digsite

Tuesday morning was pretty tough for me. I might have written about it earlier except my husband knows about this blog now. (Hi Dennis!) I wasn’t so sure that I wanted him to read how it was for me. Still don’t. But at the end of the day I wouldn’t be serving myself if I held back. This blog isn’t about keeping secrets from myself.

Tuesday morning, I got up as usual and started to get ready for work. And as usual, I knew I had no cash to take to work with me. I couldn’t find my credit card in my purse so I walked back into the bedroom and was going to check Dennis’ wallet. He always has money in there. He openned an eye so, instead of just grabbing his wallet, I asked if he had a couple dollars for me. He said no. I didn’t take his word for it right away because he’s been known to give short answers when he’s trying to sleep just to get you out of his hair. I asked if he was sure and he said yes. Still unconvinced I asked again. Something like “really? are you sure you don’t have anything in there?”.

He then became visibly angry and started to mumble some shit about how I, “yet again“, have to keep asking questions instead of “doing as I’m told”. He sat up and grabbed his wallet and kept on spewing more sewage out of his mouth. I just couldn’t stay and watch him spread his joy around any longer so I left the room. I feel like I’ve had a front row seat to his moodiness far too often. I’m tired of watching the same scene over and over. I don’t like the feeling of having to walk on eggshells when he’s in one of his moods either. I can understand his feeling a bit annoyed at being asked 3 times but having said the above comment was uncalled for. As I’m told? Did he think I was a dog? I’ve never pretended to be a submissive, obedient little housewife either so he was totally out of line. I got my stuff and got out of the house and into the car. About 30 seconds later he came out after me and openned up his wallet and pressed it up to the windshield as if to say “SEE?! I - H A V E - N O - M O N E Y !!”

I can’t describe the mix of emotions I was feeling at that moment. I had walked away from the situation because he’s impossible to reason with like that. I probably would have been OK at that point after a half hour or so of fuming, but it followed me out and into the open. My walking out was not enough to make him leave it alone. He had to come out and put even more effort into being a dick. More effort than it would have taken to have said “No, I really have no money. Why don’t you see for yourself”. I just sat there and didn’t know what to do. After a couple minutes I realized that I had forgotten my work door pass in the house so I had to go back inside. Once inside I got the door pass and then decided to look for my credit card where I had last seen it on my side of the bed. It wasn’t there. Giving up on the credit card, I started to walk out of the bedroom when the baby started to stir. As I left the room he said “thanks!!” As if I had done something to purposely wake her. I was only moving the bed sheets back and passing my hands around on the bed to try and feel for the card.

When I openned the front door to leave the dog zipped through my legs and took off. Yeah, that morning was going from bad to worse. At first I was just going to close the door behind me and not tell him the dog was out because I knew he’d just say something else that was hurtful but I thought if he didn’t know about it, the dog might end up stuck outside all day. So I turned back and said that the dog took off. He said something else at that point. Another snide comment I’m sure but I can’t remember what it was. It may have been another “thanks!”. But I just hung by the door and just didn’t know what to say in return. He’s real good at making my day go to shit when he can’t think of anybody but himself. After a pause I said something like “maybe I should just shoot myself in the head. That would solve everything”. He replied with “maybe I should shoot myself“. That was it. My day was shot. I just stood there in the doorway unable to open my mouth. I had to open my mouth and say something back. If I hadn’t then I would have felt completely defeated. I told him to have a great day and got back into the car.

I realize this was only a marital spat, but I felt like there was no hope for me. I was alone in the world and nobody had my back at that moment. I felt what I can only describe as a mixture of hopelessness and shame. I can understand the hopelessness, I’m no stranger to that but shame for what? For letting this happen to my life? For letting myself be stepped on like some cockroach? Whatever the reason, it was the same feeling I had when my dad caught my cousin molesting me when I was eight and instead of doing any of the half dozen things you might imagine a parent would do under those circumstances, all he did was beat me for it. I’m not going there obviously and I don’t see the connection but it was the same feeling.

I just sat there in the car and just couldn’t function. If that’s what a deep depression is like then I can understand why people would kill themselves. I just sat there for what seemed like forever. I didn’t want to stay at home, but I couldn’t leave the driveway either. I made several suggestions to myself of what I should do next and none of them felt right.

I thought about driving to work and getting coffee and deciding after that whether or not to go to work. But that would have meant me standing in line with other people. Then I thought I would just call in sick and then take Jada with me to the park and spend the day with her. But that would have meant standing around near other people. I thought I could just disappear to the mall or super walmart. I needed some new shirts anyway. But that would have meant being around other people. I thought of just going to work but I didn’t want to be seen by my coworkers. I didn’t want to be where people were. This is the same feeling as after what I described when I was eight. I didn’t leave the house for a week after that happened and nobody came to talk to me about what had happened either. I was left to deal with it on my own. But I’m not going there right now. right? ok.

Eventually Dennis came out to the car and said he was sorry. I’m glad he did but I expected he would anyway. He always apologizes if he thinks he was wrong but that wasn’t nearly enough to undo the mental state I was already in.

I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t go to any public places. I might have had to park in a parking lot and gone to sleep. But because he apologized I felt I could go back into the house again. But I still couldn’t shake those feelings all day. It wasn’t until he left to go to work that I felt I could take a deep breath. There was a moment when Dennis walked up to me and I thought he was going to hug me. I felt such anticipation too like some kid at a toy store until I realized he was just going for the remote. When my daughter said she wanted a hug later on I had to fight back the tears. Her hug felt good but it was over too soon. I thought, here’s this kid who doesn’t understand the first thing about life and who I can’t talk to about anything and she’s all I’ve got. She’s the only one who can really love me.

Maybe there is a connection to that experience when I was eight that I’m not seeing. A victim being made to feel guilty? Shame for letting something bad happen to me? I don’t know. And I really don’t feel like putting more thought into it right now.