Wife Swap (?)

I realize that I owe you all an update (yes, I actually AM aware of the passing of time in this crazy life of mine) but instead I am writing this in response to Kristle's recent SpouseBuzz article about Wife Swap (read her post HERE).

Having never actually watched an entire episode of Wife Swap, it is tough for me to say whether or not I would be willing to do this show (I am guessing NOT....and it is a moot point because Jarhead would NEVER agree to this!!!) however, even if I was willing to swap, and even if hubby agreed to it, I know for a fact that the show's producers could NEVER find anyone willing to take on my insane life for any period of time.

The manual I would have to leave for anyone so crazy would probably go something like this:


"Welcome to our insane asylum. If you did not bring your own meds, well sorry - you'll wish you had. If you feel the need to 'borrow' some, borrow mine, they're the BEST.  But they always run out, so good luck with that.  In an emergency, you can borrow my 'backup meds':

As you will notice when you enter our home, dust is a NOUN here, not a verb.  (it is something that is HERE, not something I DO)  If this bothers you, feel free to waste your time constantly shifting the never-ending supply of dust from one surface to another.  I prefer to spend my time tending to the needs of all the men in my life:




This is Jarhead.

He is always right. Don't question it, just know that he IS always right. He has a charming mix of Bi-polar symptoms and O.C.D., with A.D.D. tendencies and some violent anger outbursts thrown in for fun. I am pretty sure this is actually undiagnosed PTSD, unless maybe he is taking asshole pills behind my back.  DON'T POKE THIS BEAR.  He doesn't regularly take any meds, much to my dismay.  Your best bet is to provide timely meals that are at least a little appealing, with plenty of salt and cold Coke Zero.  Desserts help, too.  Serve with a remote control on the side, and stay out of his line of sight.  Do NOT, under any circumstances, make fun of his incessant channel surfing.  He is only home 3 out of every seven days, so just keep the peace while he's home, and you can breathe easier and stop walking on eggshells for four straight days.




This is Bonehead. 

He will be 18 in 149 days, but who's counting? He is ridiculously funny, but even more ridiculously inappropriate.  If you are easily offended, bring ear plugs or an iPod so you can ignore him.  99.9% of everything that comes out of his mouth is a meaningless joke, anyway.  He can be trusted to babysit the toddler for a few hours at a time, but be prepared to come home to this scene if you take advantage of this:

(yes, that is a baby asleep in a laundry hamper)

Bonehead can also be very violent if provoked, and stands a full 6' 4" so don't poke THIS bear, either.  His primary trigger is anyone mentioning his Asperger's Syndrome, or anything that he perceives to be a reference to this.  One recent meltdown started with me saying, "you would be good at X" because he assumed that my reason for thinking he would be good at it was because of his Asperger's.  Just give him something constructive to do each day, and give very clear & concise instructions. If you leave room for interpretation, YOU WILL GET his interpretation (and it won't match anything you could ever come up with on your own).  Ask him to show you his speed-solving skills with his Rubik's Cube - this is phenomenal to see, and he is always happy to show off.




This is Knucklehead.

He is our 'perfect child'.  Or was, until he hit middle school. Now he occasionally brings out a teenage attitude, but generally uses this to go pout in solitude.  He can be trusted to watch the toddler, but is not great about changing diapers - so limit your errands to 2 hours or less, if you leave Knucklehead in charge.  He will spend his free time playing videogames, shooting hoops at the park down the street, or playing with his little brother.  He is low-maintenance, but don't forget to give him some attention or you'll see that attitude I mentioned above.




This is Bobblehead.

He loves eggs and hates being told what to do.  He knows he is cute, so beware! He will use those dimples against you if he can.  He naps pretty well (finally!) and sleeps through the night, but is very dependent on certain routines and comfort items to make this happen.  See the 'sleep manual' provided in a separate volume. He wiggles during diaper changes, as he seems to think his purpose in life is to streak around the house naked.  He throws a mean tantrum, but can usually be distracted from a fit with a ball; any ball will work, but basketballs are his favorite. He also loves splashing in water... ANY kind of water (keep bathrooms off limits or he will play in the toilet)

His language has been a little slow to develop, but is now picking up, so you can expect him to learn hundreds of new words during your stay here.  Please don't teach him any four-letter-words, as I have worked very hard to curb my own swearing to keep him from repeating anything that might embarrass me, say, at church.  Or at the Christian Preschool where I teach (that's another whole manual there).  Bobblehead gives the BEST cuddles, so if there are no 'meds' or 'backup meds' in the house, his snuggly hugs and kisses should get you through the rough days.  They certainly do for me."

