headshrink. february 8 & 9.

am i crazy?

how is this even possible?

i am sitting here. and i am thinking about him again.

i'm thinking, plotting. i'm creating ways to see him, and forming words into sentences.

trying out different phrases.

'hey, coffee. i'm thinking about going to this thing. are you going to be in town for it?'

no, too blatant.

'hi, coffee. i'm thinking of going to this thing. are you going to be there?'

no. ugh.

'hey. i got a ticket to this thing. i was wondering if i'm going to see you there.'

too much?

it all feels like too much. that's the problem.

nina was right before. i am still kicking my own ass about december. about that one fucking question. the one i didn't ask. i had every reason to, and i was drunk enough to. and i lost my nerve. and have regretted it everyday since.


why the torment?

nothing happened for like 7 years. and then one tiny blip. and here it is, full swing, all over again.

like no time has passed.

it makes me doubt everything about myself. every decision.

it's the whole birthday thing that makes me sick and makes me want to not say anything at all.

the only solace is that it might not have been seen or read. but i highly doubt that.

and that is exactly why i don't want to ask.

i just want to go.

and see.

and hope. and wonder. for 26 more days. until that day.

i'm counting. i'm planning. i'm hoping. i'm wishing.

things have been so shitty for me lately. i should be grateful, though. i have my health, i'm doing okay in the largest sense.

but mentally, and emotionally, not so much.

i've been sleeping a lot. which for me, is a little alarming. i've been in bed early for at least a week now. avoiding ever and spending as little time around him as possible.

i definitely have this feeling that there's no coming back from this for me.

it SUCKS. i just want him to end it already. just call it. time of death. do it.

and i don't know why i'm taking this role. i don't think that i could live with the guilt, i guess. i just want to push him so far away from me that he thinks it's his idea. and his decision.

i don't know. not all of our days are bad. but the good ones are just good days like you'd have with a friend. or a relative.

they aren't romantic days, or days where i feel appreciated. they aren't days where i feel turned on or have the desire to be close to him.

those days never happen anymore.

my days are spent freaking out over the little shit. being completely irate over insignificant little details. stuff that no one else would even notice. but that make me fucking CRAZY.

the thermostat. the dirty dishes. cleaning the entire house, after he lost a bet and was supposed to clean the first floor for me. not once, but TWICE.

it's so exhausting.

today i did something. i don't quite know how to feel about it yet. i did it because i was angry. i did it because i was daydreaming. i did it because i thought it would make me feel better.

and now, i blame it for keeping me up.

i separated our books and movies on the bookshelf in the dining room. mine from his.

in a way, it feels like letting go of something i've been clinging onto for a very long time. in a way, it feels like giving up. in a way, it feels like coming to terms with the road ahead of me.

and in a way, it feels like a childish thing to do. a thing that, tomorrow, i'll wish i hadn't done.

and then, in a way, it feels like a tiny step toward taking my life back.

because all day today, with everything i moved around to clean, with every shelf i organized, i was moving his stuff, organizing his stuff. for him. because he has been promising to do it for a long time. and i just couldn't take it anymore.

how i have to clean this house top to bottom every other weekend is completely beyond me. it gets so completely destroyed in just one week. and i'll be so determined to have a weekend that i'll let it get even more out of hand for a second week before caving in and dealing with it.

AND IT IS ALL HIS SHIT. none of it is mine.

it is just crazy.

so that's what i mean about taking my life back.

i have so little here. i've written about it before. and yes, i'm messy. but i also clean up a few things a day. and if it was only my stuff i was contending with, it would be much easier to maintain.

i just can't seem to get enough time away from him lately. and enough space between us.

he barely sees me, and when he does i'm just bitching about the laundry list i compiled in my mind all day when i was away from him, fuming.

he still hasn't touched the marriage book. and he's given me his word on at least three occasions that he would. but then i guess he smokes weed and forgets to.

i wrote it out the other day in my journal. these are a few typical conversations. keep in mind, this is completely unprovoked. i'll be sitting, reading, sometimes even smiling...

him: why are you so upset?
me: 'i'm not upset.'
him: [insert comment]. is that why you're so upset?'


him: why are you so sad?
me: 'i'm not sad.'
him: [insert comment]. is that why you're so sad?'


him: why are you so angry?
me: 'i'm not angry.'
him: [insert comment]. is that why you're so angry?'

and then, THAT is what makes me angry/upset.

it's like the self fulfilling prophesy.

it's annoying as shit.

last night, i literally wrote that out. and within two minutes, he walked upstairs and sat down next to me. i closed my journal, and he asked why i was upset.

i totally snapped at him.

i said that i wasn't upset. that i'm tired of him trying to create imaginary problems. that i'm just reading. doing my own thing. that nothing is wrong. and that when he asks me why i'm upset or mad, it just makes me upset and mad. when i wasn't before.

he said i'm not communicating with him.

i said that i have told him so many times what i'm angry and upset about, that he ignores it, doesn't act on it, and that i'm sick of hearing myself say it. for me, with him, it is almost always, 9 times out of 10, about him smoking weed. endlessly. all day long.

