Dark thoughts for the morning.

I woke up depressed.  Ron is in a bad mood.

Happily, I did have the energy and motivation to get showered.  I had to wash my hair twice, it was pretty tangled at the ends.  I guess I didn't do a good job brushing yesterday.

At some point, when the money is right, I need to get a haircut.  I'm not cutting it off, just a couple of inches.

After I got out of the shower I had a bowl of corn pops - and here comes the tabby milk monster.  She kept trying to get at my food while I looked at the computer, so I moved.

She wailed sadly as I left the room, then I said MILK?   She knows that means I will share, and I did.  I sat down in my chair, and she jumped in my lap.  I worked my spoon around her little striped head, licking up the milk.  She even ate a corn pop.  They put corn in cat food.  I'm not worried.

Today may very well be one of those "I had to take 2 Wellbutrin" days.  Doc says take 2 "If I need them" but discontinue "When I get manic" - which is generally the next day.

I don't know what's up with Ron, he's very gloomy, broody, and toxic.  Happily my meds will be on board by the time he wakes up.

If I complain about the negativity, he says I am "Telling him what to feel" and "Controlling" him.  But when I'm negative he always tells me to stop.

Double standards.  I realized recently his drinking really escalated after my diagnosis.  He used to look down on me a lot - I mean it was really bad.  I was "sub-level" and "overly emotional".  I remember how he used to smirk when I'd "lose it" yelling or crying.  Then he finds out it is a medical illness.

He couldn't deride me anymore - I'm disabled.  Not only that, I got on board with medication and did a damned good job of managing.  It completely threw the dynamics out of whack.

He couldn't look down on me, to make himself feel better (one reason I think he has always picked damaged women).  Not like he used to.  So, he escalated the drinking.

My aunt had mentioned once Ron had really started drinking after he got sick with the neuropathy, and I realized she was wrong.  He had a lot of problems drinking in 2007, you can see it in the blog.  I did the math and it tracks right back to my diagnosis.

Does that make the drinking "my fault"?  No.  It's his problem, not mine.

I just think it's really sad that he reacts to me getting better by becoming a blind drunk.  That, when I mention having problems with depression he reacts by yelling at God "I didn't damage your wife".

I'd like to think I accepted Ron as he is.  I'd like to think that.  Only Ron could say, or God.  I do get a little tired yelling at him from the other room, and then he gets upset that I'm yelling, but he's got nerve deafness and can't hear me unless I yell, and usually not even then.  Or when I tell him something and he forgets it, and then he yells at me.  Or he tells me "Repeat it until I acknowledge it" and I start repeating and he tells me to shut up, he never said that.

I get tired of it but I don't hate it, or him.  I'd like to think Ron can appreciate me for who I am, right now.  I just wish he could react with empathy when I tell him I am depressed.  That the cats would get in my lap, and sleep with me, instead of him.

Dark thoughts for the morning.