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sublime vs hootie
My husband is at a hotel. He's been there since Saturday. He was going to be there just for the weekend but I brought him dinner yesterday and convinced him to stay another night. Mostly because I am not ready for him to be back at the apartment. I need a break. I need a break from him and his psychotic bug obsession. He went to yet another ER and yet again they call me and tell me that he needs to be on medication and needs to see a shrink, but they don't do anything to help and just let him leave and I am left to deal with him alone.
Only I can't anymore. He was convinced our house in Roch was infested and bugs were dropping out of the ceiling and now he is convinced that the exact thing is happening here in the apartment. He's even contacted the landlord to get a bug control person in here and they are going to bother not only us but the people upstairs. And I can't do anything to stop it. To stop him. When the bug guy says there are no bugs, it is going to be Armageddon. At least for me. All hell will break loose.
And when I am already in hell, I don't even want to know what this is going to be like. It's pretty much 95 degrees every single day here. And sunny as fuck. I am so tanned. I can't go out without sunscreen or else I burn instantly. I moved from a place that was grey every single day to the point where it was bringing me down, and now all I want is one overcast day. I don't care if it's government testing grey or real clouds. I would love some real clouds. We have a bucket under a downspout here to catch rainwater to water the little raised bed they let us use, and it's been bone dry for over a month. I got to use water from it once, and that's it. I'm in hell. Fucking hell. The sun in the sky burns red. Like flaming globes. Flaming globes. That's not funny.
I told him to go stay in a hotel so he could rest. And he is. Because bugs never come out of him at hotels. And bugs aren't raining down on him. And I really, honestly can't deal anymore. It's been over a year of this obsession and these hallucinations and I do not know how I have kept it together. He refuses to stop doing meth, and I can't argue that point anymore. I can't argue with him at all because he flips out banging on things and screaming and acting like a total fucking asshole. I can't handle having someone chase me around so they can scream in my face for literally 6 hours straight.
He is so very sick. The manager of the building wanted to kick us out on the street because my husband flipped out and started running around the neighborhood screaming at people. I wouldn't mind getting kicked out if I had a place to go besides my decaying folks' house.
I look at apartments back in MN and I can get a studio for about $580-$600. It's going to be the best I can get. I'm sure my brother would let me put most of my belongings at the folks' house, because that's what he's using the house for...storing his stuff. He has two houses full plus FOUR storage units and the garage at the folks' house is full too. So, I'm not that bad.
After this move, I realize that most of my stuff is not mine. I suspected that before, but now I know. My husband's music stuff takes up almost every inch of this apartment. He can't use his studio because it's so full. He can step in it, put something down, walk out. He has boxes and totes full of stuff in my studio to the point where I can't use my own studio. The living room is full of his stuff. The kitchen is full of his stuff to the point where I can't even set up chairs at the table and the table is full of his stuff too. Unpacked. Not usable. Living out of boxes. No art on the walls. Even my art is still wrapped up.
Basically, the only place I have to sit, eat, do anything is the bed. I feel like I live in a studio apartment already, surrounded by a crazy person and all his stuff and my stuff is buried under that and I'm being held for ransom but the kidnapper won't tell me what they want. I'd pay anything to get out of this situation. I need to get out of this bed and into the woods for a forest bath. But the woods I know are 900 miles away. Might as well be another planet.
I told him I'd stay through his court date for the curfew violation, and they moved it back yet another month. I don't know how they can keep doing this. It's not just unfair to him, they are ruining my life too.
And my poor cat used to have two stories and a stairwell to run around in. She had an entire floor to herself at times and her armchairs and the back door that we'd open and she'd stretch out in front of the screen door and watch the chipmunks come up on the porch and the birds fly in the trees and now she's stuck in this little space and we can't even open the windows because it's so hot the AC has been running almost nonstop since we got it because I'm melting. And I feel so fucking awful. A bad pet parent.
And my husband is convinced the cat is sick too and forces me to groom her with rubbing alcohol which just makes her dry skin worse but I'm fucking scared of him to say no. The vet gave us some antihistamine conditioner and that seems to help her, but he is convinced her very dry skin is bugs and she has to be contaminated. I need to take her away and we need to just rest.
And and and yeah that's how I'm thinking today and and and and and....
