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divorce 101
I am so so low. Night before last I felt myself going down in a slow-mo elevator. Felt trapped, felt the sinking, kept trying to push the up button, the stop button. I tried to climb out the safety door, but I was stuck and I just felt myself sink horrifyingly slow into the black pit of depression. I cried for about three hours straight last night. I couldn't stop. I stayed in the bathroom a little to long and my husband came knocking to make sure I wasn't slitting my wrists. I was just trying to stop crying and I couldn't. So I just kept drinking until I passed out because if I didn't, I would have flipped out. I had to get so drunk so fast that I wasn't physically able to do anything but sit there.
I can't believe I used to handle stress without drinking and drugs. I can't believe I used to think I had stress. I realize now how completely naive I am. I am stupid. I can't make good decisions for myself. I should be in some mental person halfway house where they make you check in throughout the day, tell you when to eat, when to sleep, make you get out into society and do horrible menial jobs like delivering coupon papers or picking up cigarette butts. A place where they give you medication every day. Several times a day. Keep you sedated and placid and level.
Things are awful for everyone right now, but I honestly feel like I have some extra bad shit sprinkles on the top of my shit cone and someone is shoving the entire fucking thing down my throat whether I want it or not.
I had a plane ticket. I was at the airport. I get a phone call from my husband saying someone just threw him against a brick wall and he was bleeding, then the call cuts out and I can't get a response from him. So, I take a $100 cab home from the airport and get home to find all the lights on, the cat not fed, and no sign of where he is or what's going on.
Hours later he walks in, covered in blood, from the ER after being kicked in the face and mugged.
And that's the story of how he got me to stay with him this time. And I honestly don't think I can escape. There is no help. There is no way out. The only way out is really truly out.
And now my brother has said that if I don't just get a divorce and leave that he doesn't want to hear from me anymore. Thanks for kicking me when I'm down. My parents' house is unlivable now, with mold and a cracked main drain and no working plumbing, but *I* am the crazy one? My brother keeps holding this rent-free house over my head like a bunch of carrots over a donkey, but it's not working anymore, because the carrots are rotten. I am supposed to give up the only relationship I've ever had to move into a disgusting, toxic, dangerous house ALONE...My parents did damage to the house with their denial and their hoarding, but my brother has made it unlivable with his apathy and even greater ability to live in denial.
I spent most of last week getting together the care package for our mutual friend back in Roch. It was a nice distraction, but that got mailed yesterday morning and now I am back to having to deal with my own shit life in this shit place. And I am thinking that the only reason Big K is still friends with me at all is because he gets things. If I stopped communicating, stopped feeding bad habits and making excuses, there wouldn't be anything there.
I had to call the crisis unit AGAIN tonight. Their excuse for not helping is that if my husband is still using meth, they can't put him in a 72 hour hold because his behavior can't be diagnosed a mental issue until he's off the drugs.
Seriously.
They won't come to the apartment when I'm not here. They won't put him in hold because he can pull it together enough to appear OK. They won't come talk to him because he's on drugs.
There's no help. I am so fucked. I should just go get a studio apartment back in Roch and disappear from everyone I currently know. Start over in that little subsidiary of the Clinic and write and paint and go for hikes in the woods and just have some peace, yeah...
that actually sounds amazing.
11:52 PM - Tuesday, Aug. 04, 2020
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