What would you put in your manual, if you went on Wife Swap? Post in the comments below, or better yet make a blog post about this and put the link in a comment below :)

As always, THANKS SO MUCH for reading!


   

did i say that out loud???

Just a warning right from the start - this post might piss a lot of people off.  That is NOT my intention, however, human nature being what it is, I know that it is a likely result.

My intention in sharing this is actually twofold - I need to get some negative crap off my chest, and I want to bring awareness to the struggle that so many other spouses like me are going through RIGHT NOW.  Maybe you know one, and maybe you'll approach her differently after you read this (?)  Or maybe you'll just sit down and write me a nasty email for being honest.

So, you know that scene in Jerry Maguire, where he basically has a nervous breakdown & then a manic episode, during which he writes his mission statement (the title is something like, 'the things we think but do not say') and he makes sure that EVERYONE in his company gets a copy........then he wakes up, realizes that he wants to take back EVERY WORD, and then realizes it is too late?  Yeah, THAT moment.  Have you ever felt like that?  I have a feeling I will feel that way within about 15 seconds after I click "PUBLISH POST" but I am posting this anyway, knowing that it actually NEEDS to be said.  My integrity won't let me delete this post for the sake of being politically correct, or for the sake of looking like the dutiful, obedient mil-spouse I am supposed to be.

FUCK THAT.  Oh yeah, sorry, language advisory. *AHEM*

Anyway, the thought that has sprung into my head at least a couple of times in the past 14 months, the one that will probably make you want to slap me, is one that I really can't SPEAK OUT LOUD.  I'm actually shaking as I type this, because even putting it out in the blogosphere is so very taboo.  The horrible thought is this little tiny voice in the back of my head, that I can barely hear over the wails of despair over a particularly rough day/night/week dealing with my (invisibly)wounded hubby.....the voice is mine, and whispers, "why couldn't he have just DIED over there?"

Before you rush off to write me hate mail for saying this, please read the rest of this post!

I absolutely do NOT wish that my hubby was dead!  Nor do the other thousands of women who are the primary caregiver/support to a wounded warrior - whether his wounds are visible or not, treatable or not. These men return home but are no longer themselves, and we, their wives, girlfriends, or mothers, take on the daunting task of helping them figure out WHO they are now, and how that new man fits into society, into our families, into our LIVES.

In my case, my hubby has refused to get help for what I am now certain is PTSD.  Some days I would swear he is bi-polar, other days schizophrenic, other days BOTH.....and some days, very very rarely, I would say he is HIMSELF, the same man who left here in May 2010, kissing my pregnant belly goodbye.  Those rare 'good days' are such a gift, but at the same time they leave me hurting SO MUCH MORE.  Those days are part of what makes me subconsciously 'jealous' of the brave war widows I know.  Not really jealous, but I can't come up with a better word.  You see, a widow has to endure an entire life without ever seeing her love again.  She KNOWS he is gone, and is never coming back.  She can grieve publicly and privately, and move forward with whatever new life she's able to make for herself.  She gets to cherish the memories of her hero as she last saw him.....maybe he even kissed HER pregnant belly goodbye.

For me, the random glimpses of my husband's old self - his REAL self, are just such a merciless tease.  Those moments make me think that maybe he really IS coming back to me, completely whole.  And when he slips farther away from me, having a terrifying blowup, or meltdown, or just plain shutting down altogether, I GRIEVE all over again.  Hate me for saying this if you must, but emotionally, it is as though he has DIED several times just in the past six months.  Every time, I go through the cycles of grief all alone, in private, and if I get to that lowest of low points and hear that little voice whispering 'why didn't he just DIE over there'....then I go through days, weeks, or even months of GUILT just for having that thought.

Again, it's not that I WANT him dead, but when this burden becomes so heavy, I secretly steal a glance at one of my amazing widow friends (you know who you are!) and wish I could trade my load for hers.

Any wife of a Wounded Warrior will admit to having this very thought at least ONCE.  If she denies it, she is either lying, or hasn't walked this road far enough yet.....she'll get there, I promise.


The important thing, of course, is when we DO get there, when we hit our emotional rock bottom, we have to learn to BOUNCE.  And I think the first step is to talk about what 'rock bottom' actually looks like, feels like, and sounds like.  Even if it is just a little whisper that we don't want to acknowledge, much less say OUT LOUD.

more running to stand still

I've been trying to sit down and blog for the past few days, but just don't know what to say.  I even missed Amber's music linkup for the first time EVER. This week has just sucked SO BAD.  I posted earlier in the week about some of the struggles we're dealing with as a family, but can't even really put into words what I'm actually going through right now.

