My husband called on his parents to help during his own situation. His father and him have formed a somewhat better relationship over the years. His mother, well, technically I’d call them estranged. But that’s not really my business. If he can get support he needs in whatever form necessary than I’m pleased he has that at his disposal. God knows my family would barely fill a bucket of water to put me out if I were on fire. They’d probably think burning would be a valuable lesson for me, and besides, I must have asked to be burnt right?
My only request was that my case not be discussed. I know, selfish of me to be thinking about my needs during his saga, but that’s the kind of self absorbed bitch I am.
He got home later last night as he’d been meeting with them to discuss things. Frankly I’d struggled to keep my eyes open as it was.
Once home, it seemed really pointless to initiate conversation. No doubt it would spiral into an argument. I’d say something wrong, something stupid.
Luckily his parents have superior intellect, and were able to offer advice and insight that someone like me never could.
He seemed calmer and perhaps on the way to reconciliation with his family.
Certainly once they get wind of our troubles and my leaving, he will never face a day without their full monetary support again.
So I went to bed. So tired to the core. Happy for him that life is becoming more calm. He might overcome his hurdles with minor damage.
At some point, I was half awake. Aware that I was at home but watching dream like at the waist down of a man. The belt undone, his manhood sickeningly in my vision. But unsure of it. Having never seen one before. But feeling the rise of fear and revulsion. I needed to wake up fully to get out of this dream like state, but the medication seemed to stop the overwhelming panic that accompanies such flashbacks/nightmares. That feeling I had written about yesterday, of being a nothing. I felt such shame and disgust at myself as id written that, the feelings had stirred something deep within me.
And now the feelings were back. But had brought with them a disturbing flashback.
I felt my breathing quicken as I started waking and instinctively wanted to reach for my husband. The safety, the reassurance, the calming voice. The warmth and familiarity of his safe body.
But I held back. He’d help me, but by obligation. He’d follow the processes that soothe me, but not with love and tenderness. He was tired, he was worn out. He’s made it clear that this time is his.
I must learn to look after myself. To deal with this.
I am not his cross to bear.
I took my diazepam, and found falling back to sleep relatively easy. The exhaustion is overtaking the emotional needs.
Most mornings I don’t have time to shower, so I shower later. This morning I took a very hot, long shower. I wanted to feel clean. I wanted to feel the separation between sleep and wake. The body in my sleep and the body in wake. I scrubbed and washed myself.
Then I did the usual school run on auto pilot.
The weather here is dire. Poor visibility. Constant rain. Cold. The wind picks up and lashes the house. It feels like misery encompasses everything.