As I became more emotionally healthy, the more obvious it was that my marriage was a disaster. I know of no better way to describe the three months before I left, than to quote entries from my own journal. I have left out the dates and specific names since this was originally done as an anonymous online journal. For some reason it is easier to write about things when you are telling it to someone else. A matter of focus, I would guess. Some events I discuss happened earlier because my feelings were too mixed to write about them when they occurred. So, you’re getting a mix of stream of consciousness and chronological order.
Last Wednesday, we had an almost perfect afternoon. I found out I had lost five pounds in the past week. The kids came home happy, I had been doing well, and Don didn't have to work overtime. We talked sweetly to each other. It was wonderful.
Then later, the kids were playing nicely together in another room, I was still doing housework at a pace that wouldn't make me sick and Don was remodeling our main bathroom so our wheelchair bound friend could use it. I sat down for a short rest when he came out as proud as can be of his workmanship. He had braced the walls for extra support for the handrails. He tested it by putting his full weight on each support section. I agreed with him that it should easily support our six foot plus friend, and he exclaims, "Not only that, but it could even support your weight!"
I muttered that our friend weighed more than I did and my husband gives me this blank look and says, "He does?" I say, "Yes, he does."
What can you do when you realize that your husband has you visualized as the epitome of largeness? I mean, my friends keep telling me I'm not really that bad, but they're all females. The thing is I've always suspected he felt that way. Even in the past when I would start to slim down, he wouldn't notice. People I hardly knew would ask me if I lost weight, and if he was standing right there, he would get this look of shock on his face.
He told me when we were engaged that weight didn't matter to him, that no matter what I weighed, he would still love me. He said this after I revealed my worry about being able to stay relatively "unfat". I told him back then I wasn't that great of a housekeeper. At the time, he just smiled.
Now, he doesn't care what else I'm good at. He just wants me to keep the house clean--even when he leaves his stuff around and saws wood in the living room. The man's a slob, but I'm the waste of human flesh because I can't keep the place clean. The kids even wonder why Dad can't put away his own stuff. Well, in fairness, he does put some stuff away, but the moment I get an area clean up, either the kids pull their toys out into it, or Don starts a new project in the area. I would rather have the toys – at least I can move them without destroying something. He doesn't understand that it is harder to clean when you have to work around a large pile of stuff. I'm suppose to be careful about leaving out harmful things (which I'm pretty good at doing), but he suppose to be able to leave saws, knives, solvents (which make me sick - I make him move those), and such without the kids touching them. I'm not even sure when he has finished a project sometimes because the stuff is still out.
Still, he has made some effort to be a little better, but I'm still considered the one with the problem. I've been trying to be a little more open with my affection, but it's hard because he considers just about every display of emotion to be manipulative. I use to hide a lot when I wanted to cry, because I was too proud to let him see. Then I found out during our marriage counseling that he thought I cried to make him feel bad, and that my tears weren't sincere. I can't win for losing.
We dropped out of counseling, because he wouldn't admit he had any problems and, damn my stupid psyche, I would subconsciously take over the session with my problems so he would be spared the pain of facing his own. We even discussed this during our last session. What it all boils down to is that counseling isn't going to help us a bit, until I can stop trying to protect his feelings or he starts to face his own problems.
He has been acting more helpless since I got the laundry under control. Last night, my eyes were burning from the dust storm outside when I went to check where those sparks were coming from. After I got back in and called the electrical company, I got him to decide which picture package we should get of the kids' school pictures - I'm tired of getting the disapproving you're-spending-too-much look. He's probably the only person in the universe who thinks I'm impulsive. Then when I went to make out the checks, I found that I couldn't see what I was doing. I handed him the checkbook and asked him to please make out the checks because my eyes were burning. As he lay on the couch, watching TV with no apparent discomfort, he stated that his eyes were burning too. I ended up writing out the checks while continually wiping tears from my eyes.
He always does that. No matter what physical problem I have - he has it too. Yet, I'm suppose to still keep everything done, while he huddles on the couch and hibernates. And, of course, he won't go to the doctors - not unless I drag him there. A few years back, I had a case of bronchitis that lasted for almost two months. Since I was only coughing and sneezing out clear stuff, I assumed it was just allergies, but I got so weak that I needed to get something stronger than over-the-counter medications. Our family nurse must be pretty good at reading people, because she ordered me to tell my husband that he had to take over the cooking and cleaning, and let me get one week of complete bed rest, or she would personally put me in the hospital herself. It worked. You want Don to pay serious attention to you - threaten his wallet. The only time I have seen him truly happy is when he has gotten a great bargain on something. He also thinks that dentists charge too much, which is why my mouth is a total mess. He doesn't believe in crowns and I should have gotten several a few years ago. Interesting note: whenever his teeth are bothering him, we get them taken care of.
I didn't fix him anything before the kids and I went to church Sunday. I wasn't being spiteful or mean. I was just running out of time and I figured it was more important to fix something easy that I knew the kids would eat, than to fix something he would eat too, only to have it still setting on the stove when I came back because he decided he would rather eat something else. He told me he wasn't a picky eater when we were engaged, but, frankly, he's one of the pickiest eaters I have ever had to cook for. Don't bother trying to widen his palate, he's not interested. He gave me a slight pout when I left with the kids. I've been trying to think of another way to describe the look, but I must admit it was definitely a pout.
When we got back, he was still laying on the couch. Only now, he insisted he wasn't feeling good. He insisted the same thing last weekend, but my son and I were the only ones with the fevers and diarrhea. Another interesting note: 80% of the time he says he is sick, he doesn't have a fever. Conversely, 80% of the time I say I'm sick, I do. He says I use the thermometer too much. So, anyway, I fixed chicken noodle soup just for him, which he ate up completely and asked for another full can of. Unfortunately, I was doing something with the kids and forgot about the second pan of soup. When I remembered, he had taken it off the burner and declared it burned. Because of the numerous surgeries he had to have to correct his cleft palette as a child, he has practically no sense of smell. I thought it was strange that I didn't smell the stuff burning, since I have a very sensitive sense of smell when it comes to burning things, so I checked it out. It had most of the liquid boiled away, but it didn't smell or taste burnt. Just some more water would have made it fine, but when I tried to explain this, that pout came back and I knew it was a lost cause.