Bonehead came home yesterday, but has been a complete jerk since he got here.  I feel like I'm bending over backward to please everyone and all it gets me is kicked in the teeth.  I seriously think that I will soon be the mother of a HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT.  Sad thing is, this kid is such a genius! He's throwing so much away right now.  I did make it clear to him that I am on his side, and that is exactly WHY his last day to live here will be Nov 24 (his 18th birthday).  Seems I'm good at kicking people out, huh? :(

Speaking of which, I finally talked to my hubby for a few minutes on the phone yesterday - first contact we've had since I asked him to leave last Monday following his meltdown.  He is still very angry about pretty much everything, mostly just mad at ME at the moment for making him go.  It's not like he left me any choice, the way he blew up here!  I'm a little bit scared that he'll blow up like that at work, where he carries a gun.....the consequences could be SO MUCH WORSE than just having to go stay with his grandmother for awhile.  Not scared enough to actually call his supervisors to warn them or anything, but still it's a little nagging worry in the back of my mind.  I'm also a little scared that he will retaliate financially against me & the kids - you know, stop paying the mortgage, etc. I have a new job starting this week, but it will basically only be enough to feed us & that's it - I can't pay any of the other household expenses with the little bit of money I'll be making.  And, when I look at this honestly, I am still scared that he could come back here to confront me, try to force his way into the house, etc, and this time really hurt someone.  If I was not physically afraid of him, I would not have asked him to leave to begin with.

I keep waiting for him to call and actually APOLOGIZE to me.  Not a weak, "I'm sorry your feelings were hurt" kind of thing, but a true, "I'm sorry, can you forgive me?" kind of thing.  Maybe with flowers, I guess, I don't know.  But he's not anywhere near even recognizing how far he went this time, and even if he does recognize that he crossed a line, he won't admit that to anyone else.

I reach for my phone several times a day to call or text him, but I always manage to talk myself out of it, knowing he really needs some time and some space to figure things out right now.  It is SO HARD for me to just leave it be....but I know in my heart that I HAVE TO leave it, for now at least.  So I keep busy instead, and by the time I even have TIME to call or text him, it's well past bedtime.  He turns his phone off when he goes to bed, so at least that normally keeps me from acting on the urge to at least CHECK on him.  Last night after a glass (or 3) of wine, I finally did send him a sappy text about how I will always love him, even if it has to be from a distance.  He didn't even get the text until late this morning, and of course now that I am sober I'm kicking myself for sending it.

MUST. RESIST. TEMPTATION.

:/

This is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but now I have to look at this as though I am the parent and Hubby is the child here (because psychologically, he kind of IS....or at least is acting like a child!)  If I give in and let him come home WITHOUT getting help, he'll never get help.  On top of that, he'll never take me seriously again, which would then be setting me up for a lifetime of abuse.  I CAN'T live that way, and I sure as hell don't want my boys to grow up seeing that example of how to treat a woman!  I put my foot down, and now I have to stand by my word.....he can NOT come home until he has gotten some help - at least counseling, preferably coupled with some pysch meds.  The meds part is not a deal breaker for me, but I know he could be so much more functional/content/HAPPY with a llittle chemical help right now.

*sigh* Well, off to do a little more running nowhere - literally this time, on a treadmill.  Then I'll run around and stay busy the rest of the day so I won't follow up that text with a 'please come home' text.  I really do miss him, but even when he is HERE, he's not really himself anyway - not since Afghanistan.  I want my REAL hubby back!  The one I would never have needed to be AFRAID of.  The one who used to laugh and play and LIVE his life.  OUR life, together.   I'm pretty sure THAT man is never coming back, and the grief over that is overwhelming.

"Just Wait".....

This video has been making the FB rounds - I first saw it posted by Kristle from Forget The Dog Not The Baby, and was so moved I could only CRY at first.

So, grab some tissues before you hit play!

Now, most of you know that I've been looking for a 'way out' lately. 

Not suicide, but at least Divorce. 

I am struggling SO MUCH with those feelings of "I just can't do this any more" and I want so badly to just go back in time, about a year and a half. Back to when life was about HOPE, anticipation/excitement over the baby on the way.  Life was full of LIFE back then, you know? Back before 'whatever' happened to my husband overseas.  Perhaps the NOT KNOWING what really happened to him or what's really wrong now is the most frustrating part for me....I don't know. 

