She could probably get away with killing you

It's interesting: I can completely understand the hows and why's of something, expect it, even, and still be upset.

Today I woke up with the ongoing horrible headache. Sugar withdrawal. I went to work with Ron.

My job involves a fair amount of heavy lifting. I did the absolute necessities and realized my headache was getting a lot worse.

One time I went to work with a migraine, it evolved, and I ended up vomiting in a bucket all the way home. Ron yelled at me for "embarrassing" him and told me to never work like that again.   I got a lot more empathy from the driver. 

I realized the bending-over-and-picking-things-up was going to be a killer, and if I had to do much more lifting I would end up vomiting. So, I told Ron, "I can't do any more lifting" and explained why.

He launched into a big tirade about how I'm "so sickly" - I haven't had a sick day in YEARS.  My last sick time?  2006.  3 days.  The flu.  How he needs someone "dependable", etc.

If I didn't have the headache I would have yelled at him. As it is, I told him he could take the donuts off the cart, himself, and put them away. I reminded him of how he didn't want me to "embarrass" him by vomiting again, and he had a choice, he could put up his own donuts (a job he has done many times), or I could do it and ride home vomiting in my bucket. More tirade.

Now, I understand a couple of things:

Ron is a narcissist. He does expect the world to revolve around his wants, needs, and desires. Unfortunately, his childhood really cemented the "I'm the prince" attitude - his parents were told to never let him cry, or he'd go blind. He got away with murder for several years.

Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)


Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love  [in particular, the ongoing fantasy about the wonderful, "normal" woman who will satisfy Ron's every need]


Believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)


Requires excessive admiration


Has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations  [!!!!!]


Is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends [yes]


Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others  [my big gripe today]


Is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her


Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

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Ron hits all of that; recently he has been complaining about my weight (a little over 200) because he "deserves better than a fat woman". Etc, etc. You get the idea.

I should realize, I guess: when I get sick, Ron is going to take it as a personal attack on him. He will see it as my failing him, not a need, on my part, for support and compassion.

I will not get love, support, and compassion from him when I'm sick. It's like asking a jar of peanut butter for a glass of milk. I can ask, hope, and expect all I want, but it's still a jar of peanut butter. It will never be a glass of milk - and that's a very sad conclusion: Ron will not ever be supportive of me when I'm down, sick, or weary. He will always turn it around, make it about him, how he has been betrayed and failed, etc.   Always.  I have 19 years of proof. 

I finally told him "Why don't you act as if someone is watching you?" as he railed at me, and God, for giving him "defective, sickly" etc.

He does know how to assume the "devoted husband" role if it is clearly defined. For instance, when I had surgery, he was very attentive the first day, then started drinking to stupor day two and I had to take care of myself.

God help me if I do need some care. I will not get it here, that's for certain.

I told Ron, I have a headache because I am getting off sugar - then I got a lecture on how I must be "weak" because Ron doesn't have a problem with sugar. So, I'm that weak, huh? I got a migraine because I cut out the sugar?   Very demeaning attitude, when I was asking for help.  He made me feel about an inch tall.  REAL nice.

I have NEVER done that with him, regarding the drinking.  Never.   

I told him, I'm doing this to get healthy, please hang in there with me, (hoping I would get some support) and he just started cursing at God for giving him a "defective".

Peanut butter. He is a jar of very-self-absorbed peanut butter.

You know, he used to get mad at me for handing out Bibles and candy to the drivers, because they wouldn't pay attention to him when I did? He would make some very ugly comments "I guess she wants to make you fat" stuff like that.

Anyway, I finally gave in, ate something with sugar, and the headache started crawling off. Ron made a big production out of "I needed something at Radio Shack, but YOU CAN'T GO so I cancelled it!"

I just thought, yes, your part is a lot more important than my pain. Thank you.

Sadly, it is obvious to me: he really thinks my life should revolve around his, like a planet, serving him, pleasing him, and adoring him.  UGH. 

We finally got home, I took a nap. He turned up his TV loud, to "punish" me, but I slept fine anyway. I guess I was supposed to complain, and he'd get to play victim because I "couldn't" go to Radio Shack to get the part he needed, so he could listen to the TV quietly. Therefore he HAS to play it loudly.  [rolleyes] 

The only way win that game is not to play. He likes to bait me and see me respond, then he can condemn me and sit in jugdgement. 

It's all your fault; that's how it goes for Ron. Anything that goes wrong ends up being my fault.

Woke up, started taking out the trash. Ron got mad because I took out the kitchen trash, about half full.

He interrogated me why I had done this. I told him "It has meat stuff in it, it will stink".

He then told me I had to put all meat trash in a separate trash bag everytime I cooked, because "trash bags are expensive and I can't afford for you to waste them." I mumbled something and then I realized.

"Ron, I buy the trash bags. Why are you complaining about wasting money? It's my money." I also told him, since they were "my" bags, I would throw them out whenever they reeked, regardless of capacity.  He got really mad, had a tantrum, and stormed off to his room. 

I found it funny, I went out to do something in the yard and when I came back he was finishing up yelling at my empty room.  Snort. 

Ugh. Just stupid, stupid, stuff today.

I know I will never win the lotto: because, if I did, I would be out of Ron's life so fast his head would spin.

It's not surprising, either - after witnessing a day of "the treatment" a friend of ours told Ron, "You know, with Heather's mental illness, she could probably get away with killing you". 

I, however, intend to keep ALL commandments to the best of my ability.