Anyway, I handed him the phone and reminded him to call his mother. Her birthday is this week and since he did the grocery shopping instead of me, we didn't get a card for her. After she talked to everyone else, she asked to talk to me. I really didn't want to talk to her at that moment. Don't get me wrong - I'm probably her most favorite daughter in-law. At least, she compliments me more and gripes about me less than she does the other in-laws. I told her how I was keeping things clean by picking up after her son and she made her oft repeated comment that if you want something to stay clean, you have to clean it all yourself, or something along those lines. She saw my actions as a confirmation of her attitudes, not realizing that I wanted to strangle her for raising her son to think that this was how housework was suppose to be done.
Errrrr . . . no wonder he hardly goes to church anymore. He was raised in a different faith and converted to mine in his early twenties. In my faith, husbands and wives are supposed to work together. My dad helped out a lot whenever he was home, even if he was at work most of the time. The only time in the past several years that my husband has attended church on a regular basis, was when we were in counseling, but he stopped as soon as we stopped going to counseling. His reason for not wanting to attend was he didn't like lying to people that everything was fine at home. Our marriage counselor was of the same faith, though he attended a different congregation, so he was very curious who was asking about our home life. So was I. Especially, since it was the ladies at church who pointed out my depression to me and would come by every so often to help me from becoming too overwhelmed. In other words, they already knew the truth of my "lack of keeping up with things". Of course, most of them were (and maybe still are) annoyed with how little he did to help me recover. When the counselor questioned my husband more about this, he muttered something extremely vague. He also said I was a hypocrite, but wouldn't give any specifics. I admitted I wasn't perfect and I never claimed to be. He still just said I wasn't as good as I should be.
Well, he's one to talk. One of the main things I loved about him before we got married was his spirituality. Even though I was raised in our faith and studied it to combat my mother's views - not to mention taken several religion classes - I never felt that I was superior to him in that aspect. Several times lately, though, he has patronized me about church doctrine as if his knowledge is greater than mine, even though I've been the one attending church. Luckily, we have a definitive book on church doctrine and I have on those occasions been able to refer to it to see if I was mistaken. As you may guess, I wasn't and I would show him the entry in the most non-threatening way possible. Remember, I used to have these arguments with my mother and if I had shown any sign of smugness or patronizing, I would have paid for it painfully - so I am quite positive I did this as kindly as I could.
I think he's trying to do one of my
mother's favorite tactics - accusing another of having the faults he can't
stand in himself and I'm the scapegoat.
I have been busy planning a very important event for my son. It was very frustrating because I had no experience with doing this and Don had, but he did almost nothing to help me. I told him Saturday that I felt that I was really over my head since I had never done this before and gave him a very pointed look. He took the hint and stopped needling me about what I had or hadn't checked up on.
This week, my fibromyalgia has been horrible. I'm halfway back to having things the way they were before I got sick - so things are still not really bad, but I'm wondering if my difficulty to reclaiming control has anything to do with the fact that when I was making consistent progress on that front, Don was getting really weird on me. I kept the living room clean and he shows signs of depression and stops working on remodeling the bathroom and his other projects. I get the laundry caught up and he starts acting childish. I get sick and things become cluttered again and he's acting fine now. I want to scream and bang my head against a wall. Well, I guess I should approach this like a lab technician and see if the same thing happens when I get things under control again . . . but if he commits suicide when I get the kitchen clean, I'm going to ask the doctor for some really strong tranquilizers - I think I can justify going back on Xanax then. I've already backed up most of my important files on my computer (though, I should update it) as a friend suggested. A little over a year ago when he got mad at me, he opened up the computer and unplugged every cable in it. My friend was the one who helped me plug everything back and for a long while after that, she kept a backup of my writings at her place.
Well, Don actually got stuff done this weekend. So much, in fact, that for a moment I actually considered letting things go once a month to get him to finish his projects, despite the fact that he talked down to me the whole time and acted like I was some stupid child. But then we found out our ISP changed rates and Don, after he chewed me out for not making this and that call, told me to cancel it. I felt like a five-year-old, but I did tried to stand my ground and did state that I would find another ISP to go with. He thinks that if he can make me uncomfortable enough that I'll stay off the 'net and he won't have to pay that bill to pay. He spends more on videotapes. But he has done this to me before and it was almost three years before I got back online. If it wasn't for a very good friend giving me free access for a few months, so I could prove we saved more money when we could email versus calling long distance, I would have never got back online.
Thankfully, another good friend has helped me get another service. Since Don is acting so erratic now, we're having the bill sent to her place. She also put the first two months on her credit card, so I won't catch grief for it right away. I'm am also going to set aside a small amount of money every week to place in a savings account in my name only. It won't be too hard - despite Don's bargain hunting obsession, I actually spend less on groceries than he does and the amount will hardly be noticed. I guess I'd better have the statements sent my friend's house too.
Funny thing, after he "hinted" that I really needed to get the house clean, he took my vacuum cleaner apart. Luckily I still had a friend's shopvac to use, but I wish someone would explain the logic behind this action.
Last night, he was verbally belligerent, but this time when he started acting like the authority on everything, I made him state his informational sources - just to keep things equal. He was actually correct on some of it, but I see no reason why I should take this crap from a man who waited for his wife to get a ticket for driving his vehicle with expired tags before he got it taken care of. They were only three months past the date and I had mentioned that they needed renewed months backs. I'm still waiting for my own car to be fixed.