Anyway, I feel SO MUCH GUILT over wanting to leave him now.  I mean, if he had come back missing a leg or an arm, would I give up and walk out on him?  I certainly hope not!  So I feel like his "issues" (as he calls this.....I call it mental illness, but whatever. Tomato, tomahto, right?) are something that deserves a little extra patience from me, and of course a little benefit of the doubt.  I "SHOULD" wait faithfully for him no matter what, right? In sickness and in health..... So I suck it up, cry A LOT, and go into survival mode way more than I care to admit.

I've had a hard time even blogging about this, much less talking to anyone in person or on the phone, because of my GUILT over feeling things I think I shouldn't FEEL.  But the one thing that struck me most when I watched this awesome video was that I HAVE to talk about this.  About my situation, my feelings, all of it.  If nothing else, I might be able to comfort another person going through the same difficulties.  And maybe, just MAYBE, talking about it will help me deal with things better, too.

Some of what I go through is just beyond words (literally) so I can't talk about it, even with my counselor. Some of it will sound trivial to those who have not lived it, and some of it will sound like I am straight-up lying, it is that unbelievable.  Like the time hubby got pissed off at me and literally abandoned me & the baby at costco with no money and no car.  He eventually came back, of course, but that kind of crap is just NOT normal.  (or is it?)

Either way, I am making a real attempt to speak up more about this craziness, and I hope others who are suffering will do the same.

Also, make sure you visit Kristle's post about this for a list of resources for those needing help.  I wanted to duplicate it here but my blogging time is up for now. 

And please PLEASE pass this video on to someone!  Post it on your facebook, or e-mail it to someone who needs to know she's not alone.  This really needs to be shared.

insomnia

I've been trying so hard not to badmouth my husband on here, or air our dirty laundry, etc.  But so many of you can clearly see how much I am hurting, even if you don't have all the dirty details. If nothing else, I am sure most of you have noticed the lack of real posts on here lately.  Linkups, sure.  Recipes, why not? But actual posts, with CONTENT, substance? Nope. Not lately.  I've just been keeping it all inside (or trying to).

So tonight, my fourth sleepless night this week, I am spilling my guts - in hopes that it will clear my head so I can at least get some sleep.  Or, maybe talking about what I am going through can help someone else to avoid this painful situation?

I'm still skimming over a lot of details, but need to get the general story out.

There has never been physical abuse in this marriage, and there still isn't. But there has been some serious verbal and emotional abuse.  Once, about 8 years ago, the verbal abuse got so bad that I wanted to die.  I was honestly planning my own suicide.  I knew my children would be devastated if I took the cowardly route I was considering, so I didn't follow through with it.  Somehow in a rare moment of clarity, I also realized that my children were being harmed by what they were witnessing.  What was I teaching them by ALLOWING anyone to treat me that way?

So I stood up for myself, told him to get out.  He refused to leave, so I left....sort of. There was this big dramatic scene straight out of an after school special, where he begged me not to go, then physically blocked the door so I couldn't leave, and even refused to move his car so I couldn't get mine out.  I pretended to have a spine, for the sake of my kids, and left ON FOOT. Knucklehead was just a toddler at the time, so I had him in his stroller, and had Bonehead (then about 7 years old) holding on to the handle of the stroller. The few possessions I had managed to grab on the way out the door were stuffed into the little basket underneath.  I didn't have a plan, didn't even have a cell phone, so I headed down the block toward town in search of a payphone, frantically going through a mental list of WHO I could even call.....where would we even go?

And then he caught up with me, all apologies, begging and pleading with me to stay. And, predictably, I caved - but only after getting him to PROMISE me that he would get some counseling, go to some kind of anger management, etc. He didn't actually go to any counseling, at least not at that point.  But the yelling, name calling, and general disrespect he had been showing me did stop. He simply replaced it with other forms of emotional abuse.

And I took it.

It's not fair to characterize him ONLY as this bully, because he is so much more than that. (Duh. Why else would I stay?) He is smart, funny, and of course VERY good looking.  He has this way of looking at me from across a crowded room and making me feel as if I am the only woman in the world - like he is not aware that the rest of the world even exists, when he looks at me like that. He can kiss me in a way that makes me SURE he's some kind of wizard or something, because there is absolute MAGIC in those lips. He makes me feel indescribably good - when he's not making me feel like I am *this big*.




