Friday, July 31, 2015


I had a nice little mania going for a couple days, but I crashed today into "mixed".  link  It's pretty awful; I was nearly entirely depressed, yet outgoing and chatty.  Everyone thought I was "fine". 

Some would blame it on Ron.  He's been drinking a lot of (to me, very expensive) liquor every night, falling down drunk.  He left his phone in the middle of the floor one night, and last night I found it in the sink.

Ron loves his phone.  Last night I just turned it off and kept it until I heard him awake and sober, later.

Right now I'm angry, but it's just pathetic too.  I don't see how he can degrade himself like this.  He does these nonverbal grunts and gurgles at me, falls down, eats food, and gets angry the next day when it's "gone".

He's yelling at me now because I asked him (very politely) to turn the music down.  He got verbally abusive and began cursing me.  Why?  Because I said "I don't feel well, can you please turn down the music?"  I also mentioned "I don't want the neighbors getting bad habits".  

Now Ron's saying I'm a [censored] because I am mentally ill, etc.  "What's your mood?" - nasty, accusing tone. 

"Very tired"  I replied.  I mean it. 

Ron's playing "My whole day's all ruined because of you" and pouring more, I don't know what the hell it is - whiskey?  "Hopefully I won't have a blackout tonight".

At least he stopped calling them "Fugue states" - as though that made the blackout classy.

Anyway, I slept OK.  I have been having some back pain in my lower, right, back, at the bottom couple ribs.  I have no idea why. 

The other vendors had stashed our water delivery on a top shelf, two weeks in a row.  I had to reach up on tippytoe, grab the water, pull it forward off the rack, and lower it without dropping it - times 20 cases over the last couple weeks. 

The State finally took the dead microwaves away, so I have enough room on my lower rack - about 2.5 feet above floor level (half a meter?).  Did I just abuse my lat?

I should remind you, space is at a premium.  I have about 34 square feet of floor space, including two floor-to-ceiling racks.

Is my mattress going out on me?  I sleep fine, and I never wake up with back pain (just the usual endless full bladder runs to the toilet) at night.  It's a little stiff in the morning. 

Can I work?  Yes.  Do I want to see a doctor?  Not particularly. 

I don't have any sharp, stabby, pain like a kidney stone, it's more a dull ache.  My urine is fine.  I think it's just bad body mechanics at my computer chair (I just caught myself slumping). 

I made sure to clear the low shelf for the water deliveries - that's fixed.  My current in-use microwaves all came from Walmart, so I can just throw them away when they die (but they're still going!). 

It's aggravating.  What's worse is talking to Ron. 

1.  I am "sickly" and defective, like his mother.  He makes sure to call me by his mother's name a few times, as an insult.  Let's see, she worked 50 years, raised 4 kids, and helped raise her grandkids.  Ron's always said she was an impeccable housekeeper and excellent cook, too.  Sounds like a pretty strong woman to me. 

2.  It's all God's fault.  He's a -this- and a -that- and everything that goes bad in the world is all God's fault (including Ron's blackouts, because "He won't come back faster").  He goes on about this endlessly.  "Normal" people can only take about 30 seconds before trying to shut him up.  I'm expected to consume an endless diet, without complaining.   I try to remind Ron, you will answer for every word, one day. 

3.  If I complain about Ron's constant negativity and hostility towards God, I am "trying to tell him what to feel" and then I REALLY hear it. 

4.  He goes back to sickly for a while. 

5.  Then it's Oh, shit, how will I run the business.  I get a massive guilt trip if I can't work that day, which has only happened a few times (generally severe vomiting).   If I can work I still get the lecture because I might not have been able to

I am not into power issues; but in many ways I have the power in the relationship.  One time Ron was being a creep to me and saying I didn't "do anything".  He was profoundly, verbally abusive for long periods of time every day, at a time I was severely depressed.  I didn't do his laundry for about 10 days.  When he yelled at me about the lack of clean clothes, I said "Oh, I don't do anything, remember?" and "made" him wear dirty clothes to work.  I resumed laundry duties after he apologized. 

Yes, it was petty and small, but I still believe it was necessary.  He's never said that again. 

Ugh.  I just want a quiet, drama-free life.  I want to feel my husband supports me.  I'll even settle for "My husband mostly supports me."  Or "My husband usually supports me."  - because I am a flawed human just like everyone else. 

Instead, I feel as though he doesn't support me.  At all. 

Well, I chose him.  I have to live with that; and I will. 

I remind myself every marriage has it's problems and you very seldom see those issues manifest.  I guess I'm an oddity. 

I just had a boggling thought: if Ron had a caregiver, they would quit him.  He gets very upset when things don't go his way. 

Anyway, last night he got pretty blotto, left his phone in the sink.  I didn't find that until later, when the sink started yelling at me about a low battery. 

I was like, I swear I took my Haldol! #$@!   Why am I hallucinating?  Then I looked and found it.  [laugh] 

He was pretty tragic.  He has a very bad habit of drinking in the kitchen, sitting on his mobility device, having one after the other after the other.  I have asked him, suggested very calmly "Perhaps you could have the drink and go back to your room.  It doesn't seem to end well when you have one after the other, in the kitchen." 

I have also said, I'm worried about you.  One day you're going to fall and hurt yourself, if you break your arm I'm going to have to call 911.  Then you'll end up in The System.  You think I'm bad - wait until the social workers get ahold of you! 

He says it won't happen. 

Last night he sat on the walker, covered in food, slumping off to the side.  I took him to the Man Cave and encouraged him to get into bed.  He did. 

I didn't want him to fall.  I don't want bad things for him.  I want him to find some kind of peace. 

I also answer to God.   I wish Ron could see God the way I do. 

Today, while he was sober, moods came up.  I mentioned I feel he is often depressed, and I would love it if he consulted with a prescribing doctor like mine. 

"Anyone in my shoes would feel this way" he said.  "I'm not interested". 

So much for that. 

This morning, we went out for breakfast.  Harris County Smokehouse. 

I have heard lovely things about their breakfast. 

I don't eat eggs, since I almost died from a bad scrambled egg at IHOP in 2004.  They just make me gag. 

I got a waffle with a side of bacon, delicious.  When they brought the bacon Ron made coveting noises. 

"You can share!" the waiter cheerfully suggested. 

I picked up a piece of bacon.  "I don't love him that much." 

I did save a little for the cats, Biscuit and Gravy loved it. 

Someone loves me.  :p 

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