this week, i came home from work to get the car, before going back to work. it was 130 in the afternoon. the middle of his workday, and he had just lit a huge joint.

i couldn't believe it. i just stared at him and shook my head, before leaving the room.

i thought that was bad. but yesterday i woke up at 745 on my day off, because i'd gone to bed so early the night before, and he was already smoking weed.

he went back to bed. i guess that time, it was to 'help him sleep'.

unlike the times when it's to 'help him relax', 'help him unwind', 'help him calm down', 'help him stop thinking about his day'.

there's a list of excuses a mile long.

and with the hiding.

he ran out on thursday. he was an asshole on the phone, i could tell he hadn't smoked. and then i got home, and could tell that he had. the next day, there was none laying around, where he usually keeps it, but there was a part of a joint laying on the table.

the next day, no weed in its usual spot. different joint on the table.

and then today, no weed in its usual spot, but a new joint rolled on the table. so i asked him where the weed was, and he said that he was out. that that was all that was left.

i don't smoke much. or often. a few nights a week, i'll take the tiniest bit and smoke it. but this weekend, it wasn't there for me to take. and i'm fine with that. i had a beer, so i didn't need it. but it made me notice that there was none.

i give him shit about going through it so fast.

i think he thinks that if he hides it, either 1. i won't notice, or 2. that i won't smoke it, or 3. that he can hold it over my head if i ask for it ('see? you want to smoke weed, too').

all problematic.

anything in moderation. well, most anything. i'm okay with that.

but he can't do anything in moderation. not weed, not ice cream. not cereal. not cigarettes. not alcohol. not other things.

and it just adds fuel to the fire under me. the one that is getting too hot to stand near.

i just want to leave the fire. let it burn if it wants to. but be nowhere near it to watch it burn out.

THAT WAS YESTERDAY. sunday. well, technically today, because it was 1 am. to back up...

i wrote that after i went to bed at 930. i started to fall asleep reading nate's manuscript. turned off the lamp. that was 1030.

and promptly had a panic attack.

it was for no reason.

i had been drifting off into sleep, and then it hit me. i tried to calm myself down. just by breathing and thiinking that there was nothing to be freaking out about.

i seriously felt like i'd just done a line of coke. even though i never have, it's what i imagine it would feel like.

i got up after 15 minutes of trying to slow it failed. smoked a few cigarettes, poured a tiny glass of wine. a little more than a shot glass would be.

and finally fell asleep after writing that whole thing out.

this is today:

i had my second shrink appointment.

just re-reading what i wrote last night brought back my heart racing.

so i guess now that i know what it was about.

so i was telling her (my new doctor) what happened last night. she asked how things had been going with him since the last time i saw her (2 weeks ago). i told her that it was all the same, but that now i felt different. i told her about the bookshelf and alot of other things i wrote about last night.

i told her that i feel myself separating from him. doing things away from him. physically separating. mentally separating (i made a list of things to take if i leave and a list of what each of our expenses would be).

and toward the end of the session (an hour that literally felt like 30 minutes, tops - i felt cheated until i saw that it had been a full hour), she asked me a question. after i'd basically complained about everything that i've been upset about, about his history (so she knows where my fears come from), about my family's reaction to these discussions when i went home in december.

she asked what's good about my marriage, why i want to work it out. and i just stared out the window. because i couldn't think of a single thing. i laughed because i was nervous, and said i'd have to think about it and get back to her. i said that we have fun sometimes, that he's funny sometimes. i said that i love him.

but i couldn't think of a single thing that i get out of it.

i feel like i give everything to him, and get nothing back. and i talked fighting tears.

and three minutes later she was telling me that i should schedule my next appointment on my way out.

it was literally one of the last things we talked about. i was shaking, i was so upset by it.

i told her that i was shaken up, and that i'd have to calm down before i got into the car. i made a tori mix for my road trip with hum and had put in it to calm down on my way there. i was running very late, and driving in the snow aftermath was slick and bright. so i was rushing, which induces panic in me. and smoking. and driving.

anyways, i got in the car after the session, and the song that was on made me want to pull over and cry my eyes out for a while. but i fought tears and drove slow in 5 oclock traffic instead.

and then the next song was almost as heartstring-pulling.

i guess it was cooling, then cloud on my tongue.

they just felt so sad and heartfelt, both were live versions, so her voice just struck something in me. and it was awful.

i was so hungry when i got home, all i wanted was food. so we ordered pizza and he went to pick it up.

when i walked in, we went upstairs to smoke. and low and behold, a fresh joint. he had just told me yesterday that (pointing at next to nothing) that was all he had left.

and i called him on it.

i said 'last night you said that was all you had left' (pointing to a different little tiny bit of weed) 'yet, you have a new joint. what is going on? why are you hiding this shit from me?'

he said he's not hiding it, but didn't answer my question, and said that he just put it in a different place. i reminded him that he said he was out yesterday, but that he wasn't and he went into this other detailed explanation about tiny bags of weed and not buying how much he usually buys. still not explaining how he was out but wasn't.

