence was perhaps a bit, uh ill timed. Unless he wanted me on that tour bus when the performance was over. In which case, smooth.
BUT... I think I've grown. Who knew? We watched the performance. It was fun. The dancing was good. And I re-lived fond memories. But you know, I wouldn't trade one minute of their lives for one of mine. This is richer. Hell yeah it's harder. And there are tears. But the sense of rightness and completion I have with my little family surpasses anything I've ever experienced before. Even with the entropy. And the head banging. (Sophie's and mine)
We watched beautiful movement with sparkly dresses and incredible choreography and it was great. And when it was over, I was ready to go home. I missed my girls. I missed our home on the vineyard, and our dog that pees on everything. Catching a glimpse of what once was helped me realize how incredible my life is now.
It's not sparkly. More often than not there's mucas on at least one article of clothing that I'm wearing. The music plain ol sucks (bite me Elmo). The choreography is constantly changing and I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't know the steps.
It's hard. Hell it's hard. But it's better. And it's mine.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Well that was fun
My husband gets home from work everynight between 730 and 800. And I HATE it. HATE. I know, we live in a suburb, the commute sucks, there aren't really any other options, but I feel like there are and he's just NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH. Unfair? Probably. But I still feel that way.
Husband and I don't fight. Or shall I say didn't used to fight, up until about a week ago. My mind has gone bazoo, my body has decided to cease and desist. And well I'm not pleasant company. Yesterday hub said his last meeting was at 330 and that he should be able to leave the city around 400ish. Meaning, he'd be home by five. We could eat together! As a family! I could play with the kids with dad and we could make lasting freaking memories! (expectations high much?) Right. So he comes rollin in around 745. No call. No real good reason.
This happens OVER and OVER and OVER again. And I turn into medusa with snakes for hair and crazy albino rat eyes. (He's a real lucky guy.)
And I lost it. For the first time in our four year marriage I went bat-shit crazy on him. And I said some really really mean things. I have never spoken an unkind word to that sweet man. But I did. And I think I really hurt him. My sweet robot who isn't affected by anything. I've known him for ten years and have never seen him stressed, angry, sad, or upset. (except for that one time he couldn't think away his hiccups. i know.) I hurt him. And I felt like crap.
--------------------------
Several hours later I'd worked myself into a full on whigged out state. I feel like I can't control my mind. The physical world, yeah it sucks sometimes, but I can handle it. It's mah brain that makes me want to swim out into the sea. (Don't you live in VA you ask? Shut up. I could find a sea if I wanted to.)
And it got ugly. I don't think anyone has ever seen me like that before, and I know it scared him. I've seen myself in "the black" as I call it, and it's not pretty and I'm ashamed of it and I never ever ever wanted anyone else to know what lives inside me. Now he does.
I know he won't leave. But who could love that kind of crazy? I was looking for a sea last night, and hubs was scared. He still is.
Husband and I don't fight. Or shall I say didn't used to fight, up until about a week ago. My mind has gone bazoo, my body has decided to cease and desist. And well I'm not pleasant company. Yesterday hub said his last meeting was at 330 and that he should be able to leave the city around 400ish. Meaning, he'd be home by five. We could eat together! As a family! I could play with the kids with dad and we could make lasting freaking memories! (expectations high much?) Right. So he comes rollin in around 745. No call. No real good reason.
This happens OVER and OVER and OVER again. And I turn into medusa with snakes for hair and crazy albino rat eyes. (He's a real lucky guy.)
And I lost it. For the first time in our four year marriage I went bat-shit crazy on him. And I said some really really mean things. I have never spoken an unkind word to that sweet man. But I did. And I think I really hurt him. My sweet robot who isn't affected by anything. I've known him for ten years and have never seen him stressed, angry, sad, or upset. (except for that one time he couldn't think away his hiccups. i know.) I hurt him. And I felt like crap.
--------------------------
Several hours later I'd worked myself into a full on whigged out state. I feel like I can't control my mind. The physical world, yeah it sucks sometimes, but I can handle it. It's mah brain that makes me want to swim out into the sea. (Don't you live in VA you ask? Shut up. I could find a sea if I wanted to.)
