I won't let him get me down

Well, I feel a little better. I had a decent nap, Bubba-cat came and cuddled for a while, and when I woke up Frosty loved on me for a while.

Ron was a little ugly today. He thought I was "short" with the driver. I'm sorry, I was giving very clear directions and she just wasn't listening. If you're that dumb, you shouldn't be talking on a cell phone while driving. You certainly shouldn't be talking on a cell phone while driving in an unfamiliar area and trying to get directions. The company has a NO CELL PHONES WHILE DRIVING policy. I didn't call and report her for the cell phone. I didn't yell at her. If my voice got a little short well, I'm human.

He called me some names and later apologized. Not for calling me "A stupid bitch" but for "Trying to do God's job for him." OOOO-KAAAY. I think they have pills for a God-complex. Then it was an hour or two of endless bitching on how nothing is real, why is God making him live his life, he doesn't want to be here.

I told him, screaming at me, getting in my face, and calling me names, while he has alcohol in his hand, is not the way to convince me that he can "handle it".

Sometimes it's enough to make me wish I hadn't told them to "Do everything" at the hospital. Then he cooked popcorn, which I hate. Ugh. The stench is all through the house. He said "You're fat, why should I care if I get fat, too?"

Later on, it's "Will you make me some of those delicious beans, Heather? They are so good." So I put some on to soak in the fridge, I'll cook them tomorrow. I'm glad he likes my cooking and I choose not to see myself as hateful.

I wonder, does he hate me for being content with my life? I'm serious as a heart attack here. He says "You're really happy doing that, aren't you?" in this odd tone of voice. Resentful? Envious? Shocked? I don't know. It happens several times a week. I don't get it. I just say, yes, it does.

I've dealt with lots scarier things than him; things inside my head. Him, I can get rid of in less than a year if I chose (divorce, which I'm not considering). I could get dressed (in my long nightgown right now) walk out of the house, and never come back if I chose. I choose not to.

The only way I could get away from the dragons in my head was by killing myself (thank God Mom drilled me into abstinence from alcohol and drugs). I'm still alive. Scarred, but alive.

It takes a lot worse than him to scare me or drag me down.