We had a lesson in church today about leading our children to good behavior versus driving them to it. It's rather a sore topic at home. Don thinks I should "lay down the law" more and I think he should "live the law" more. A few weeks ago, he put on a video with truly awful language. When we were first married, he informed me that we would not have any video in the house that was above a PG-13 rating. About four years ago he started buying these movies himself. I raised an eyebrow at the time, but he ignored me . . . maybe I should have been a nag and reminded him of his rule, but I didn't. I told myself that he was only watching them late at night. That's not true anymore. Anyway, when he put that movie on, totally unconcerned about the fact it was Sunday afternoon and the kids were running around. I coughed and mentioned that we didn't want our children to speak that way. He gave me this blank look and then turned to the kids and told them in a very loud voice that if he ever heard them talking like that, that he would beat their bottoms.
My heart sank into my stomach. It has always bothered me that he would buy treats for himself and eat them in front of the kids without sharing. We never did that in my family. If my parents got something special, they would either share it with everybody or keep them out of sight until later. We were always told that it was bad manners to eat something in front of someone else without offering some. But my husband lives a double standard, though he will deny it vehemently. And whenever I try to call him on this, I get a long string of "Well, you do this...and you do that..." and how I am just this terrible awful person. But I do my best to be good in front of my children - I know for a fact that example teaches better than threats.
When the kids and I got back into our vehicle, I was still going over the lesson and wondering what one parent could do when the other parent insists on living a double standard. My children were telling me what they did in their classes and showing me the candy they got. I didn't have much of a voice left, so I kept my words to a minimum. (I had told them earlier that my voice was going.) As I concentrated on driving, they picked out some candy and offered it to me. Sweet, I know. Then my daughter said something that stabbed my heart - "We're not going to give Dad any because he's mean to us." I asked her why she thought that. "Because he always yells at us and you too!" I didn't realized he yelled so much, but apparently the kids thought so, because my son agreed wholeheartedly with his sister. Then they said something that I still have trouble believing: that I only yell at their dad when he yells at me first. "Because you get mad at him when he yells," they tell me.
I was always certain that we were equal on the yelling front, but then again I also always thought that we barely yelled at all. Thinking back, I can only think of two - maybe three times - when I got so disgusted that I actually started a yelling match. I guess I need to pay attention to our volume level more often.
But what was I supposed to do about this attitude about their dad? I cringed inwardly and told my children that instead of not sharing the candy with their dad, that we should try to teach Dad to be nicer. I know, I know - children should not be the ones to raise their parents, but I want them to practice patience and understanding towards others and I couldn't think of anything else to tell them without giving an even more conflicting message.
I just want to bawl. I can barely breathe, my whole house is a mess, I have company coming for the holidays, and my children don't see their father as part of the family, even though he lives in the same house.
I can't win. I spent most of last week coughing up congestion from my lungs and right now I have four big cold sores on my upper lip.
Don was actually talking to me some last week, to my surprise. I had found a bottle of St. John's Wort that he was using. He said he had only taken a few the first day. I told him that he seemed a lot more happy lately. If someone had told me I was sounding better when I was taking something, I would be more determined to take it. My mother on the other hand, will stop taking the stuff immediately. I think my husband has my mother's attitude.
Of course, Don was a wonderful host when our friends came. He fixed dinner Wednesday night and served us. I complimented him as sincerely as I could, but in the back of my mind, I kept wondering if he really believed me or just thought I was trying to manipulate him. I took things slowly, because I was certain I was fighting pneumonia and I didn't want to end up hospitalized. I think he was disappointed in me, because here he was doing all this stuff (which he rarely does) and I wasn't matching his effort. Forget the fact that I had a hacking cough, and my friend made me go lay down a few times - I was being lazy. I wonder if Katherine Hepburn could call up chest slugs (my term for the stuff I cough up) and cold sores on cue when she was alive.
That night one of our water heaters broke down, and I was without hot water in the kitchen and laundry room. Heck! I was without water - period - most of Christmas Eve. As my husband worked to replace the old one, I kept the kids busy at his request. That night, he handed me a piece he needed replaced; totally forgetting that most of the home repair stores were closed Christmas Eve.
That I understood. What I didn't understand was why he worked on our friends' new car radio, instead of helping me get things ready for Christmas morning. The radio could have easily waited until the next afternoon, or even the day after. If I hadn't insisted he go ahead and turn on the water back on to the rest of the house, I wouldn't had been able to cook Christmas dinner. Luckily, I could wash some pots in our shower, which because of our second water heater still had hot water. (Our main bathroom is still torn apart, so I didn't have a tub to wash things in and the kitchen sink was full of dishes because I had been so sick.)
That night I told my friend how all my support people had been experiencing crisises of their own lately and how rough it was to keep my spirits up. She asked me why I hadn't called her and I reminded her of her project. She said I still should have called her, but when I tried to explain the years of neglect I hadn't told her about before, she started making excuses for my husband. I understand - my husband always goes out of his way to help them. What she doesn't understand is that he always goes out of his way to help other people, but he does practically nothing for his own wife and children. He will literally spend every evening for months on the couch, claiming to be sore and tired, but the moment someone else needs something he can showoff doing - he's suddenly Atlas or Hercules. And doesn't matter that he spends the whole weekend on the couch, with me bringing him meals and such - come Monday, he's SUPER EMPLOYEE, and I'm a slug because I don't appreciate that fact that he works all this overtime for us. This year he has worked a few weeks without doing overtime, immediately taking to the couch the moment he gets home. He then gets on my case because we don't have as much money and that he's staying home for me. I'm sorry, but he ignores me and the kids, which says to me that he's only spending more time at home to make it seem that he's actually a good person.
And my friend wondered why I didn't tell her any of this stuff. She and her husband are so indebted to my husband, that there's no way they could hear me out fairly. And that's the way my husband wants it. He's supposed to be Mr. Wonderful and I am just the lazy bitch he married. Finally, I told her what the kids told me last Sunday. Then she began to realize the really was something wrong, but I still can't talk to her. I'm not used to talking about it and she really doesn't want to hear it. Like I said, I can't win.
