Weak

Ron called me "weak" last night, because I find verbal abuse hurtful.  Apparently objecting to profanity laced derision, and saying I find it painful, makes me "weak". 

At first I was hurt.  Then I was pissed.  Now I'm laughing. 

And WHY of all things, does he have to have "big discussions" when I'm trying to sleep?  I never, ever, wake him up unless I have a delicious food item or he got a book from the state library.   I think it's just another mindgame technique "You'll sleep when I say you can".  [rolleyes] 

 Oh, and he's sorry he cursed me out at Walmart, in front of everyone. I think he's sorrier that he did it and made an ass out of himself.

Anyway, today I am pretty amused at the title. 

I survived years of horrific neglect that cost my mother custody. 
I survived decades of physical and verbal abuse. 
I survived decades of untreated, catastrophic mental illness. 
I have battled dozens of suicidal depressions. 
I have overcome serious brain damage inflicted by my mother's drinking while pregnant (I heard she had about a "fifth" a day of hard liquor during). 
I live a good life, even though I can't drive or make significant income. 
I take my medication faithfully, in spite of vicious side effects. 
I have grown and nurtured a faith I guard fiercely. 
I do what I can to help others, in spite of my own problems. 
I share my faith in one of the worst ghettoes in Houston, on one of the worst corners.  Often, by myself. 
I have helped grow a business that has made it through hard economic times. 
I've lived frugally, enabling us to buy a home.  And keep it. 
I fought to take care of Ron after his accident, when everyone ran screaming. 
I helped Ron make it back from his accident.  And I don't hold it over him.  I never say "After all I've done for you, how can you?" 
I trust God to avenge me. 

So yeah, if that makes me "weak" I guess I fit the bill.