Okay, so he has this thing. He hates when I eat in bed. Okay, it's his thing, whatever. But he's such a jerk about it!
And we were in bed. And I was watching a movie and he was watching a movie on his iPad. And I (this is a little TMI, sorry) I had a Pap smear today....which makes me a little queasy and crampy. So I grabbed a small snack to help settle my stomach....and I didn't really think too much about it because he was wearing headphones! But he got all pissy and stomped off. And I asked where he was going, and he was such a jerk!! "I hate eating in bed! Maybe I'll come back when you're done."
And off he went....and I'm sitting here stewing. And of course my first thought is how porn addicts treat their wives like crap. So of course I can only assume he's going to look at porn. And when I hear him head toward the basement instead of the living room, it's just confirmation, right! And an hour later he hasn't come back, so of course the bastard is relapsing! But I'm too prideful to go down and check because I would have to admit that I care of that is what he is doing. And on the flip side, I would have to admit that I don't trust him at all.
Bastard. Lying, flipping, porn addict, masturbating bastard. This is what I've been turned into. This is what I've become: a bitter, angry, untrusting, she'll of a woman who cries every time her husband walks down the stairs.
I hate myself, and I hate this. I feel like I'm setting him up for failure so that I can point and say, "see! I told you so!"
I hate him in this moment....because I'm so scared and ashamed. I don't know how to ask for help because I don't know what help I need. I just know that I'm floundering in this ocean of doubt and suspicion and I don't know how to get back on dry land.
I'm alone. So alone. I hate that he has done this to me. I hate the piteous looks the bishop gives to me. I hate the smiling, content faces of the happy couples all around us. And I hate that I can harbor so much hate in my soul.
I don't know what I want. I just know that I can't live like this....dancing on the precipice between happiness and insanity. I almost wish that I could jump over the edge because at least that action is certain. Misery is an easy constant, which is probably why so many people don't fight their way out of it. It's easier to stay at rock bottom than it is to risk falling again as you try to climb up. There's a certain level of comfort in that.
But I'm still on the edge of the cliff. I'm still holding on for dear life. And I'm so tired. I wish I knew when it would be over....how long it will be until I'm safe again. I wish I knew if I will ever be safe again. I don't have any answers. I'm drained and for tonight I might let go...just for a second....just to see what happens.
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