Right now, my husband is playing sick again and I still don't have hot water in the kitchen or laundry room. My vacuum cleaner is still apart too, and there is still remodeling stuff for me to work around. I'm thinking of finishing the final connection for the water heater myself tomorrow. I'm not going to let him keep me from getting things done, nor am I going to let him get away with making me make do. He's the type of person who, once he sees that you can manage without a certain amenity, thinks you should continue to do so. He thinks there something noble in "roughing it" - except when it comes to his own work.
It seems to me that the worse agonies of life happen deep in the soul, where no one else can see them. Even though I just did all this complaining, I still wonder if I should have tried harder this weekend. Yet logic says I was right to take it easy while I am still sick. Another part of me just wants to give up and go away. I'm so tired of fighting this battle.
I still don't have hot water to do laundry or dishes yet, but I do have several scratches from falling into some old boards with nails in them that are in the garage. Luckily, I had a tetanus booster shot about 5 years ago. On the bright side, I do know what I need to do to fix it now and I got some new Teflon tape to seal the leak in the pipe connection. I will probably take care of it Monday, unless I get so antsy that I decide to do it tonight.
But I have clean laundry now. I went to the laundry mat this afternoon and did seven loads. It was after 6 p.m. when I got home. I asked Don if the kids had eaten dinner yet and he gave me a dirty look. He has been on the couch since Thursday evening because he's sick. He did have a fever Thursday, but he doesn't feel hot to the touch when I kiss him good night on the forehead. He won't take any medicine, because he says they don't work for him anymore. Outside of him not eating much, he's not showing any signs of being sick. Perhaps I shouldn't had expected him to watch over the kids, but then again I still have to fix meals and such even when I show signs of being extremely sick. I really don't think it would have been that hard to make sure they had sandwiches or even a bowl of cereal.
Anyway, when the kids got ready for bed, they whispered to me that Daddy says I waste too much of our money on buying things we don't need. Well, sick people need fluids and even if by chance he's not really sick, I still am. I'm still coughing up mucus from my chest and I can only drink so much juice before it causes other problems. So, I don't think the soda was a waste of money. Nor the fruit nectar for that matter. If I'm going to drink juice, I at least want it to have nutritional value and I got it for the cheapest price in the city. I got him his nacho chips - he can't consider that a waste. Then I got the kids "Lunchables" - well, maybe that was unnecessary, but heck, at least it didn't get any more dishes dirty. And I got myself some cheap tamales which were too mild for me, so the kids got them for dinner and some spicy Oriental food, which does clear me out and wasn't really that expensive. If he can send me all over town to find his favorite brand of salsa, then why can't I get something that I know will make me feel better?
Thursday was scary too. My ATM card is now missing from my purse. I hardly ever use it, but Don took the checkbook and I promised the kids that they could buy something for Daddy's birthday. That and I wanted to buy him a cake. He had eaten up all my chocolate frosting and I didn't have that many clean dishes. I've been trying to clean some in our one working bathroom, but my back is hurting from bending over and that fall I took when I was checking out the water heater. Anyway, when I went to pull it out to pay for our purchases, it was gone. We left the stuff at the customer service desk and went to my husband's work to get the checkbook. Since we have only one working vehicle, a friend of mine was driving the kids and I around. He was shocked to see me there, and in front of all the receptionists and secretaries I told him in a worried tone that my ATM card was lost and that I needed the check book. He didn't say much, just that he had it and then he went and got it. I explained that I had promised the kids they could get him something the night before, but I was too sick to let them do it right then - which was true and he knows it, because I went into a really nasty coughing fit that night. He didn't say a word - not even about my lost card, which should have sent him into a panic because it might have been stolen.
My friend and I discussed the whole situation in low voices so the kids wouldn't hear, and we're almost certain that Don took my ATM card. It's the way he operates. Last weekend the kids didn't shut the door on the truck all the way and now he has forbidden them from opening the truck doors. They're supposed to climb in the driver's side. I didn't even realize he did this until we were getting into the truck to go to church. Here I was holding my lesson book and such, expecting my children to get in on the other side, and then they tell me they have to go in on the driver's side. What a hassle! Especially in cold weather when you're suffering with a chest cold. When they drew on the wall when they were little, he usually hid all the crayons, and once he even threw them away. He would say they couldn't have any until they could use them correctly, but how could they learn to use them correctly if they never had the chance to use them? Of course, then I was supposed to watch them every moment and still get the housework done. If he can't manage to clean a room and keep an eye on them for one day, how am I supposed to watch them constantly and keep a whole house clean at the same time? It's a good thing they're in school now.
Once my friend and I realized that he may be up to something, we went ahead and took the money I had been putting away a little at a time and opened a saving account in my name at a small financial institution. The statements will be sent to her house. I don't have much in it, but at least it's a start.
Earlier this week, my parents visited us while Don was at work. I went ahead and told them some of what was going on. After all, I had to explain the pile up of dirty clothes and dishes and the scratches on my arm. They want me to try to find a job and told me to go ahead with the savings account idea. They also told me that if I had to, I could move back in with them with the kids. I don't want that, but if things get worse, I may take Sarah up on her offer, and move in with her family.
I wish I knew what I should be doing. On one hand, I don't want to force us into a divorce, but on the other hand; I don't want him to ruin my life or our children's. Maybe I'm being too paranoid, or maybe I'm being not paranoid enough. I wish I knew which path to take.
I guess I better learn how to fix vacuum cleaners now . . .
Well, I finally prayed about my marriage again last night. I get the definite feeling that I shouldn't leave Don yet, but that I should definitely start preparing myself to leave.
Then, when I woke up this morning, I couldn't find the bag with the fruit nectars I bought yesterday. I checked the normal places and couldn't find them. I gently shook Don's shoulder and asked him if he knew where they were. I swear I saw his whole body tense up, before he muttered "no".
