Dread Again Over V-Day and "Bitching"

Edit: I fucking hate this post! I hate it! Edit: Except the video, of course.


While I'm sitting here under the S.A.D. lamp, thinking most normal folks are all looking forward to V-Day - at least the women -I know that mine is just going to be shit. I'm dreading it like fuck. It's not something I'm bringing down upon myself with negative thoughts or interactions with the spouse, it's just that I feel that all he cares about right now is himself. He claims to be broke, yet says he could just pay the balance of his car loan off in one go. He's got plenty of money saved up in the bank. Sure he's laid off, but he knows that he's going back to work in another week, but he refuses to pay extra rent (only $100). He normally does these days, even though he brings in a shitload more money than I do with my SSDI.

On the way to my shrink, I mentioned that I sent the rent out. That's when he told me he wasn't going to pay extra, because he's not working, but he was sure proud to announce that he was going to get $500 a week on unemployment the other day. Poor guy.

I have noticed since xmas that he has bought more and more things than I can even count. Almost every day, he receives some sort of package, buying things for himself daily. Yet he claims he can't pay an extra $100 on rent, which would help me out with shrink and meds costs. He even gets upset when I casually and innocuously use the term "shit" as in "here's some more shit for you", when I bring back the mail from the mailboxes down the hall or from the door.

He also made that ridiculous claim that he's going to stop smoking. Cold turkey, of course. He smokes about a pack a day. He even smoked all the packs of smokes that he "gave" to me as a gift from his trip back from over the great pond, and never replaced them.

Yesterday, he complained about dishes in the sink, most of which he had used, as if I'm supposed to keep the kitchen clean? He was angry and said he wanted to cook, but couldn't even get in the sink. So he ended up washing a few dishes. Big deal. He's not paying more rent, so he can do dishes too, is what I was thinking to myself. I don't give a fuck if he likes it or not.

This morning after I got up at 6, when my alarm goes off, I shut the bedroom door and got dressed for the treadmill. I went about things in a normal way, as if no one was asleep, because he never makes an effort to do things quietly when he gets up and I'm still in bed. That is the reason now that I am no longer in bed when he gets up. The noise he makes has forced me to get up before him, whether he works or not, fucking with my sleep, worrying about the time, making me look at the clock several times during the night.

Every morning, he's in a pissy mood for the first half hour at least. He calls it "waking up". When the alarm goes off, I wake up, grab my clothes, get out of the bedroom, shut the door, make coffee, etc. What I'm trying to say is when you're awake, you're fucking awake. It's not license to act like a man morning bitch just because you're that way in the mornings. I never wake up in a shitty mood. I just wake up like a robot, I do what I gotta do. I don't act like a baby morning bitch. Unfortunately, most of the men I have been with have been like this, but I have to say that he might be the worst, if memory serves.
 
So why am I still married, you may ask? At the moment, I sure can't afford to move and live alone. I just try to look forward to my alone time when he is working, no matter how much he complains about having to work. He says he wants to get laid off. He's started to call in "sick" more often for laziness. His work ethic has never been like an american work ethic of our (probably not you) generation. He's used to getting laid off for months, even taking a year off and traveling here and there, but that's all in the past. In this country, bitch, you gotta work.

Except for those of us that can't but wish they could, like me. I'm too fucked up: bipolar, PTSD, BPD, crippling anxiety, and gawd knows what else that isn't diagnosed. It's all jumbled into one big mess.

Is it so stupid, horrible, and selfish to just want a bottle of decent champagne and some good chocolates to share? Do I just have to buy them myself? If I do, I'm going to get most of that fucking champagne, motherfucker. I always get my feelings hurt on V-Day, even if I tell myself I expect nothing. I guess I'm just fucking lying to myself. I just want to be shown a little love. Who doesn't?

And here's thee song about a broken heart:

Fuck Knows What

Yep, I'm drunk on cheap vodka and diet Dr Pepper as well being high in some sort of way from my meds that have been mixed with the booze. I'm beginning to have a headache from thinking. Thinking about my stupid pitiful day to day life, thinking what's the point in blogging about it, recording it, all that shit. I took my seroquel early for the evening just to see how fucked up I'd get and what it would be like.

I just went outside downstairs to the proper place to smoke after my spouse declined my offer to come  with. I thought 'what an asshole'. Too lazy to walk down the stairs and come back up. Instead, he waiting for a while, had a smoke out on the deck, then went and put on the stupid movie "Ted". I might as well stick my fucking head in the toilet and try to flush it down over and over again. So now, I'm being forced to watch the Ted movie because my spouse put it in the DVD player. I won't be watching it of course, just forced to listen to it in the background.

It was no big deal going outside and down the back stairs as there were only a few people passing by that were probably half  my age and half dressed as well. I enjoyed my smoke alone and was glad that my spouse wasn't standing there smoking, with his goddamned iphone in his free hand. That is so cuntish and rude, to me, but there's nothing I can say or do to get him to understand that fact. It fucking sucks, so I'm kind of glad that he said he wouldn'tust join me for a smoke.

My heart is broken and can't wait to go to bed in my nightie, and read a  bit on my Kindle. That usually puts me to sleep pretty quickly. I'll have to add clonopin to that mess to make reality go away more quickly.  My heart is certainly broken, and has been for a long time. My spouse seems to be more into watching mind-numbing tv rather than coming to bed for getting it on or even just talking about it. I almost wish I had a male friend that knew my circumstances, and that I could at least try and fuck. All I heard about from the spouse today was comments about going to England for a visit and moving into a bigger place. That's all fine and dandy if you have the money, don't have a cat, and don't have a lot of extra money coming in. Maybe he thinks I'm going to get a job along the way somewhere?

Fuck. I don't like this reality anymore. It's all gone to hell. I just want to sleep it off and wake up to see he's not here, however terrible that sounds.

I honestly do not know how much more of this I can stand, plus his damn birthday is coming up in the middle of August. I wanna buy him a Louisville Slugger and take a good, hard swing to his head. He just doesn't seem to care or get it. He just doesn't seem to want to care anymore.

Fuck everything. FTW. I just want water, my pills, and to sleep this all away, like it never happened.