Scenic route

I was furious.  Ron got drunk and made a lot of noise last night, loudly yelling gibberish every time I went to sleep.  I kept yelling at him to stop, telling him I was trying to sleep, but he was too drunk to process.  I was pissed. 

I finally fell asleep around 10.  Then the alarm went off at 2.  I got up and did my morning routine.  I wasn't hungry, and I had a headache, so I didn't eat. 

I thought I would wait on breakfast-and-my-antidepressant until I felt a little better.  I had intended to put the antidepressant in my fanny pack but it didn't work out. 

Ron woke up at about 3:30.  He was, as expected very groggy and slow-moving.  The driver banged on our door around 3:45.  Paratransit had changed our pickup time, moving it up 20 minutes.  We were now past our pickup time and were in danger of losing the ride.  I told Ron, he cursed a lot, at me, at paratransit, at the driver (not to his face, thank God), etc. 

I finally rolled him out to the cab at the very last minute.  It was the "dialysis run" driver.  He runs around picking up dialysis patients, we had to get 2 of them before he took us to work.  We finally got to work and I began to move the carts.  Ron was in a vile, toxic, mood. 

He kept "crapping" on me, so to speak, just dumping a constant stream of toxic mood waste in my direction.  I found it a testament to my medication that I didn't respond.  I just did my work. 

The delivery came.  I ate a banana, some nuts and raisins, and 3 T of coconut oil.  If I'd had my antidepressant with me, I would have taken it.  I discovered aspartame didn't make me hungry if I drank it before eating.  The repairman came.  Eventually, we left. 

It was pretty hot waiting outside in the sun, but our driver came pretty quick.  We went home. 

I told Ron what had happened and request he "dial it back" so I could get a good nap today, and sleep tonight.  He had a tantrum and said it never happened. 

Times like this I am glad God will expose everything on judgment day.  He really treats me like crap. 

I took a nap and had a pretty good one.  I even woke up early.  I got up, checked my computer, and got ready to go out.  I put my antidepressant in my pill bottle along with my evening meds, then put it in my fanny pack, so I could "eat" it with dinner. 

Ron had made a trip (last night, before he got drunk) to go to the bbq place.  I was looking forward to a big plate of links. 

By the way, I am still down 5 pounds.  The other vendor's wife said I looked a little smaller but I think she is just being nice. 

Ron eventually woke up, got ready, and we left.  Ron asked the driver to take the "scenic route", as paratransit was planning on leaving us there for an hour and half.  The driver did so. 

We got there and I ordered a pound of links.  I can (and did) eat some today, and eat the rest tomorrow.  Ron got a sandwich, and a beer.  I was "bad" and did get a diet soda.  I ate and took my meds. 

We talked for a while.  Things were going pretty well until we were about to leave.  I gave him my lidded soda.  "Jesus, Heather" he exclaimed, and went into a rant on how I had "overfilled" the cup, calling me names, etc. 

I never would have stayed with Ron if I had children, and if he got me pregnant I would adopt it to a loving family.  I would never want my children growing up to think that is the way to treat, or be treated. 

The verbal abuse is never very far away.  When he talks about it, he says he "can't help himself", yet I notice he never acts like that when my father comes to visit.  It's a lot more controllable than he'd like to admit.  We went outside and waited on the driver, who was a pretty nice guy. 

I talked to him all the way home.  It was nice to talk to someone who wasn't calling me names, cursing at me, and verbally abusing me.  If I were a lesser woman I would leave Ron for another man, one who would treat me better.  That's not to say I wanted to leave him for the driver, just that the driver was, to me, symbolic of all the nice guys out there who wouldn't dream of cursing me out.   Again, I am consoled by the fact God will expose all of this on judgment day. 

All I do is help Ron, you think he would be more appreciative of the fact.  I'm the only one who is there for him, 24/7/365.  I work sick.  I work depressed.  I work when I'm tired, when he's kept me up all night, and more.  I make sure he has food to eat, clean clothes, and more.  I take care of the cats.  He has all the fun of petting and treats, while I'm paying for and lugging home the cat food, changing the box, buying more litter, lugging that home, etc.  I put up with a lot, and when I do receive a word of appreciation it is done with the intent of manipulating me. 

I expect to be treated with dignity and respect.  I am not.  I give it, though.  I could share things on here, oh, could I.  But I won't, because I'm better than that. 

I wish he were.