A little too real for some, maybe.

I'm pretty pissed right now.  Please leave a message after the tone. 

I heard Ron talking, and went into his room, thinking he was calling me.  Not.  Quite. 

He was listening to "The Chat Line". It's free to call, but I believe the men have to pay to talk to the women, or leave them messages.  Ron's always trying to get me to listen to things he's taped off the line.  One memorable one featured a married woman, saying she wanted another man, and shouting at her husband as he walks in the room. 

I think it's like the alcohol; if I listen, then I am OK with it, and he can do it.  I have told him, I don't want to talk about this, and if you do I will stop the conversation.  I'm a pretty major gossip and he tries to entice me sometimes, but I always say NO.  "But the guy and his wife...".  NO.  And I walk off. 

The entire time I've known him, he's loved those lines.  He actually maintained a "dating account" while we were dating, because "I wasn't sure if your parents were going to split us up, and I wanted some options if they did." 

No.  Wonder.  When I first moved in with Ron, I'd pick up the phone, and a woman would hesitantly ask who I was, and could they please talk to Ron.  Ron would go in the bathroom and talk to them, in that "explaining things" tone of voice.  This happened several times. 

Had I not been born with brain damage, and had a self esteem at the time, I would have kicked him into next week and moved BACK in with my parents. 

Yes, I have expressed extreme displeasure.  He knows I view listening to this line as cheating.  But since HE doesn't view it that way, it's alright. 

His latest was a real winner "I'm going to get a prepaid cell phone, then I can talk to them on that!"  I told him he'd better go back on the waiting list for assisted living if he planned to do that. 

Not only that, I was sitting here on my computer.  "What are you doing?"  I told him, blogging.  Not about what. 

Every 2 minutes, he's bugging me for something.  I finally told him, could you please leave me alone?  I don't bother you when you're in the room with your door shut, but every 2 minutes you are demanding I get up and come "help" you with something. 

Enter tantrum, name calling, and door slamming.  [big sigh]

Ensue internet bickering over reasonable accomodations. Throw in a Down-on-my-Knees depression and ensuring add-ons, and it's a rather difficult day.  Enter tantrum, and the consumption of Bad Things. 

UGH, I need more soda.  And throw out the last Bad Thing. 

Done. 

Tomorrow, if he is willing to listen, I will give him a rule:  "If I am sitting at the computer, don't bother me unless it's an emergency" and then define "emergency" is not "Guess what they're doing in Kenya?" 

It isn't fair.  Ron expects to ignore me 23.5 hours a day, unless we're at work, but when he wants attention I'm supposed to drop everything.  However, if I want to talk to him,  I'm not permitted to wake him up, speak to him when he's on the phone, or break any of his rules.  I'm supposed to let him know I'm there and quietly go away, and if he chooses he will make that HORRID summoning noise WHEN he feels like talking to me. 

I'm sorry he may have felt neglected just now, but neglect is definitely a two-way street.  I'm the other woman, somewhere in there behind his beloved 2 liter bottle of vodka, the chat line, reruns of "All in the Family", and CNN. 

YES I'M DEPRESSED.  YES I TOOK MY PILLS.  I'd hate to see me without them. 

I can't even tell him I'm depressed!  He gets all angry and shouty.  It baffles me, it's MY problem.  Why are you throwing a tantrum? 

Would it kill him to say "Would you like to talk while we sit in the garden?"  Or "Can I do anything for you?"  "I'm sorry you're hurting" - God knows I use that enough on him!  I get, with his bad wrist, he can't exactly give me a foot or neck rub, but he could at least ACT like he cared. 

Instead he turns it all around and makes it about him.  "Why did GOD AFFLICT me with a BROKEN woman?"  Then tries to say "Well, I'm just angry for you."  Funny, it looks like you're angry AT me.  It FEELS like it. 

Let's see, I told you how I felt, and at the end of it all, I felt worse.  Maybe I should stop telling you how I feel.  Maybe it's a good thing I DO have God, because He sure knows He's the only one to support me.  I am valuable in God's eyes, but I don't think Ron values me at all. 

I'm not surprised the other guy made a move, last year.  I'm not surprised I rejected him.  I'm not a whore, sneak, or cheat.  I found the whole idea revolting.  I would never put another woman through the pain of adultery. 

[crying now]  I forget sometimes, it is OK to cry.  Any normal person would cry in my shoes.  In some regards, it's very difficult.   I have a lot of responsibility; without the good brain to back it up.  I have mental illness, and an unsupportive husband.  I have a husband I must constantly accommodate, who bitterly resents accomodating me. 

No wonder I want to stick my head in my pressure canner and scream for a while.  Here's an odd fact: when I was in a hospital, for depression, almost 30 years ago, they had a "Quiet Room".   That's the common fact. 

It was the padded room you hear about on TV.  Visitors always asked about it, and then say "Boy, I wish I had one of these".  Every single visitor. 

Kind of creepy.