Later, I was looking for our genealogy charts for our son, and my husband must have assumed I was looking for those nectars because he said, "You might have left them near your sewing machine." Strange place for them to be, considering I never went over there yesterday until I started taking care of the laundry. What's more, when I did find them, they were inside a box. Yes, the top was opened, but Don had the glass cups for our old dining area lighting fixture on all the surfaces around it. There is no way the bag could have "just" fallen in there - it had to be placed there deliberately.
Of all the things to hide from me - something nutritious? It doesn't make sense, but then most of the stuff he has been doing lately hasn't made any sense. I called my dad this morning and told him about the nectars and my ATM card mysteriously disappearing. I told him I was going to talk to a spiritual advisor when I got to church today, and he told me, "Yes, I think you better."
Honestly, I'm worried that when it becomes obvious that I'm not going to let myself be emotionally battered and destroyed, that Don will take his own life. He has always been rather reckless with his physical well being, and he barely takes care of himself. Frankly, I've decided that two main reasons why married men tend to live longer than single men is because they have less of a chance of getting food poisoning and their wives will make them see the doctor.
I talked to the spiritual advisor. He suggested I see if my husband would willing to talk and work things out. He didn't want to counsel a separation, but one person can't keep a marriage together and if Don wasn't willing to work on our marriage, then I needed to do what was best for me and the kids.
I left the kids at a friend's house for the night. When I got home I told Don I asked the church for help. "For what?" he asked in a very defensive tone. I said, "For help to get this family back on track." Then I said that our spiritual advisor was willing to talk to us, either together or separately, and he gave me the same answer in the same tone of voice. I think he wanted me to make an accusation so he could yell at me and make me feel terrible. I went on to say how he didn't seem happy with anything I did. I even brought up the fact that he started acting weird when I started to get the house clean. He just shook his head and glared at the TV set.
To me that said that he isn't willing to talk about things. We did talk to this person last year, before we went into marriage counseling. It's not like I'm being underhanded - Don knows what I was talking about - he just wanted a chance to intimidate me.
But to be sure, perhaps I should bring up the subject again when I get the house under control again. Right now, there is sort of a truce between us--we're keeping our conversations on minor stuff. I don't think he realizes that I'm making plans to leave and I'm not sure I should give him too much warning, because I'm afraid of what he will do. But I am going to get a job and I am going to get myself some transportation. If he can handle me having that much independence, then I'll hold out until summer before insisting on a separation. If not, then I'm getting the kids and I out of here ASAP.
And if after a few months of separation, he still hasn't sought professional help for his self-destructive tendencies, then I'm filing for a divorce. I'm doing my best to make sure my children don't have to grow up with a crazy mother - it would be hypocritical, not to mention counterproductive, to make them grow up with an unstable father.
Any doubts I had that I may have been too subtle yesterday have been totally erased. Don wouldn't talk to me during the five hours or so that I was awake last night, but as soon as I was about to fall asleep, he comes down the hall, kicking a few things around, and stomps through the bedroom to use the bathroom. I froze under the comforter and feigned sleep. He stomped out just as noisily back into the living room.
Then just when I thought he was done for the night, he stomps back in and slams something down. "Here's the checkbook and bills," he says angrily. "You figure out how to pay them all."
I used to think that the reason he used to wait until I was falling to sleep was because it was some sort of natural cycle for him. Now, I believe he chooses that time because he is so insecure, that he wants to give himself an edge over me.
The whole incident set off all sorts of alarms in my psyche. I was absolutely terrified that he was going to do something else. Intellectually, I knew that I had no real indications that he was going to do something, but my body wasn't going to hear a word of it. My adrenaline level was so high that it felt as if parts of my body were detached from me and I was shivering in fear. Try as I might, I just couldn't get myself to relax and go to sleep until I remembered I had a sharp pair of scissors in the bedroom. I put them under my pillow and held them. I still didn't feel safe, but it did help some as I listened to the sounds of the TV and him. I was so glad that my children were somewhere else.
This morning he was still resentful. He slammed a lot of doors and left me a note that I only had $160 to pay our bills with. First off, I know from past experience that when he gets like this, he will almost always make mistakes in balancing the checkbook. Secondly, all the bills that have to be paid this week total less than $160, and if he had bothered to open them and look at them, he would have known that. The largest bill we can actually wait two more weeks, by which time we will have deposited two more paychecks. As for the credit card bill - well, we're so good at paying it that letting it go a month isn't going to hurt anything.
I'm going to rebalance the checkbook today, and if possible, get an updated bank statement. It is possible that we may be that low after the holidays, but I doubt it. Looking back through the checkbook shows that the money I spent during the last two weeks is less than half of the house payment - so even if I hadn't got groceries, it wouldn't had been enough to cover that bill.
I'm okay. Don called me from work yesterday morning, meek as a lamb, and I told him how we could handle the bills. I may have a chance to get my car fixed. There's this one guy who wants a website created for his business and wants to trade auto repair labor for it. I still haven't heard back from him though. I spent yesterday putting up a mock commercial site to give him an idea of what I was capable of creating for him. Don was suppose to work late, but he didn't - so I didn't try to fix the water heater then, though I did ask him some questions about - I'm sure he thought that was my way of nagging him to fix it.
I went ahead and washed some dishes in two large aluminum receptacles I have. It really hurt my back to carry those things filled with water. I woke really early this morning because my pain medication had worn off. I went back to sleep after I got my kids ready and off to school. I fixed myself a very nutritious lunch, during which my dad called to check on me. He told me not to drag things out beyond a year, because if my husband doesn't straighten out his act soon, he's not going to. My dad also wants me to make sure I take the truck with me when I go. You see, it was originally my dad's and he only sold it to us because I'm his daughter. He also gave me pointers on how I could clean out the checking account before I go. I appreciate his concern, but I'm hoping that I don't have to be that petty to leave, but then I might have to. I suspect I will be getting frequent calls from my family for awhile. I called Sarah yesterday and asked her to keep her eyes open for a job for me in her area.
