Last night's dinner of champions consisted of chocolate chocolate chip cookie dough and super chunky peanut butter. It was very good, although I did feel like a bloated whale when I was done. Come to think of it, I still kinda feel that way.
Followed by yet another night of sleep deprivation.
I'm really hating life right now. I feel so blah and apathetic. I just don't care anymore. Okay, that's a lie. I care that I don't care. I worry that I don't care. I'm worried about next week. I'm leaving him alone for four days. I'm having trouble scheduling his MRIs any sooner than that and he'll have to find his own way there. If he doesn't drive himself, I don't know what he's going to do. I know he won't call a cab. I guess there's the option of me not going, but this has been planned for months. The tickets are paid for and non-refundable. I haven't seen them in years. YEARS!!! Gah! I hate this. Really truly hate this.
What if my being gone is the last push he needs to actually go through with his threats? What if I come home to find him gone? How do I live with myself? This is almost too much to bear right now.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I am going to lose my job
Seriously. I had to call in late again this morning. My husband's disability is going to be the end of my job and then we'll be SOL. My job covers our insurance and the rate he's going...oh, I don't even want to think abut it.
But then, once I get to work, I can't concentrate worth crap. He'll call and totally throw me off. Call this person, call that person, did you ask this? Why not? Call back!
And the dreaded "I'll only keep you a minute." of course, his minute is like an hour.
I get so upset when we hang up and my stomach gets tied in knots and then I'm worried about going to the bathroom, because I can't poop in a public restroom. So I worry about whether or not the handicapped bathroom will be available when I get there and if not, what do I do then? Go to the ladies room and hope no one is in there? Oh the agony of poop shame!
Sometimes I hate my life. No, strike that. A lot of times I hate my life. It's completely within my ability to change it and yet I don't. There is some masochistic streak in me that feels this is the life I deserve. I'd never kill myself, though, so no worries there! I'll just bitch and moan about my life here.
But then, once I get to work, I can't concentrate worth crap. He'll call and totally throw me off. Call this person, call that person, did you ask this? Why not? Call back!
And the dreaded "I'll only keep you a minute." of course, his minute is like an hour.
I get so upset when we hang up and my stomach gets tied in knots and then I'm worried about going to the bathroom, because I can't poop in a public restroom. So I worry about whether or not the handicapped bathroom will be available when I get there and if not, what do I do then? Go to the ladies room and hope no one is in there? Oh the agony of poop shame!
Sometimes I hate my life. No, strike that. A lot of times I hate my life. It's completely within my ability to change it and yet I don't. There is some masochistic streak in me that feels this is the life I deserve. I'd never kill myself, though, so no worries there! I'll just bitch and moan about my life here.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Is it not obvious...
...that my saying "good-bye, see you tonight!" is not a cue to start nattering on about the 101 people you want me to call today? (and can I just say how much I adore the word "nattering"?) When I say good-bye, that means I need to walk out the door. I have a bus to catch and they don't come that often. You don't have any place to go.
...that if you speed up to get past me you should just keep going at that speed and not get in front of me and start meandering? Really? I missed my train because you just HAD to get in front of me on the escalator and then, at the top, decided to stroll to the platform, even though the train was there. It was right there! Bitch.
...that having me change your lunch reservation a gazillion times is not a good use of my skills?
...that if I tell you someone else is working on a project, it is pointless to continue telling me all the corrections that need to be made? I'm not making them. I didn't do it. In fact, I have no idea what the heck you're talking about!
...that if you have me make a phone call for you, and I have to make a decision on the fly, I can't guarantee that you'll like my decision? If you want control, make the call yourself!
...if you choose to subsist on a diet of cookie dough, Ben & Jerry's Fro-Yo, and Benefiber cherry pomegranate mix-ins, you are going to feel like shit and your pants will be too tight. I'm looking at you, Gamina-girl! Get back on program!
...that if you speed up to get past me you should just keep going at that speed and not get in front of me and start meandering? Really? I missed my train because you just HAD to get in front of me on the escalator and then, at the top, decided to stroll to the platform, even though the train was there. It was right there! Bitch.
...that having me change your lunch reservation a gazillion times is not a good use of my skills?
...that if I tell you someone else is working on a project, it is pointless to continue telling me all the corrections that need to be made? I'm not making them. I didn't do it. In fact, I have no idea what the heck you're talking about!
