Back to the grind...

Hello Stephen,

How are you today?  I hope you enjoyed the holidays!  I had to endure 10 days with Pete home, and lemme tell ya, that is NOT always an easy thing to do.  He got on my nerves a LOT.  I'm glad he's returned to work today.  Some people are nice in smaller doses, ya know?

The thing I like least about Pete, is the road rage antics.  They make me a nervous wreck.  In fact, when we were first dating, he started driving like a maniac with me in the car, and it got me so upset that I began to cry.  He doesn't seem to remember that, however, and so on his birthday, I reminded him.  He upset me by embarrassing me in front of our friend Lisa while driving---first he honked his horn at someone in front of him, "telling her to GO already."  I said, "you can NOT change anybody's behavior but your OWN. Honking your horn is NOT going to change that person's driving, so why do it at all?"

He turned to look at me, and yelled angrily, "YOU WANT TO TAKE OVER THE DRIVING?" as he moved to take the keys out of the ignition and unbuckle his seat belt.  I yelled right back, "NO."  He said, "Honking a horn at somebody is NOT road rage."  But, I disagree, because it's the WAY in which he does it.  He doesn't just honk ONCE....he LAYS on the horn.  That really is obnoxious and unnecessary.  One of these times, I've told him on many occasions, somebody's gonna have a GUN, and when you lay on the horn, you're going to get us both shot.

So, the rest of the ride to Cleveland was spent writing him an email, telling him off.  I didn't speak to him the rest of the way there.  How dare he disrespect me and treat me like shit in front of our friend like that?  If this is how our marriage is going to be, whenever I speak up and say something that I disagree about, then I guess I'm packing my suitcases and planning to leave this jerk.  That is the mood I was in when I wrote that email.  We got to Cleveland, he read the email, and he was super angry the rest of the night.  We sat in the dungeon, and did NOTHING the whole time we were there.  It was a wasted trip, and a boring evening, and I was peeved the whole time.

The next day, we get ready to take off for this hotel excursion for the New Years Eve party, and he sits in the passenger seat and hands me the keys.  It was his response to my declaration that I really hate riding with him whenever we go somewhere, because of his road rage.  Years ago, way before I was ever in his life, he actually hit a pedestrian and the woman died.  So, I reminded him of THAT too, in my email, because he seems not to have learned any lessons from it whatsoever.  The second the door shut, he started yelling about how dare I "throw that in his face," etc., and I said, "Well this is gonna be a GREAT way to start the new year, isn't it."

So after he got his yelling done, I said in the most calm voice I could muster, "Ya know what? I am not going to argue with you about this.  If it makes you feel better, and strokes your fragile male ego, I'll simply say "yes dear, you're right dear, and I'm wrong dear," and FUCK IT, now the whole thing is done and over with, and I won't talk about it anymore. How about THAT?"

A few minutes later, he was suddenly being nice.  However, a woman still fumes and seethes with rage from time to time, even if the outer facade is calm and poker-faced.  That's what I was doing the whole day.  So then, later, after a trip to the post office, I tell him I am hungry. He had resumed driving again, and asked where I wanted to stop for a bite to eat before we got to the hotel.  "I want to go swimming in the pool so let's just grab something quick," he said.  Well, I can tell when my sugar level is low, and it was starting to really get low at this point, so I said, "How about Long John Silvers?"  So we get in line at the drive thru, and there's this ONE CAR in front of us, taking FOREVER, I swear she must have ordered for 20 people.  We're sitting and waiting and sitting and waiting, and of course, Pete has ADD, so he has NO patience whatsoever.  He says, "Screw this," and takes off without paying for it, sick of waiting.  So I got no food.  He says, "You can get something at the hotel restaurant."

Fine.  Another half hour goes by, as we check in, get our bags and get settled into our room.  I checked my sugar, and it was 70.  Anything lower than 100 is not a good thing for a diabetic.  So he says, "I'm going to the pool. You can grab something at the restaurant, and then meet me there."  I walk down to the restaurant, way at the other end of the building, and I tell the waiter there that I need something FAST, with protein in it, so he suggests a chicken quesedilla...kay-sa-dee-ya.  I don't know how you spell that.  Fine, whatever, I don't care at this point.  But, for some reason, it took A HALF HOUR TO COOK IT...and in the meantime, I tell him to charge it to our room, but since we didn't have a credit card on file yet, he couldn't do that.  So I had to walk all the way BACK to our room, get some cash, and walk all the way BACK to the restaurant.  This is where the hour point passes, and my sugar is now down to 63.  I felt light headed, sick to my stomach, and like I was about to pass out.