Oh, one more thing! I mentioned Don's habit of waiting until I was falling asleep to talk to me to my dad. He says that my mother does the same thing. I told Dad that my husband does a lot of the stuff my mother does.
Finally, I got to that water heater and it took me a few hours, but I did get that leak to stop. I was so excited that I had to tell someone. Unfortunately, the only person I could get a hold of was my husband - so I called him and told him excitedly what I did to finally fix that leak.
I told a friend once that women are stupid about the men they love. I do include myself in that category.
Anyway, he was shocked and a bit glad, but then he told me that we should wait before finishing the connections - in case the leak comes back after a few hours. The man's such a pessimist.
Big deal . . . I'm going to have hot water tomorrow to do dishes with! The joint is still dry and I'm positive it's going to stay that way. Tomorrow morning I'll finish connecting the sucker up. I already have the rest of the fittings prepped and waiting.
I'm happy. Scratched and sore, but happy.
Finally got all the water connections done on the water heater. Had troubles getting the pilot light lit. Finally got Don to do it.
He's still acting resentful and trying to intimate that I spend to much on groceries, which is funny considering how little I do spend.
I had a weird dream a few days back. Don has created a female robot. He is angry with the rest of the world and wants her to deal with everyone else and plans to destroy the world with her. A friend and I try to talk with him, but he won't listen. He tries to program the robot to kill us, but we take all his files from him and make the robot self-destruct. He glares at us as we try to talk to him and storms off.
I am cautiously happy.
I told the person I talked with last week at church that my husband wasn't willing to work out our problems. He wasn't surprised at all; he just nodded and told me if I needed any help I just had to ask.
Later I was talking to two ladies before a meeting, and one of them asked me about the hot water heater. I had forgotten that I had told her about it going out. I hadn't plan to tell anyone except my "advisor" about my plans to leave for another town after the kids finish this semester of school, but suddenly I found myself explaining that I took care of water heater myself. I tried to joke about how much I had learned about plumbing from the experience. Then when they gave me those soft looks of concern, I told them that my husband was depressed and refusing to get help for his problems and that I was planning to leave. I told them that if he got help before then, that I may reconsider, but I wasn't going to try to second-guess him anymore. They nodded and said that I had to do what was best for me and the children. One apologized sweetly for not realizing how bad things were.
I didn't realize that she even knew things were bad, but I guess that fact I went to church without my husband was sort of an obvious sign in a very family oriented church. I then explained that I would give him this summer to get his act together or I would take more permanent measures. They just nodded.
Then I told them how scared I was and how sometimes I wonder what I should have done before now. The one who apologized said, "Your children are just a joy to be around. No matter what, you have done a very good job with raising them."
I needed to hear those words. They tell me that despite everything, I have been successful in being a caring and loving mother. I felt a great weight lifting from me. I had actually told someone from church about my decision and instead of freaking out on me and giving me a lecture on the sanctity of marriage, I got understanding and compassion. My soul is now at peace with my decision.
But I need to be careful of my actions. Don is getting nervous. There was fear in his eyes when I asked to have the truck for today. Instead, he suggested I make my doctor's appointment late enough for him to get home first. I also cannot find the flyer for a business that I'm planning to do a website for in exchange for fixing my car. Though I hate to jump to conclusions, I fear Don may have hidden it from me to keep me from gaining more independence. I'm not going to fret about it. Instead I will ask a friend to pick up another one for me and keep it hidden.
My son complained again this morning how come Dad doesn't take care of his own things when people are suppose to be responsible for their own stuff. I went ahead and told him that Dad needed some help, but that he didn't want to get help. I explained that because Dad wasn't acting normal that it wouldn't be a good idea to say anything about it to him. My son made a face and nodded. Don had sent him to his room several times this weekend for minor things and left him in there until he begged to come out. I took a deep breath and told him that after school was out for the summer, he, his sister and I were going to move away for awhile to live with his aunt. I explained that it may help Dad to get the help he needs, and that when he does that, we will come back home. My son's body relaxed and he told me that it sounded like a very good idea. Then I told him that there was a chance that his dad still might not get help. I faltered as I try to word what I would do then, but my son nodded and said, "Then you will have to get divorced." I told him "Yes".
He took it so well. In fact, I think he was relieved to know that I was trying to make things better for us. He asked me some question on what we would take with us and how we were going to keep Dad from knowing, so he couldn't stop us from leaving. I went ahead a gave him the answers, but told him that I was going to take care of everything and that he didn't need to worry, because I would do that too.
I also told him that we might leave earlier if I got a job sooner. He took it very philosophically. And we decided not to tell his sister yet, because she tends to tell the world everything. He told me that he was going to find out today when the last day of school was from me. I told him that he might just want to tell his teacher that we're planning a trip then to see his aunt.
Anyway, I have a job to apply for and another to do an example for, as well as a lot of cleaning to do.
The children and I are leaving in 10 days
I was able to get the last appointment at the doctor's office by finally telling the nurse that we had an argument and that my husband was afraid to let me have the truck while he was at work. She made an appointment immediately. You see, a few years back, I came in with a horrendous case of bronchitis. I had been battling it on my own for over two months. She looked me straight in the eye and told me to tell my husband that he better take care of the house and kids and let me get at least a week of complete bed rest, or she was going to put me in the hospital herself.
Well, I made it in and was shock to find that I hadn't had a doctor's appointment for over TWO YEARS. I've brought the kids in a few times, but not myself, even though I have been very sick. Anyway, the doctor's appointment was $55, and I still had the remnants of that cold that knocked me flat before Christmas. So, he prescribed something for my chest infection. What was I supposed to do? Tell him, "No thanks, Doc - I'll just keep the infection." My medicine was a little over $80. I also sent off a payment for the house and the truck - as Don insisted.
