7-1-17

This is bad. Edited, now EIGHT fights in a month; and he hit the dog for no reason. in People suck. Cats are awesome. Dogs are alright.

Revised: 07/01/2017 3:09 p.m.

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•  July 1, 2017, 7:46 a.m.
 
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• Public

I keep a completely private diary, specifically for the purpose of recording our fights, while they’re still raw and fresh in my memory; because my day to day memory is pretty bad. Normally, we have one or two fights a month; and in a case where it’s two, they’re both over the same thing, so it’s really more of a continuation than a separate argument.

In June, there were SEVEN fights. Five over separate things. (As of July first, if you count today, EIGHT.)

So of course I ask myself, “What’s different about June?”. The only thing that I can see is that the Male has a lot more income now, because he can collect social security while he works his part time job. So apparently “more money” somehow equals “become an ass”?

Does that even make sense?

I don’t see a pattern here. It’s not as if there’s one subject that repeatedly comes up; so it has to be psychological. I seem to recall something from college psychology about eustress being just as bad as stress, in terms of changing relationships; that “good” stress is still stress. - So he’s under more stress, I suppose.

But I don’t see what good knowing that does me. Even if he had some obvious physical issue causing him pain, it’s not my fault; and I’m sure as hell not going to stay here and be his emotional punching bag.

Which brings me to the thing making me think maybe I should just make a noose: I have nowhere to go. (Well, except for the homeless shelter; in which case I’d lose my cats, and I won’t be doing that.)

If I had any regular income at all, I could get on the waiting list for a low income apartment; but I don’t; and I’d have to abandon my pursuit of SSI if I got a job. I can’t keep one anyway, that’s why I began the process in the first place. And besides which, the waiting list is eighteen months long, so it wouldn’t be a real answer anyway.

So I’m stuck here, with a person who has become nearly impossible to live with, and is making me miserable.

If this doesn’t improve, I’ll be asphyxiating myself.

I’ll continue to keep track of fights, and see how it goes for a while.

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June fight excerpts:

June 1st: Yelled at me because I was trying to help him figure out the security camera, and some of my ideas that I listed involved buying something. “Money money money money. Every day it’s something about money!”

June 11th: Yelled at me because I brought up the subject of life insurance. “Oh, I knew THAT was coming!” “You’ve been wishing me dead for twenty years!!” “How would you feel if I kept carrying on, day after day, about the possibility of YOU dying?” “Nothing like making a !@#$ing wish list and putting ME on it!!”

June 11th, Later: Yelled at me for suggesting that he not walk in the heat so much. “I’m not some eighty year old invalid!” I went to my room and covered my ears, and he chased me! “What if I went on and on about YOU dying! You might not live to sixty!”

June 20th: Slammed things and yelled “You know mother !@#$ing well! Put off put off put off!” Over and over; because he didn’t answer me when I asked him if he wanted to go to sleep; and I guessed the wrong answer. (I made a public entry about that one, entitled “Communication, people.”

June 23rd:  Ignored me when I asked for help washing the cats, didn’t apologize when Pumpkin ripped my hand open, yelled at me when I held up my bleeding hand and said “Gee, thanks!” He said “Oh yeah make it MY fault!” 

June 27th: Yelled at me in PUBLIC: “Why didn’t you have them on yet?! Why aren’t they on?!” Because a bus driver asked how I was, after I’d just been standing in line behind a literally screaming kid; and I told him: “Overwhelmed by that screaming child and hoping that she doesn’t squall all the way to the restaurant.” - I was trying to put them on; I can’t do that and pay the driver, too, and I can’t leave them in constantly or I wouldn’t be able to talk to anybody at all. - I told him that, and he said “Then they serve no purpose!”

June 30th: 
Told me that the dog couldn’t be in my room because she might break the tablet that he paid for. (As if he were my father?!) He kept telling her “out! OUT!”  I went back and picked up my art supplies and said “You’re tired anyway, and I don’t want to argue with you; so I’m just going to go to my room (my other room) and paint.” And he could barely talk, everything was bits of words; like he was falling asleep. “I’m not your !@#$ing !@#$!@! You cant, you can’t treat me any, um any way you want! !@#$ing something something unintelligible Slams his chair on the floor as he’s carrying it to his room.

EDITED TO ADD HIS EXTRA HORROR
July 1st: It was past time for the dog to be out and go to the bathroom. I was on my way to let her out, but I had to stop and pee. He went to her crate and HIT HER because she was whining, rather than let her out. (I’ve moved her box to my room now.) I yelled, “Hey! I’m on my way to let her out, I just had to pee!” He says “Shut the !@#$ up in a low, gutteral, voice. I say “She’s my dog! You leave her alone, you abusive ass!” And he repeats himself, “Shut the!@#$ up.”, and I yell “Make me!” and he goes to his room.

(If he actually laid a hand on me, no amount of apologies or gifts would ever be able to uncross that line, and he knows it. Hence my open invitation. It would eliminate my indecision about my future and any feelings of guilt I might have for leaving behind our 21 year relationship. )

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Edited to add a note I wrote to myself on the phone last weekend, while we were out; and what he just did today.

Re-reading all of this, it’s abundantly obvious that he doesn’t like me. Maybe having a better income just gave him the confidence to let that show. Fortunately I co-own the house, so he can’t throw me out.

Suddenly I have no desire to clean the place, except for my rooms. So I’ll have a nice clean area to asphyxiate myself. Fuck this.

I can hear him coughing from the cigarettes. I wish he’d choke.