Throughout several more years, as we both grew, changed, and matured some, the mental/emotional abuse diminished. There are a lot of reasons for this, most of which I am only beginning to understand right now.  But when things came to a head 2 years ago, and our marriage was 'over' (or so I thought) I had to really do some deep soul searching.  I had to figure out WHO I was, and why I had let this man drive me crazy (literally) by convincing me that I was crazy.  Sounds funny to say it that way, but that's the most basic way I can break down what he did to me in those years.

I had to heal that 'crazy' before I could do anything else, and the process was (IS) very painful.

When I made the life-changing decision to take him back, to start over again, it was with a lot more knowledge, confidence, and (finally) backbone than I had ever had before.  After months of 'separation' and preparing for a divorce, we both had regrets, but didn't want to waste time looking back - just wanted to move forward, to our future TOGETHER.  We both swore, never again would we hurt each other or let anyone else hurt us. Ever.

So we moved forward, and while I can't claim things were picture perfect, we were at least 'whole'. I was a whole person, HE was a whole person, and we were a whole couple......an US.  He had finally gotten counseling before the big split, and continued it after we got back together. We still had disagreements, but we handled them like grownups, and kept moving FORWARD....to the baby we had both been wanting to have for ten years, among other things.

Nothing is ever perfect, but for about six months we functioned well, we grew and matured even more, and we cherished each other.  Then we conceived Bobblehead the same week that he got orders for deployment. We had about 4 months before his actual departure, but of course there were trainings and workups, so things got a little strained.  But we dealt with it.  Mature, loving adults, facing all of these challenges TOGETHER.

By the time he left for Afghanistan in May 2010, I was convinced that everything we'd been through so far had made us strong enough to get through anything. 
(fun fact about me: I am terminally NAIVE)

Something happened to him over there, and while he fights his way back to some kind of normal, he has reverted to some of the same crappy behavior from years earlier......initially it was just this ridiculously huge invisible wall that he put up between us when he came home in December. But within a couple weeks, I started feeling the way I used to with him, years ago: small. insignificant. nothing.

I fell back into the old 'battered woman' habits of making excuses for him.

"He's still getting used to being home, he just needs time/space/etc"


"He's dealing with all the changes that took place while he was gone - especially the new baby"


"He doesn't KNOW how much he's hurting me, or he would definitely stop."


"I'm just being too sensitive because of my own issues (post partum depression, etc.)"

After a couple of months with no improvement, I begged him to get help for his 'issues'. He still refuses to acknowledge any kind of mental health problems, but he made all the promises, said all the right words.  And still  kept this distance between us.

I sought counseling on my own, because I did NOT want to go back to the darkness I used to live in.  Counseling has helped me, more than anything to be very clear and very specific when asking him for what I want or need.

And still, six months after his return, he won't open up, connect, or really BE here with me.

Can't? Won't? at this point there is little difference, as far as I am concerned. The result is still the same.

I still have this horrible emptiness inside me, and I continue to fill that void with food.  Every pound I gain is a testament to my own misery and weakness....and HIS weakness, in my view.  I keep thinking, if he could only be strong enough to live up to the promises he made in those six months before active duty, and those four months before he actually left....if he could just be strong enough to really COME BACK to us, then things would be OK.

And then I think that *I* need to be the strong one, need to move on and get healthy, inside and out. For me, and for my kids. But I can't find a way to do any of that and still stay in this painful marriage.

I feel so much guilt for even considering LEAVING (or asking him to leave) when he's clearly suffering.  He's fragile, and needs me now more than ever, whether he knows that or not.  It's not HIS fault that he came back so damaged, right? He's made so much progress in his professional life in the past few months...still a long way to go to 'normal' but he is at least FUNCTIONAL.  I still love him every bit as much as I did before he left for that third deployment.....

But is it really OK for me to suffer through this - IN FRONT OF MY CHILDREN?  They see all of this, they know that dad makes mom cry ALL.THE.TIME.  They don't have to know the details of how or why he is torturing me, to see the devastating results.

The burning question that keeps me awake at night, is "What am I teaching my children by allowing anyone to treat me this way?"

Will my boys grow up to be mean, manipulative, abusive husbands?  If they do, I have no one else to blame....it will be MY fault.

pardon me, but your CRAZY is showing!

OK, before I get into this one, this will be a LONG post (but I promise it will be worth it if you read to the end!)