...that if you have me make a phone call for you, and I have to make a decision on the fly, I can't guarantee that you'll like my decision? If you want control, make the call yourself!
...if you choose to subsist on a diet of cookie dough, Ben & Jerry's Fro-Yo, and Benefiber cherry pomegranate mix-ins, you are going to feel like shit and your pants will be too tight. I'm looking at you, Gamina-girl! Get back on program!
Monday, October 10, 2011
SSDD
So husband is stoned out of his mind on prescription drugs (his). Sadly, they don't knock him out. No, they reduce him to the mental capacity of a drunk five year old. Joy. He hears things and sees things and gets very recalcitrant when I try to steer him to bed. He thinks he's helping me by getting up and getting his own water but, in reality, he just pisses me off. He has no concept of time when he's in this state. It takes him half an hour to just get to the edge of the bed where he might be able to stand up. Then another fifteen minutes trying to stand up, then he stumbles into the kitchen, passes out on the floor, eventually wakes up and some how makes it back to bed.
Call me a cold hearted bitch, but after two years of this, I don't go running to pick him up off the floor anymore. I'm the one working and I need my sleep. He gets to sleep all day. I don't. I'm also the one who picks up after him when he pours an entire bottle of water/tea/protein shake (now THAT'S fun!) all over himself, the floor and the sofa.
Good times. And he doesn't understand why I get so upset and why I'm drifting away. He's a jerk when he's drugged. An absolute jerk who makes a mess and does things like leave the refrigerator door open all night. The other morning, after being woken up several times and only getting something like four hours of sleep, I got up to find that he had opened every window in the apartment and pushed all the shades up. I was in my underwear and we have close neighbors. I have no idea what he was doing but any neighbor up at that hour got a peep show!
How do caregivers maintain any semblance of sexual love for their partners? It's like he's my child, not my husband.
Call me a cold hearted bitch, but after two years of this, I don't go running to pick him up off the floor anymore. I'm the one working and I need my sleep. He gets to sleep all day. I don't. I'm also the one who picks up after him when he pours an entire bottle of water/tea/protein shake (now THAT'S fun!) all over himself, the floor and the sofa.
Good times. And he doesn't understand why I get so upset and why I'm drifting away. He's a jerk when he's drugged. An absolute jerk who makes a mess and does things like leave the refrigerator door open all night. The other morning, after being woken up several times and only getting something like four hours of sleep, I got up to find that he had opened every window in the apartment and pushed all the shades up. I was in my underwear and we have close neighbors. I have no idea what he was doing but any neighbor up at that hour got a peep show!
How do caregivers maintain any semblance of sexual love for their partners? It's like he's my child, not my husband.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
This is my life
I'm really not the whiney type. I tend to keep things inside until I can't hold it in anymore. Then I have a horrid case of word vomit all over some unsuspecting person. That generally results in my poor victim running scared, never to be seen or heard from again. Not unlike a one night stand. Except at least with a one night stand there is a chance of pleasure!
So, I try to keep quiet. It doesn't work, though. I end up eating in order to keep from talking. And from the amount of food I eat, I obviously have a lot to say.
I don't know what I want out of this. A place to vent? A place to escape? A place where I can talk about my life where my husband won't find it because he's basically computer illiterate?
I don't know. As much as I want to bitch about the shambles of my life, I'm afraid to go there. I'm afraid to admit how bad things really are. I know there are so many other women out the just like me. I wish I was strong enough to do what I need to do. But I'm just not yet. I have too much guilt and too little self-respect. I keep telling myself I'll get there one day but I think I'm lying to myself.
I'm trying very hard right now to NOT make cookies. It's difficult.
So, I try to keep quiet. It doesn't work, though. I end up eating in order to keep from talking. And from the amount of food I eat, I obviously have a lot to say.
I don't know what I want out of this. A place to vent? A place to escape? A place where I can talk about my life where my husband won't find it because he's basically computer illiterate?
I don't know. As much as I want to bitch about the shambles of my life, I'm afraid to go there. I'm afraid to admit how bad things really are. I know there are so many other women out the just like me. I wish I was strong enough to do what I need to do. But I'm just not yet. I have too much guilt and too little self-respect. I keep telling myself I'll get there one day but I think I'm lying to myself.
I'm trying very hard right now to NOT make cookies. It's difficult.
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