When I got home, I told him how much it was, and he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and glared at the TV. I suppose it's my fault I needed medicine. Of course, he won't take any - says they don't work for him. Yet, I've seen him use stuff when he's gotten really sick.
Last night, my son began to shows signs of being sick and this morning it's obvious that he has a chest cold also. My husband decided he was sick too, and stayed home. When I asked about taking them to the doctor, he just sneered at me and said we couldn't go, because I spent too much money. Yet, he insisted I pay the house payment now, because he wanted it there before the 16th and according to him, they won't get it until late this week at the earliest. He gets paid every Friday - we will have another paycheck in by then.
I guess I'm suppose to feel guilty now because I have medicine and my child doesn't. Too bad the pills are too big for my son to even think of swallowing . . . Meanwhile, I've been fixing bowl after bowl of soup for Don, making sure my son got fluids and Tylenol, fixed meals, cleaned some dishes and did some laundry. I laid down for 20 minutes because I was dizzy. I guess if someone had to take medicine it might as well be me - it's not like I can just sleep this stuff off.
Anyway, I called Sarah up this morning, because I didn't know what to do. Her answer: She's coming here the 22nd and moving the kids and I back to live with her family.
A few moments ago, Don came in to inform me that with the state our house is in now, we could lose our children. Strange, he didn't seem to care when the water heater wasn't working. And I'm willing to bet that he isn't going to lift one finger to help me clean this place up.
Well, Don and our son stayed home sick yesterday too. It was probably one of the longest days in my life. Here I was, wanting to gather up things to leave, but instead I was fixing more soup, while Don watched John Wayne movies. It really bothers me that in most of those movies he spanks the woman to put her in her place.
I ended up taking my daughter to school that morning, and while we were in the truck, she started asking me why Daddy was being so mean to me. (Tonight, she handed me a dime and said, "Here Mom - here's some money so you can buy stuff when Dad is being mean.") Then she went on to say that someone should really make Dad see how mean he is so he would stop. I asked her if she wanted to visit her aunt for awhile. She asked, "With Dad?"
I shook my head and said "no" and that maybe Dad needed us to be away for awhile so he could get help for himself. She nodded and said, "When we leave..."
"Visit," I corrected.
She gave me an annoyed look and said again, "When we leave, I don't want Dad to come."
"He won't," I said.
"Good, because he's mean to me."
"How so?" I asked.
"He wants me to sound out words," she said, her voice on the verge of tears, "and I can't sound out words! I have to know them first."
At the time, I had assumed she had been talking about an incident a few months back, but later Don told me in a defensive voice that he had helped her with her spelling while I was at the doctor's on Monday.
"And she did real well sounding out those word, didn't you, sweetheart," he said. My daughter just nodded her head and went on with her homework.
For some reason, I doubt the study session went as well as he presented it. I've explained to my daughter why we have to be careful not to say anything to Dad. She has working very hard not to. I pray that my smart little girl can keep this to herself.
Anyway, after making sure he would keep an eye on our son, I made an excuse to see a friend. At her place, I drunk lots of juice and talked some. I was a lot calmer when I got home, which must had been very apparent, because my husband began to act human again.
Last night, though, the kids asked me why we couldn't leave this Friday, instead of next Friday. I told them that my sister couldn't come until then.
Today, my son went to school and my husband went to work. I gathered up all the legal papers I could find and put them in a suitcase my husband probably doesn't remember that we have. I put some of my clothes in it too. Then I called a friend to have her take it to her place. Before she came, my husband called and asked me to make a doctor's appointment for him and possibly our son. I had noticed that he was actually coughing this morning and thought it strange that after all that rest, he was beginning to sound worse. Frankly, I think he wasn't really sick those two days, but after spending them with two truly sick people, he finally came down with the same thing.
When my friend came, I had a call from school telling me that my son was running a fever. My friend took me there and we picked him up. We couldn't get an appointment with our doctor, so we had to use the walk-in clinic. Don is now on the same types of medications I'm on, but he was able to get the doctor to give him samples of the expensive one, so we wouldn't have to buy it.
Myself, well I started coughing up those chest slugs today with a vengeance. It was funny at the clinic. I sounded so awful, but it was my husband and son who got the appointment. Of course, the staff knew I had been there a few days earlier.
In addition to the suitcase, I gave my friend a diamond ring that someone had given us in exchange for a stand up freezer. She had it appraised for me. According to the jeweler, fair market value was around $250, but if I was to get that, I would have to sell it directly to a buyer. So, we're going to wait until I'm with Sarah before I look for a buyer.
There have been moments today, when I seriously thought that maybe I was jumping the gun. After all, Don has been treating me nicer today. Not lovey-dovey, or anything that affectionate, but he's not treating me like an enemy. But then, my children both found time to remind me about our plan, and I remembered all the people I knew who did what I almost did - I never could understand why they didn't realize that their spouse's good nature was only a temporary thing. Then I had to admit to myself that it was true for me too. Even though I wasn't being berated, he was still harping about our money. I'm sure that once he's feeling better and I'm getting the house clean (which will hopefully be by this Sunday), he'll get weird on me again.
I'm very sick still and very weak. I think I will just worry about getting the laundry taken care of and packed away.
Yesterday morning, Don was still being considerate, but by lunch he was a cretin again. He made me go pick up his paycheck from work, even though I was the one coughing up stuff. Then he made me deposit his check. He wouldn't even let me use his ATM card to do it. When I asked, he got this panicked look in his eyes and told me to fill out a deposit slip and go through the drive through at the bank. I made him fill out the deposit slip. Then I deposited it and took care of something else. I probably shouldn't had, because I felt a lot sicker when I got back home.