and this is the shit that fucking PISSES ME OFF. just don't lie. don't hide. be honest.

i cannot wrap my head around it.

so today when i got home, he asked how my appointment was. i told him that i was literally completely depleted. exhausted from a crazy rushing day. told him about the panic attack last night. and that i needed food as soon as possible.

that is pretty much it.

how can i not quantitate what i get from my marriage?

she also asked me towards the end of the session if i really wanted to commit to couples therapy. i told her that i did. because i do want to try to be happy with him.

she said that i sound resigned/defeated - i forget the word she used.

and i said that i'm just tired. which also made me choke up.

i'm just TIRED.

she said that it's a huge committment, and that she always warns people that it requires a lot of work and dedication if you're going to do it.

and what came from me, via her questions, is that i think it's a kind of a test. because in a way, i don't expect him to actually follow through with it. like something would come up and he wouldn't end up going. or he would go and then make jokes about it or belittle it after. which is what he's already doing with my own therapy.

he asked what we talked about. and because i'm so tired of everything, i just told him. the whole session was about us. as in, me and him.

and he asked what upset me so much, and i told him that she asked me what i was getting from our marriage and that i couldn't answer her.

which of course surprised him. and he is 'worried about me'. and i asked him what he gets out of our marriage. and he says that he gets love and companionship and that there's nowhere he'd rather be than with me, even if we're just watching tv.

i don't know. he said a couple other things. and i mentioned that she asked what i expected from him. and i told her that i want him to bathe. and help around the house. and smoke weed less. and that i don't feel like i'm asking too much.

to which he replied that he's helping more and bathing more and sleeping in bed every night.

i don't know. she asked me (when i couldn't come up with things) why i wanted to stay married. and i said in a roundabout way that it's because it's easier and because i don't want to rock the boat.

and she said, 'because it's the easier thing to do is never a reason to stay married.'

another thing we talked about was that being with someone like him is nothing new to me. that i always have been with boys who were 'broken'. because i thought i could fix them, i guess. that i always went for the musician types with no car and no money. that i was always the one doing the supporting.

i told her about him being the first one who didn't run when i mentioned marriage.

she asked why i married him, and i told her that i honestly couldn't remember anymore. that i guess it's because i was brought up to think that you get married and have babies. that's what you do. that i was the last of my friends to be married, that they all had two kids by the time i got married. so that it just felt like the next natural step.

i told her that the week before and the week after, he told me that he thought it was a mistake, because i wasn't really in love with him, just with the idea of getting married.

which i denied at the time, because i didn't believe it. but that i now realize is probably entirely true.

we talked about finances, too. how tangled everything is. i told her about my decision to open a savings account in secret when i get my check for mileage.

and i told her that sometimes i just want to take his cards away from him, and give him an allowance for the week, to limit what he spends on weed. and she said 'i thought you didn't like being his mom. isn't that just another thing that would make you feel that way?'

to which i replied, 'yes. but what's the alternative? him spending our money when he feels like it, and not being honest about what he's spending it on? at least then i'd have control over where my money goes.'

we discussed our separate but joint business and personal accounts, and thinking about it now, i guess she was planting a seed in my mind. that if i can get our accounts separated in that way, that it will make things easier later if things end up the way i really believe they are going to.

and that's good for me to think about.

because it can be set up to be one less thing to detangle later.

she asked if everything is in both of our names, the house, etc. and i said yes. because it all is. and that thinking about having to separate it all is the most stressful aspect of the situation.

i told her about wanting him to call it, to end it. and that it would make me feel less guilty. i told her that i'm afraid he'll die without me, and that i feel like i'm throwing him to the wolves if i just leave him. because he doesn't have the skills to pay bills and manage money like an adult.

and the thing is, she did point it out in a way... but none of these are reasons to stay together.

and it's not that i think my life is just going to be magically better if it is over. but it won't be this. and i'll have a chance to be happy.

after all of that, i got a package from my mom again.

it was a valentine's package. she told me on friday that she was sending it.

and when i opened it, there was a card on top.

and she drew this big heart and wrote 'tea loves ever'.

and it made me feel like i was going to throw up. i took the card out and hid the envelope.

and then i'm digging through a massive pile of candy. seriously, the box weighed in at about ten pounds. and at the bottom, there was a pair of naughty dice.

and the sides facing out read 'ten little kisses' and 'in the kitchen'.

and luckily he was sitting on the couch across the room from me.

because i emptied out everything else in the box. and took the 'empty' box out of the room, and buried the dice in a box of my keepsakes in our bedroom.

i have to remind her not to mention them.

today sucked. i think my mind is starting to decide what to do, and very very slowly, how to execute the plan.

and this box from my mom just made me want to throw up.

i wrote about it in my journal but nowhere else, last night. i am fucking DREADING valentines day. and in just over a month, our anniversary. like, it makes me feel ill.

completely sick inside.

i don't know what either will bring, but i know that for me, personally, gone are the days when i had warm fuzzy feelings about either event. and now it's just one more thing on my long list of things that i dread.

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