It's been day-by-day for so long, I've grown inured to the sense of dread. Life as I know it will be ending soon; replaced with something much worse.
And so what? After three plus years of waking up anxious and going to sleep sick, I'm just ready for it to be over.
That said; I am sinking low these days. The flood of irrational behavior has turned our house into a swamp and I don't have the inclination or strength to keep bailing. Two days ago I'm banned from going upstairs because MW almost tripped over the dog; yesterday I'm told we're no longer allowed to use the garage door opener because MW almost backed into the door. The HD wall paper is back with a vengeance - there isn't an inch of the bathroom wall or fireplace mantle not covered with taped-up "reminder" notes.
MW complains incessantly; she gets angry at everything and anything. I'm routinely and vehemently chastised for things I've no part in or control over.
Sleep is difficult. Night-time anxieties strike and MW is in and out of bed for hours setting the world right.
And, of course, she worries about her health.
I have the power to end it. All I need to do, next time she asks if I think her muscle spasm could be HD, is say yes.
Like that; it's over.
Christ, I've come close. Over these past few months? So close.
Why haven't I? Why am I still standing here, useless, bucket dangling from my fingers while the water rises past my nose?
***
I'm ill. Hatred for MW's family has poisoned my mind; turned my soul black. I've had recurring dreams where I'm drinking again - the sensation so real, I wake up nauseous and wobbly. Feeling evil.
I justify "reverse gas-lighting" MW, especially when it is her own behavior I'm trying to normalize, but lately she's noticed my weight loss. There's nothing "reverse" about me telling her she's mistaken and that I've always been this size even though I'm swimming in my clothes and my pants fall right down without a belt.
The look of confusion and concern on her face only reaffirms my low opinion of myself.
Everything is a lie - and I can't pretend that it is all for her own good anymore.
MW complains incessantly; she gets angry at everything and anything. I'm routinely and vehemently chastised for things I've no part in or control over.
Sleep is difficult. Night-time anxieties strike and MW is in and out of bed for hours setting the world right.
And, of course, she worries about her health.
I have the power to end it. All I need to do, next time she asks if I think her muscle spasm could be HD, is say yes.
Like that; it's over.
Christ, I've come close. Over these past few months? So close.
Why haven't I? Why am I still standing here, useless, bucket dangling from my fingers while the water rises past my nose?
***
I'm ill. Hatred for MW's family has poisoned my mind; turned my soul black. I've had recurring dreams where I'm drinking again - the sensation so real, I wake up nauseous and wobbly. Feeling evil.
I justify "reverse gas-lighting" MW, especially when it is her own behavior I'm trying to normalize, but lately she's noticed my weight loss. There's nothing "reverse" about me telling her she's mistaken and that I've always been this size even though I'm swimming in my clothes and my pants fall right down without a belt.
The look of confusion and concern on her face only reaffirms my low opinion of myself.
Everything is a lie - and I can't pretend that it is all for her own good anymore.
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