Last night, my brother-in-law's wife called. Apparently, he's decided to divorce her. No warning - just "I'm moving to such-and-such. Where do you want me to drop you off?" We began to compare our husbands' behavior and decided that we married into the wrong family. Both are obsessed by money, even though they swear that it's not important to them. Both believe that dental crowns are a waste. Both will wear the same outfit day after day. Though my brother-in-law changes his underwear more. Both make cruel remarks and act surprise when they upset us. Both made promises to us earlier on in the marriage, which they now do everything they can not to keep. Both believe that if you're not bringing in money, you're not contributing, but then when you do, they start acting nervous and tell you not to worry about it. Both refuse to go to church and both develop crushes on other women, though they have yet to follow up on any of them. Both say they're tired when we want to get romantic and yet expect us to be willing whenever they want to be. Both have their names on our credit cards, yet neither has put our names on theirs. Both make fun of their wives whenever we try to look nice. Both can't stand to be wrong about some sort of fact, though neither one were that great in their science classes. Both will deny anything that might make them look bad, and what's more - they're absolutely lousy liars. Both have slowly tried to make sure that their wives are cut off from the rest of the world with no way to support themselves.
Today, I am even sicker. I had to get some stuff from the drug store. I was really too sick to go, but I learned a long time ago that even if I'm coughing up a lung, Don will insist that he is the sicker one. I don't even bother to argue about it anymore. I hadn't even driven out of the neighborhood, when I coughed up some more gunk. I turned around, went back home, and changed shirts. Then the truck wouldn't start. I asked Don for possible reasons, but he just got annoyed at me. So I called up a friend and had her take me.
Just a few moments ago, Don went outside and checked the truck for himself. He believes something is wrong with the battery. He didn't seem interested in getting it fixed until he realized that I would probably be too sick to go to church tomorrow. But I may just be getting more paranoid.
Long time - no update.
I'm over most of my chest infection, I hope. I haven't had much of a chance to do what I wanted to this week, because Don's been home all week. At least the truck is working again. It needed a new battery. Now, I just need to figure out whether we're going to have to take it from Don's work, or if we'll just need to make an excuse to use it. Don will not tell me if he's going into work tomorrow, and was a bit annoyed when I asked.
I've been doing laundry. I was able to pack one suitcase and get it out while he was sleeping, but I will probably be doing the others tonight after everybody's asleep. I'm also packing a box of my writing stuff and we made a plan for getting my computer over to my friend's for a new parallel port.
As for getting the kids out of school, everything was ready when I got there. Everyone in my daughter’s class gave her hugs, and I saw a few running to the back of the line to give her more hugs. I'm positive that there were a few of those who gave her four hugs. My son's class gave him a few hugs too. Everybody pretty much had a good idea what was going on. They just asked us to come back and visit someday.
Tomorrow's the big day. I hope it all works out...
Well, I'm with Sarah and her husband now. Last Friday, I got up at 2:30 am and started to finish packing the clothes. Then I snuck them passed my sleeping husband and out into the backyard. Just as I finish, a rain/sleet storm hit us. Oh, well . . . things didn't get too wet. My daughter woke up while I was doing this and helped me some. About 4 a.m. we laid down, in case Don did decide to go back to work, but he didn't.
With the wind still blowing at 6:30 am, I told Don that it was too nasty outside for the kids to wait at the bus stop and that I was going to take them to school. The kids packed some of their favorite toys into their backpacks and I took them over to a friend's house. Then I went back home. I actually followed the mother of one of their friends back into the subdivision. Then Don asked me to cook him some breakfast sausage, which I did. I then fixed myself some breakfast.
He asked me to go to the pharmacy and get a prescription the doctor gave him a week before - in case the over-the-counter decongestant didn't work. Worked for me, I also picked up the other two months of my Pamelar prescription while I was there. Then I went to Kmart and got some stuff for me and the kids.
I had told him that I was taking my computer over to another friend to get a new parallel port put in (which I still need) at 10 am. He was sleeping when I came back, so I manage to get out some bedding and a few other things into the truck, as well as my printer and scanner. I dropped some of it off at the friend's place where the kids were and sat around and talked a little until Sarah came. Then I went to Don's work and picked up his paycheck for him and went back home.
Someone from the kids' school called while I was gone and confused Don with talk of the kids going to another school. I don't know who this ditz was, but I pretended to call the school and told Don that they had confused our children with someone else. Then I finished eating my lunch while he signed his paycheck. He wanted me to call the doctor's for a note saying that he had to stay home because of illness. Why he couldn't had gotten it while he was there is a mystery to me - as is why I had to be the one to call and ask - he was perfectly able to call them himself.
Anyway, I waited for the doctor's office to call us back - getting antsy the whole time. I manage to take out three bags of trash and do one load of dishes, before I pointed out that if we wanted the paycheck deposited that day, I should take care of it then. He agreed and let me make out the deposit slip. I left the checkbook on the table with my ring inside and left. I only took $200 for the kids and I. I filled up the truck and went back to where everyone else was. We had to wait until after 5 p.m. to leave, because Sarah's husband was flying in to help us drive. So we took care of a few things and then ate dinner before leaving.
It was after midnight when we got to Sarah's place. The next morning I called my parents and a friend to let them know we were okay. I found out that Don hadn't called anybody Friday night. When my father told me I left him, he was pissed off and started to demand that I give him his truck back. Then he ranted about us losing our house, which is stupid because we have always been on time with our payments and without me and the kids he should have no problem paying the mortgage. Yes, I was the one who wanted the house, but I didn't want to be a prisoner in it, with parts of it torn up.
He didn't even ask if the kids were all right. Dad didn't tell him where we were, so he probably thinks we are with them.
Don's brother caught a clue last week and apologized to his wife and got their problems sorted out. Surprisingly, he's on my side on this and asked if it was all right if he and his wife stayed in contact with me and the kids. I said it was fine with me - I'm not a spiteful person, no matter what my husband may think right now. Of course, I don't expect my mother in-law to be as understanding towards me.