I've always known that everyone has SOME degree of 'crazy' that's just, well, ingrained in us. I recently observed a woman at my work who seems to have some level of OCD (DISCLAIMER: I am not a licensed medical practitioner of any kind, and am not trained to make any kind of diagnosis!  I just know crazy when I see it.) So, "OCD Lady" has this routine every morning when she arrives at work.  When she parks (far away from any other cars) she sits in her Prius until precisely 8:55 (maybe listening to a radio program?) then she gets out of her car, takes out her efficient little tote that fits perfectly on her shoulder, then walks around her car (apparently checking for scratches or dings?) and takes out her CAR COVER.  It's always perfectly rolled up from her previous afternoon's routine, so she can easily - but CAREFULLY - place it over the top of her little car, and roll it out from back to front, then roll down the fabric over the driver's side, and then walk around to roll down the passenger side fabric.  She then circles the car one more time to make sure all is IN ORDER before she walks inside the school.

That's right, I said SCHOOL.  As in, elementary school.  In super-safe suburbia. Where NOTHING is going to happen to her car, even if she *gasp* parks near other cars, or leaves the car cover off.

Now, the first time I saw this routine, I thought 'what a paranoid bitch!'  Then I began to sympathize a little, and wondered what horrible thing must have happened to her to make her so paranoid. 

Then I began to see my own OCD husband just a little in her crazy routine.  He has this NEED to check, and double check, all the car door handles after he locks it with the little remote. Even though we all hear the 'click' of the lock, and the little beep of the car horn to confirm that the remote has done its job...he is just never satisfied with that.  Everywhere we go, the kids and I have to stand there (sometimes with our hands full, and even in the RAIN) while he walks all around the car and pulls each handle up two or three times to make sure each door is really locked. To me, this is excruciating!  I try so hard to just smile and know that he needs this, but it is just freaking PAINFUL to watch.

And its painful to watch OCD lady sometimes, too.  I mean, PAINFUL.  I felt so sorry for her, for whatever has trapped her in this time-consuming routine. 

But one day last month, it hit me:
she finds COMFORT in this routine. 

I have my own specific routines, things I HAVE to do a certain way, and these routines can calm and comfort me when my life is in chaos.  At first I compared my own routines to OCD Lady's car habit, and thought, 'yeah, but my routines are all about things that MATTER.'  (to me)  Like, I have this thing about my towels not fitting in the linen closet if they're not folded "RIGHT".  It comes from this teeny tiny linen closet that we had in our last house, and now, after 5 years in this house with THREE linen closets, I still have this need to fold the stupid towels 'my way'.  My mother in law folded a load of towels here while I was in the hospital giving birth 9 months ago, and I actually took them OUT of the closet and re-folded them 'the right way'.

Anyway, here's the major epiphany that I wanted to write about:
What matters to me, does not necessarily matter to other people.  And what matters to my husband RARELY matters to me.

I think, when we were dating, and even early in our marriage, we cared about each other's causes simply because we cared about each other.  But now, I find it harder and harder to give a damn about the things he is 'crazy' over, and he rolls his eyes at my obsessions.  We barely ever even watch TV together any more, because our taste in entertainment is so vastly different.  I think this last deployment really highlighted a lot of our differences, because we each had nearly eight months of each being able to do things our own way - and struggling to come back together this time, with all of our OTHER issues (his PTSD, my PPD, and all of our idiosyncrasies, old and new) has just seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

But when it comes down to it, HE matters to me.  And I know I matter to him.  So, we have to find ways to focus (once again) on the things we have in common.  The things we BOTH believe in.  Our kids.  Our faith.  Our home.  OUR FUTURE.

We need to develop some of our own crazy routines TOGETHER, don't you think?  Something comforting, something that's always the same, no matter what.

square one.

Lately things have been REALLY up-and-down.  More than usual.  We've had some rough days and some good days, and a WHOLE LOTTA 'blah' days.

Hubby's most recent 'episode' got me really in a funk and I've been trying to pull myself out of it for a couple days. (I don't know if episode is the right word, but I don't know what else to call it when he zones about responsibilities and throws all his time and energy into things that seem unimportant to me...but he is just DRIVEN to do them...even to the detriment of others or himself)

It doesn't help that I am caring for a super-sick baby, who was nice enough to cough and sneeze all over me, so now I am sick, too. (why did I even BOTHER with a clean shirt this morning???)

The good thing about having a sick baby is that he wants to be held constantly right now.  Not very good for getting anything DONE around the house, but good because I just love snuggling him.  And holding him makes it pretty hard to type anything, so I have been catching up on READING everyone else's blogs instead of just logging on, getting my rant out, and then logging back off.  Sometimes I have to be reminded to just shut up and listen, you know?  I've been slacking on the 'reading' part of this blog-relationship that I have with you all.

