I’m all about finding the meaning where there really isn’t any. Signs from nature, the universe, god – if you will. I don’t have any kind of real faith, but I believe things happen for a reason. I look for signs everywhere. I got one the other day.
I can’t recall the precise scenario for some reason, but I caught my wedding ring on a door, I think. I remember catching my ring on something sort of near my face. I remember that it came back and dug into my finger and hurt like hell. I remember thinking it would bruise. It has, terribly.
So really, what better sign is there that your marriage is in the shitter than to have a huge painful bruise right under your wedding ring?
The weekend has been terrible. Josh and I went out Friday night to a little bar right down the street from the house. I had hoped by not going to an expensive restaurant that we could keep the check at a reasonable price and still get decent food. The food was great, the drinks even better. But between the two of us we had TEN. I was drunker than I’ve been in years. Not healthy for me at all – I’ve got problems with my liver because of the very heavy drinking I did in my early 20s. Even worse because I had no control over what was happening. Josh was far drunker than if I’d just let him get his stupid beer. And the tab was almost $100. This is totally unacceptable.
Saturday morning we had the gigantic getting up battle again. This was just like the old days – yelling, lots of yelling. The entire weekend has been strained.
And I fucking hate that kid.
Today I thought perhaps we’d spend some time down here listening to real music, not that bullshit she seems to think is music. Josh and I took turns playing songs on the computer for her. She hopped around the place touching and moving damn near everything. She snooped through all of the bags I had set on the counter with Christmas presents in them. She touched everything on my desk. She grabbed one of my coasters and threw it all over the place. She stood up in the middle of my grandmother’s antique occasional chair – something I have told her repeatedly not to do.
I’ve reached the conclusion that I really just can’t fucking stand children. I can’t. They’re noisy, they’re messy, they’re rude, and they have no taste in anything. I can’t do another weekend like this. And I’m really not sure I can do Thanksgiving with her. The thought of having to see her again so soon just literally gives me a headache.
And I know Josh is going to come home wanting sex. I can’t do it. He put on cologne right before he left. Right before he left to go see his ex wife. The good cologne that I love and bought him special for his birthday. Another sign.
I told him yesterday that I’d help him move next weekend.
I don’t think he believed me. He’s not acting like he believed me. He keeps telling me that things will get better. Everything is going to be fine. Uh huh.
I didn’t sleep last night. I tried. I took my pills when I was supposed to, I laid down, I took the other pills. Josh turned everything off and got it pretty dark and quiet. Then the brat came down because she’d had yet another nightmare. I was done, I couldn’t sleep after that. This is the 4th time in a row that she’s ended up sleeping on our floor because of a nightmare. I told Josh he needs to tell the ex about this, it really doesn’t seem right. And she has headaches all the time. I think it’s because the ex was still smoking pot when she found out she was pregnant. I think she brain damaged her daughter. All I know is I can’t do it anymore.
I’ve got a therapy appointment tomorrow morning at 9. After that I’m going to spend the day with Gemma. She’s making scones and we’re going to have tea. We’ll probably knit and crochet while we talk. I’ve really been looking forward to this. I need this. I need another girl to talk to and commiserate with. Someone who’s also mental and has been in this kind of relationship and knows the kind of hell I’m going through. I don’t trust anyone like I trust Gemma. I’d be lost without her. She’s a kindred spirit and I love her dearly.
I just wish my brains didn’t feel like scrambled eggs right now. I’m what Josh would describe as “itchy, twitchy, and bitchy” – a thoroughly accurate description. I don’t feel like I have any control over my faculties. My living space is an utter disaster thanks to that child and I don’t have the slightest inclination to do anything about it. If Josh hadn’t pushed the issue I wouldn’t have showered or gotten dressed today. As it is I changed back into pjs as soon as he left. I’m utterly depressed and I have no desire to do anything.
I’m thankful that I have this week off work. I’m hoping to be able to kick my own ass and get some things done. I need to get this place back in shape before I completely lose my mind and I need to get the nieces’ birthday presents made. I’m not sure what all else I’m really capable of doing. I’m trying to run some laundry right now. The only thing that may save me is that there’s a pair of pants in that load that I really want to wear tomorrow. I have to have some kind of self-respect and not going running about town in my pajamas tomorrow.