And it got ugly. I don't think anyone has ever seen me like that before, and I know it scared him. I've seen myself in "the black" as I call it, and it's not pretty and I'm ashamed of it and I never ever ever wanted anyone else to know what lives inside me. Now he does.
I know he won't leave. But who could love that kind of crazy? I was looking for a sea last night, and hubs was scared. He still is.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Hole
I don't know what to do. I simply do not know what to do. My body is failing me. I've seen three specialists during these past couple of months, have had more things shoved up my hoohoo than I'd like to count, and I'm tired. I'm plain ol sick of it all.
We moved. Our last landlord chased small children with an axe (I am NOT making this up.) and was on 24 hour surveillance by the police. He took a HUGE chunk of our security deposit and now we're suing him. Good times. I am actually a little afraid that he's going to come after us in the middle of the night. Wearing a clown mask.
Our current landlord seemed like an angel sent from above three months ago, but as it turns out he is STEALING from us. We now live on a vineyard, and yes it's beautiful, but he has one of his buildings where all his employees work and saw and build and whatever hooked up to OUR meter. And when we got our first electricity bill for$1000 he played dumb and said he had NO idea why it was so high. What were we doing at our house?! Seriously. Dumbass.
My digestive system has stopped working. Let's leave it at that. I'm 29 and I can't poo.
The depressions/anxiety is crippling. If I could crawl up in a hole and bury myself forever without inflicting pain on my loved ones, I totally would.
My husband lost his job. His company file for chapter 11 a couple months ago and we've just been waiting for the shoe to drop. It has. And since they've filed for bankruptcy there's no severance. Aaaannnnddd since they're disbanding completely in a month, we only have a month of Cobra before that ends as well. With ALL MY PRE-EXISTING conditions. I do not qualify for any insurance on the face of the planet, except for the kind you get ads for in your email and then if you click on them you mysteriously have the ebola virus on your computer. So maybe it'd be best for everyone to re-think that hole option.
And (oh yes there's more) I'm not loving being a mother. What the FUCK is wrong with me?! All my life I swore, oh I'll be a great mom, I'll always let my kids know that I love them, I'll never leave them and make them feel unlovable. It's fun to swear things when you have no effing clue what you're talking about.
My mom left. I get it. It's not okay. But I get it.
My husband is a freaking saint, and sometimes I wonder why I married a saint. I'm not a saint. I don't even want to be a saint. I used to have all these dreams and aspirations and now, well I want to live in a hole.
We moved. Our last landlord chased small children with an axe (I am NOT making this up.) and was on 24 hour surveillance by the police. He took a HUGE chunk of our security deposit and now we're suing him. Good times. I am actually a little afraid that he's going to come after us in the middle of the night. Wearing a clown mask.
Our current landlord seemed like an angel sent from above three months ago, but as it turns out he is STEALING from us. We now live on a vineyard, and yes it's beautiful, but he has one of his buildings where all his employees work and saw and build and whatever hooked up to OUR meter. And when we got our first electricity bill for$1000 he played dumb and said he had NO idea why it was so high. What were we doing at our house?! Seriously. Dumbass.
My digestive system has stopped working. Let's leave it at that. I'm 29 and I can't poo.
The depressions/anxiety is crippling. If I could crawl up in a hole and bury myself forever without inflicting pain on my loved ones, I totally would.
My husband lost his job. His company file for chapter 11 a couple months ago and we've just been waiting for the shoe to drop. It has. And since they've filed for bankruptcy there's no severance. Aaaannnnddd since they're disbanding completely in a month, we only have a month of Cobra before that ends as well. With ALL MY PRE-EXISTING conditions. I do not qualify for any insurance on the face of the planet, except for the kind you get ads for in your email and then if you click on them you mysteriously have the ebola virus on your computer. So maybe it'd be best for everyone to re-think that hole option.
And (oh yes there's more) I'm not loving being a mother. What the FUCK is wrong with me?! All my life I swore, oh I'll be a great mom, I'll always let my kids know that I love them, I'll never leave them and make them feel unlovable. It's fun to swear things when you have no effing clue what you're talking about.
My mom left. I get it. It's not okay. But I get it.
My husband is a freaking saint, and sometimes I wonder why I married a saint. I'm not a saint. I don't even want to be a saint. I used to have all these dreams and aspirations and now, well I want to live in a hole.
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