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Things are not really going well, and it makes me sad to say that. I had the worst weekend I’ve had in a very, VERY long time. Josh and I just couldn’t seem to get along to save our skins. I pulled out every skill I could muster to make things right again and was met with nothing but sarcasm and a thoroughly shitty attitude.

I pointed out to him that I only really get sick anymore when I’m stressed, and that the stress was very clearly coming from him.

“Go take another fucking pill then, I can’t tolerate you.”

In essence, everything since 4am on Saturday has been my fault. I’ve been picking on him. I’ve been a bitch. I’m intolerable. I haven’t done a single thing right.

I haven’t slept since Friday. I’ve been sick almost non-stop. My other leg is now flaring and I’m having to wear a support garment under my jeans just to keep the opening from draining too bad. And then this morning I didn’t pay close enough attention and poured sour milk all over my breakfast and didn’t realize it was sour until I’d finished it.

So the point I’m at right now with him is contempt. There is no love anymore. I am being decent to him purely because it requires less effort. I’ll say whatever hollow words the conversation requires to keep him from yelling at me again – it means nothing. But…

I’m not paying any of his bills anymore.

I’m not helping him with his school paperwork or getting registered for the next set of classes.

I’m not making any more sandwiches for his lunch.

I’m not folding or putting away any of his laundry.

I’m not picking up after him anymore. He’s a grown fucking man.

I’m not making any more of his medical appointments, including with his shrink.

When we first got married I would go through times when I didn’t think it would last at all. I’d get pissed about something, yell at him, he’d yell back, and we’d work things out. This is the longest things have been bad, and it’s been a very long time since we’ve had something escalate like this. But I’m done. I deserve better than this.

When he insisted on calling at lunch, at the end, he said some paltry thing about how he was sorry and things would be better. Had he said that shit Saturday morning, maybe I’d have believed him. But now, 2 days later – no, that is just more bullshit that means nothing coming from a man who has spent the entire weekend shitting on the best thing that ever happened to him (his words, not mine).