Anyway, I saw a post from a milspouse who just started a deployment, and she wrote about saying goodbye to her hubby.  I started thinking back to the 'goodbye' I had with my hubby last year....the last time I saw him as himself.  That probably sounds overly dramatic to someone who has not lived with the mental/emotional issues we're dealing with right now, but from my point of view, it's pretty darned accurate.  He literally has not been 'himself' for even a single day since he returned over four months ago.  There is more and more of him coming through all the time, but it's still not HIM. (yet)

So I went back through my own archives and started reading this blog from the beginning.  I tried to read it from his perspective - how would he react to this statement, or would he see me differently or judge me for revealing that weakness?  As I got to the part, almost a year ago now, where I said goodbye to him, I realized something shocking.  Call it an epiphany, or a paradigm shift, or a litghtbulb moment.

I saw, through my own blog, that I have not been myself in a long time, either!  I can't pinpoint exactly when I changed, but I am definitely starting to sort out the old me from the new me, and to identify things I like and don't like about the new me. (if you missed yesterday's post, I definitely DON'T like the new BITCHY side of me).

Now I feel like this knowledge about the changes in ME is somehow the 'key' to getting US back..... if only I can locate the darned lock.

Going back to the beginning of this blog was just the catalyst for me to now go back to the VERY beginning.  When we met, when we started dating, when I proposed (yeah, that's right *I* proposed to him).  When we had Knucklehead, and when we finally made it legit by getting married when Knucklehead was two.  When we bought this house.  When we nearly gave up on this marriage a couple years ago, and when we miraculously found each other again.  THERE...somewhere in that timeframe, when we had our second 'beginning', that has to be where I can find the secret to getting us back.  We've done it before, and while it was HELLISH, I know we're strong enough to do it again.

I don't want to revisit that pain, but it might be the only way to get through this new pain we're suffering from every day.  So, as I work through some of this (can't WAIT to tell my therapist about this 'breakthrough'!) I may or may not do some flashback blogging.  Might share some of this painful story with you all.  Please bear with me if I do, because it is not an easy story to tell......

I am SUCH a bitch!

Sorry for the language, but I really don't think a 'kinder' word would be appropriate here.

It came to light this morning, after a conversation with my friend, that I am WAITING for my husband to fail so I can rant and rave and go all 'psycho-bitch' on him.

Yeah, seriously.

See, my birthday is coming up in a couple weeks, and Hubby does not have a very good track record there.  Last year was the first time *EVER* that I not only received a really nice gift from him (my iPad) but received it ON TIME.  He's just not good about things like that - at least not WITH ME.  Certain other people get realy nice gifts ON TIME every year from him, but I guess I just don't rate.  This is why I was so pissed about Valentine's Day this year, because I really needed him to put in a little extra effort, and instead got even LESS effort than usual. In fact his only acknowledgement of the holiday at all was to give me an empty excuse a few days ahead, his usual, "whatever I get you for Valentine's Day is going to be late".  Well, here I am over two months later, and STILL no token of his undying love for me.  Not even a card.

Yeah, I feel loved. *ahem* NOT.

So, I was talking with a girlfriend this morning, and she asked me what I asked Hubs to get me for my birthday.  I told her if he has ANY sense in his head he will check out my amazon.com wishlist, but that I honestly doubt he will even REMEMBER my birthday.  Then I told her (somewhat gleefully, though I am ashamed to admit that) that I am HOPING he forgets......and then we both cackled like witches and joked about all the ways I can hurt him back if that happens.

SERIOUSLY. 

I never knew I could be so horrible!  The crap that came spewing out of my mouth this morning in this stupid hypothetical-revenge brainstorming session was worthy of a trashy reality TV show....."Heartless Bitches and the Men They Torture" or some such nonsense.  It would get huge ratings, just for the train-wreck factor; you would flip through the channels and this show would come on and you would NOT be able to look away, no matter how horrifying.  Like Toddlers & Tiaras.

Anyway, now that I realize what a complete and utter Bitch I have become, what should I do about it? I mean, I fully believe that the main reason Hubby tends to be so careless/thoughtless with me is because I let him, but I feel like I should at least give the poor guy a chance...maybe send him an email with the link to my Amazon wishlist? Or perhaps throw a post-it note reminder on his calendar to note my birthday?

What would you do?

**edit: I just re-read this, and it might come across that I want/expect some kind of perfect gift - this is NOT the case.  I would literally be thrilled with a thoughtful card, or a list of ten things he loves about me, or whatever. Its the THOUGHT that counts, seriously.**

another meltdown

Last night SUCKED.  We're still getting over it, actually.

