grrrr mode

March 17, 2014 | Comments Off

It looks like a winter wonderland outside. We got another five inches of snow overnight, and everything looks so pretty, but I can’t help but note that it’s all surface stuff because on the inside I feel like cracking.

I really wanted to write a positive post. Maybe it’s the PMS that’s darkening my door. Or maybe it’s just the reality of my life for the past almost-seven years that overwhelmingly wears me down from time to time. I shut myself off voluntarily as a chosen introvert, thus I have no emotional support at the times when I think it’d be nice to have someone to lean on. I can’t rely on Mark for that stuff anymore because he’s broken emotionally himself now. All he does is yell and scream. He’s a terribly negative person. He even sees it in himself, and I’m his chosen verbal punching bag. Years ago when I was physically able and made decent money, I wouldn’t have stood for his. I would have left. But what am I staying now for? Because I don’t want to move into a dump? Because I don’t want to move into a dump and then rely on my elderly parents? I don’t have great options. I don’t know if that outdated one-story they have would even be given to me at this point. But the relationship I have with my mom is worse than the one I have with Mark, and I’d have to have one with her if I moved back down there into that house. And that’s not a step in the right direction for me. That’s still me in a stress-filled environment.

And everything here is a competition with him. Why don’t I do this or do that? Um, because it hurts me to? I’m constantly on-edge. I don’t like when 6:00pm rolls around each and every day and he comes home. I hate weekends. I hate long weekends. I hate holidays. I shouldn’t dread my whole life like this, especially when it’s basically based around someone else’s reactions.

Sometimes I think that once we finally move into that one-story that things will be better, but I also know deep down that’s foolish. That’s like when people think getting pregnant will make their marriage better, right? Yesterday, for example, I had gathered all the cats around for their afternoon snack. He had just brought the groceries inside and then noticed that the dog had peed on the floor. He has rejected my multiple suggestions of getting diapers for him as we had done for Becca. He screamed, threw the pillow that had been peed on, and tossed a few of the groceries. This sent the cats scattering off, and I was pissed that he had scared them away. He knew there was a chance this could happen because he voiced aloud if he should put the dog outside before he left for his errands and chose against doing so. So his own stupidity caused his blood pressure to rise, caused another screamfest to ensue, and ruined a fun cat moment. Should I mention that he usually always apologizes after he calms down? Later on in this instance, he fed the cats and played with them. The other day, he went to one of my favorite restaurants to bring me dinner home. But is that supposed to make everything okay? It obviously doesn’t if I still dread his presence and still dread hearing his steps on the staircase.

I’m in enough daily physical pain as it is. It’s so hard to come to terms with the fact that I’m a freaking shell of who I used to be. I feel like a failure at life. Being in chronic pain wears me down. For instance, I can’t just go the mall without paying for it for two whole days afterwards. That’s something I used to do without even giving it any thought, you know? Now it involves a whole lot of preparation that I probably will have to cancel on, and that makes me feel pathetic. That’s a whole lot of struggle for nothing. Physical pain, in essence, should be more than enough. Way more than enough. Now I’m constantly dealing with emotional pain too. Is it because I’m too much of a snot that I am stuck, though? I could always live in a trailer, I suppose, but that’d be a different type of soul killer for me. But maybe that’s just what I need to do. Get out. Start over. Just be surrounded by quiet and peace. And keep playing the lottery so I can hope for a one-story that’ll be better suited for my disabled needs, like with the washer and dryer higher in the laundry room, the kitchen designed with a higher dishwasher and higher cabinets that pull out so I don’t have to reach or bend, and a shower redesigned similarly as well. And if crown molding and granite countertops are thrown in, I wouldn’t say no. You get the picture. If I stay put to get screamed at, I’ll get those things sooner rather than later, I think. But at what emotional cost? And what price is he paying? He’s not happy obviously, but he doesn’t seem eager to extract himself from any of this nonsense or to help himself with it either. And nothing changes. I can honestly say that I’m immobilized by pain, fear, money, and pride. I don’t know his reasons.

Also, I went to my pain management doctor last week. Sigh. I won’t be getting six pills ever out of them as it’s just something they don’t do. I could talk to anyone there, but I just would be recommended to switch offices instead. She increased my methadone to three times a day, which has done nothing for me. Next time around she wants me to try fentanyl patches again even though I experienced shortness of breath when I was on them before with my other doctor. After that, the next step is to try the kind of fentanyl that I can rub in my cheek! And the stupid pharmacist made a mistake with my scrip again. He only looked at my methadone dosage from last time and didn’t see that she had increased it by thirty extra pills. Ugh. Luckily I checked everything while we were still in the lobby.

And since I’m in grrrrr mode, let me tell you why I hate the latest iPad update. This time the calendar updated as well. Now the holidays are all over it, saying I subscribed to it, with no option I can see to unsubscribe from it. I like my day to be empty, blank, and such when I’ve done everything I need to do in it. But the holidays don’t delete out of it. They stay there, staring at me, as if to say that I have left something unfinished that still needs done and still needs completed. I hate it to death. There is just no sense of the completion I crave. I like things to have order and to make sense. Maybe that’s why my life is so hard for me to live in right now. It just doesn’t make sense.

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