Finally he brings me the stupid quesidilla, and I start to walk to the pool, munching on some of it on the way there.  I still felt awful though, and the whole place started to spin...I thought, "Good. Let me just crash into a diabetic coma and DIE right now, I'm so fed up with this world, this man, and my life. I really don't care anymore."  Swimming in a pool was MUCH more IMPORTANT apparently, than getting me food.  Thanks so much for that, you sonofabitch.  I was still fuming and seething, and this just added fuel to the fire.  I get to the pool, I walk in the door, and I very nearly fall down.

Pete waves me over to where he's sitting in the hot tub, with some woman, talking and laughing.....and I get there, give him a look, and he stops laughing....he finally seemed to understand that I was not feeling well, and something was wrong.  He gets out of the hot tub, walks over to me, and says, "Are you ok?" I shoot him these daggers that I'd been carrying around, but unable to express my upset, I simply said, "No."  He took me over to a table, and sat me down.  I ate the rest of the kay-sa-deeya (spelling?) but I still felt horrible. I told him my sugar was 63, or less, and I felt terrible, like I was going to pass out.  He then tells me to sit a little bit, and he goes over to some people sitting in the corner having food and laughing, and asks them for some popcorn for me.  They took one look at me, and said, "Is she ok? Do you need some medical help?"  I must have looked like death warmed over.  So they gave me some popcorn, of course, while Pete answered, "No she'll be fine."  I munched on the popcorn, he walked me around, and then suggested we go into the pool.

Now, if I had been in a normal state of mind at this moment, I would have told him to bite my ass.  But he led me into the pool, and my brain is slowly sluggishly thinking, "I could drown in here if I pass out." But he made me hold on to him around his neck and he just walked around the shallow end with me awhile, until I felt a little better.  My coloring returned a little while later, but I was extremely tired and needed to go lay down.  I told Pete this, and he said, "Well, the party starts in a couple hours, there may not be much time for you to lay down..."  but I really didn't give a shit about the party, ya know??

When the hell will I ever be top priority to somebody in this world??  Because it is obvious that I'm not.

I even said to him later, "Hey, what does it matter if I'm nearly passing out from low blood sugar from not eating anything, as long as YOU get to go SWIMMING."

Some people get so angry at their spouse, they actually shoot them or poison them or stab them, etc.  But not me.  I get angry to the point of, "I'll just make sure I DIE and that'll show him."  So I added that comment too.  "Ya know, maybe I should just stop eating altogether, and just DIE and get it over with, or maybe you should just drive like a maniac, and kill us BOTH and get it over with, just be quick with it because I am sick and goddamned tired of this fucked up life with you."

I think THAT jolted him into realizing that I very well COULD cause myself to die, and leave him all alone to take care of his own stupid mother from now on, by himself.  That's the only reason he wanted to marry me, you know.  I'm cheap labor.  Cheaper than having her spend all her money, (his inheritance) on a nursing home, or home care nursing.  That's the only real purpose I serve here with him.  Once she dies, he won't need me anymore, and I will most likely be out on my ass.

I'm being serious.  This is exactly how I feel about it, and that's how it seems to be playing out so far.  He's already starting to take me for granted, he's showing signs of being a control freak, a jerk, an asshole, and he's got me so aggravated all the time, I don't want anything to do with him anymore.

So yeah, I had 3 drinks....we each had 8 drink tickets....and I was ready to down all 8 of 'em, and THEN slide into a diabetic coma and die.  I was really feeling like I just wanted to end everything, I told him I am MISERABLE in the email, and that I have YET to feel much happiness with him, so what's the point of being married anymore???  It's obvious to ME that it's not going to work.  To him, however, he's just completely oblivious and in denial about it.  He doesn't seem to even want to TRY to stop his road rage, he just denies that he has it, and keeps doing the same things over and over again.  Even LISA, our friend who was with us that night, said at one point that his driving was "scary" to her, but he didn't seem to hear THAT either.  He only hears what he wants to hear, he only wants to do what HE wants to do, WHEN he wants to do it, and to HELL with everybody else with a differing opinion.  He's the most selfish human being I have ever known.

Happy New Year to me.  I just looked at the clock, and I have to go to my chiropractor.

Thanks for letting me vent.  I'm sure I'll get over it.  Until it happens next time, and piles on top of the unresolved conflicts and grows like a cancerous monster, destroying every ounce of what might have been a good marriage between Pete and me.  It has been a very depressing week, to say the least.

Bye for now.

Love, Rebecca