And I have said to him that maybe he shouldn't be living inside. He goes out all night and sits in the park sewing and he feels better. He goes to a hotel and feels better. And I feel better for every moment I'm not having to deal with a psychotic person.A drug addict in denial. I told him to take his share of the money and travel in style. Get a pup tent. Get a train pass. Go see the last great forests and deserts and take care of yourself and I will go back to MN and get a shitty little apartment and I'll be there if and when he can function again. Or if he finds a wonderful new place to live, I could join him.
Maybe.
And it's that maybe that is keeping him from doing that and I know it. I've never seen him jealous before. But he is jealous of me talking with Big K almost every day. Texting, not talking. I still don't like to talk on the phone. But we text almost every single day off and on for hours and we have sent him several packages since we moved here. When I say we, I mean me, because it's been all me. I don't think my husband even knew exactly what I sent last time.
It's fucking weird. The guy that told me that if I ever wanted to have sex again I needed to find a boyfriend is jealous that I have someone that is willing to listen to me. I haven't had sex with him. You can't have sex when you are 900 miles apart. I don't think there will ever be anything but friendship between me and Big K and after his recent issues, I think that's a very good idea.He shoots up and he makes no sense but he's beyond kind to me for some reason. I'm still attracted to him, which shows how fucked up I am, but I am happy to have a friend that can put up with my crazy. Even if it's only because he's a million billion times more crazy than I am.
Maybe what's he jealous about is the connection that is happening that he isn't a part of. A connection that we don't have anymore. I would love to have a connection with my husband again, but he won't even give me a hug or kiss me most of the time because he is afraid he will make me sick with bugs. Seriously. That's how sick he is. And I just want to curl up in a ball and cry for a month straight. When I have any time alone, that's usually what I do.
And it's not just the physical intimacy that's disappeared. I can't talk with him because everything I say makes him angry. He's started yelling at me for crying, which makes me cry more. I cry so much because I feel there is nothing I can do. I think the only way out of this life is death, and I don't really want to die, I just want this to stop.
Lately I've been feeling like I did toward the end of living with my parents. That I couldn't handle my dad's violent OCD obligations or my mother's mood swings. Not being able to do simple things I wanted to do like go for a walk without permission. I feel trapped. Only it's worse than being a beginning adult and leaving home, because that is expected and normal. Leaving your husband is something else all together. Even if the reason I'd leave is his insanity and total unwillingness to get help. And it's complicated. And the law is involved. And it's something that I never ever wanted.
We can't have a conversation because it's like we are speaking different languages. We hear the words we say to each other but they don't make sense. I can't stand to be around him. It's awful. I care for him so much but I can't live with him. I can't live like this. I let him convince me to sell my house, and I know deep down it was the right thing to do, but this place is not the right place for me and I have to go somewhere I can feel at home. I am a cancer sun after all, I need some sense of security. A place to curl up in and not feel threatened. Don't most people need that???
But he's been gone for a few days and I've been writing a lot and listening to music and I am starting to feel a little calm. Which I never do anymore. And he told me he's been making music on his laptop and sleeping and that's amazing too, because he doesn't do those things at home.
And this is just proof to me that we need to go our separate ways for awhile. I'm not ready for the drag down depression that is divorce. And I love him still, so I don't know if that is the right thing to do. Just a break. Just go travel to the forests and the funky small towns and if he hates it, just move on. He talks about it all the time, so go do it. Just bring a mask and stay away from people.
And just let me go get some fucking peace. I think I deserve it. I try to do right by everyone. I try to be a good person, a caring person. But I can't save anyone and I can't help anyone anymore. I am wiped out.
My moods change so fast lately it takes me off guard and it wipes me out and I know it's stress. It is the cumulative stress of years of victimization and abuse and addiction. I have never lived on my own. I moved from being a kid with my parents to living with my husband and that's all I've ever known. I don't really want to be alone. I get nervous and panicked, but I wonder how much of that is just dread of what will happen when my husband gets home. I can't enjoy my time alone, because it's temporary, and there is a dark shadow hanging over me at all times waiting to drop and suffocate me forever.
Not happy. No. I always tell people to "Be Happy" and I try to make people happy, because that's such a great feeling to know you helped someone have a better day, maybe a better life. I want a better life. I think I'm not so awful that I deserve it a little bit.
2:47 PM - Monday, Aug. 17, 2020
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