I had pre-made an enchilada bake for dinner, and I put it in the oven to warm for a few minutes before church, figuring I could turn the oven off as we walked out the door and it would continue warming while we were gone.  (We go to church Sunday evenings) At the last minute I found out that hubby was not going with us, so I set a timer for half an hour, and asked hubby to listen for it and turn it off.

No problem, right?

Well when I got home from church the house smelled kind of.....scorched.  I expected to pull this out of the oven:

But instead I found that hubby had already removed THIS from the oven:

I may or may not have cried.....and eventually may or may not have yelled at hubby, using some very colorful language.

Oh yeah, did I mention that my father-in-law was here for the whole debacle? Fortunately I had all the fixings for tacos, so we had a yummy (late) dinner. 

NOT a good night. 

To make things worse, my attempt at an apology for losing my temper only caused hubby to lose HIS temper, so we fought for over an hour after everyone was in bed.  I'm pretty sure FIL heard every word.

It's amazing how something as simple stupid as not turning off the oven can ruin everyone's night.  And since hubby left for work this morning for the week, it kinda ruined our whole week.

**edit: I failed to mention that the reason hubby did not hear the timer is that he went outside and got distracted by the weeds, which he then went manic on....and when he came back through the garage he noticed bird poop on his new car, so of course he HAD to wash the car, right then and there. SIGH.**

Keeping it real (?)

The other day I posted over on The Wifey Blogs about my hubby's sudden request demand that I stop blogging about him.

He has never read my blog, which I think magnifies the unfairness of his demand, but whatever.

The problem is, I really want this blog to be HONEST.  Uncensored.  The real me.  And, like it or not, he is a huge part of ME.  I would not be the woman I am if I had never met him. (that's mostly meant to be positive, but I also credit blame him for some of my negative traits)

I feel like, if I blog about my life, but omit this very important part of my life, then my blog will resemble this joke about OPSEC:

Yeah, its kind of funny - except that it's NOT.

I really want to respect his unreasonable request, but I am not sure if I can.  If you notice that the 'hubby-related' comments are a little thin, just know that it is not censorship, it is me trying to make this marriage work.

That did not go well.

Finally had a confrontation with hubby about this insanity and.....

He's leaving.

I hope he gets some help (I start therapy for me next week).

I hope I can welcome him home with open arms if/when he's ready to come back.

But, in all honesty:


More than anything I am so fucking RELIEVED that I don't have to pretend any more!

I feel like such a fucking failure right now, but at least now I am not a FAKE failure. Now I can be the genuine article.

No bullshit.

Mommy meltdown.

I am pretty sure I am having some sort of nervous breakdown.

My kids all hate me.  Well, not the baby.  Not yet, anyway.  I could probably cope with the kids hating me, if I at least knew where things stand with Hubby.  But I don't.  So I can't.

This past weekend I finally could not contain the crazy any more.  I freaking LOST it.

I screamed, cried, and went into what could only be described as a manic episode.  The result was a REALLY clean house (but please don't ask me to find anything specific, because I may or may not have put away things that don't necessarily have an assigned 'home').

Oh yeah, and I think I scared the crap out of my hubby.

I still don't think he really gets just how much I am hurting, or how much HE could be helping me here, but I do think he at least gets how CRAZY I am right now. 

I don't know if this will bring about change for the better, or change for the worse, or maybe it won't change ANYTHING.  But I wasn't trying to change anything - I was only reacting. 

I was trying to express the fear, anger, despair, and loneliness that has defined the past several weeks of my life.

Not my finest moment, to be sure.

Confessions

This may be a little TOO honest for some people....but I hope I don't lose any friends or followers over this post.

So, first confession: I am so RELIEVED whenever hubby leaves for work. Things have been so tense around here, that when he leaves it's like a mini-vacation for me.

Awful, right? I think I totally FAIL at being a wife.

Confession number two: Sometimes I fantasize about running away - all by myself, just starting over where no one knows me.

Horrible. I fail at being a mommy too.

Hubby started his leave tonight, and will be around A LOT for the next few weeks. This will either be a very good thing, or will be very, very bad.

My old positive self seems to have disappeared, and my negative self is trembling in fear at what this leave will bring.

And the biggest confession: no matter how much I love my husband (and I always will) right now I really don't LIKE him very much at all. Sometimes I think I might even hate him.

Actually, what I really hate is deployment. And reintegration.