only I’m not having any fun. One day he’s sober and willing to be reasonable, the next he’s drunk and a complete moron. I dread doing what needs to be done to make it stop. I am so scared of what is going to happen, but I am also scared of what will happen if I don’t make this stop. I know I have support from my mom and friends, which is something I am certain a lot of people do not have and I’m grateful for their patience and offers of help. It still doesn’t make it easier. It’s like I’m frozen with fear at the thought of telling him to get out (if he’s been drinking, I see it being a very very ugly matter) or of just filing for a divorce and having him served at work. That would be a horrible thing to do though.
Why can’t he just fucking care enough about all of us to go get the help he needs??? What did we do to deserve this pain? Why am I responsible for him giving up control to scotch?
Ok, enough of the pity shit. I have work to do and no real certainty of even buying Christmas presents this year yet. If I can pull off paying the mortgage on time tomorrow it will be a freaking miracle. I’ll be happy with that for the day. Then I’ll start working on how to get gifts. Ok, I’m sure I’ll get the girls gifts. Somehow. I’ll sell a body part. Whatever. I have to get out of his way of looking at things. The mortgage, electricity, cars…yes, they are very important and have to be paid. BUT they are not the only things that are important. He focuses on what he’s not able to pay so much that they become everything to him. And to make them all go away and so he can stop his brain…he drinks a half bottle or more of scotch (it used to be a whole bottle but it’s taking less and less these days to make him pass out). I mean, I KNOW why he does it. I can see the whole evil cycle. I just can’t make him think that there is any other way. And after 14 years of being his only real emotional support…I’m just too fucking beat up and worn down to pep talk his ass out of this. I know that I put up with this shit when we were in our 20’s and had no kids. I was probably wrong for not running down the street screaming like a maniac. Regardless of that, I didn’t run. I stuck around. I saw something inside him that fit a part of me. Now, I wasn’t the most stable individual. I was depressed because the ex had taken off with my son and I had no idea where he was and no financial means of finding him til just about the time I moved in with my current husband (otherwise known as the drunk). I was having hormone problems triggered by extreme stress and I was just searching for someone who was carefree, adventurous and made me feel like I could be a better person. My husband did that. He was that. I miss my husband. I don’t have a fucking clue who this soul is that is currently living in his body but I know I don’t like him. Not one bit. He’s mean, spiteful, he sucks the energy out of an entire house by entering it, he’s miserable, he hates everyone and everything, he makes you regret speaking of any positive experience because it reminds him of what he’s lost and somehow he’s convinced that nothing is his fault and the world is out to squash him. I know everyone says the old person won’t come back, but my eternal optimism says he’s GOT to be in there. Somewhere. Please can’t he be in there somewhere? I’d crawl through the muck and mire, in the dark, as far as I’d have to crawl just to help him come back from where ever he’s been sucked down into. I really would. And I’d drag this horrible creature who has been living in his skin with me and leave it there to rot.
ok, now that I’ve completely and utterly depressed myself over the fact that I’m married to a stranger that I hate and i’m never going to see the person he once was again…i do have to work. Really. I’m not just running away, I just don’t have the energy to run right now.
:)
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