Self imposed darkness

Yesterday went relatively well, through about ten in the evening.  He didn’t pick up after himself, he didn’t contribute, but at least he didn’t take away from anything either.  He had himself a nice, calm day and I was hopeful. 

I cleaned for a little while making the kitchen somewhat liveable.  Hallway halfway decent.  Living room got a nice jumpstart on neatness (all while he played video games).  Then I ordered dinner, dished it out lalala.  We watched some moronic flic on the computer that, although I didn’t want to see, I knew he did.  Then I had a few things I had to take care of so I left the dog and him alone.

I could hear them in the other room playing, which is usually rough, then suddenly the dog was yelping.  I ran in after the second yelp to see him kicking the dog.  Apparently the dog had peed in his excitement so this supposedly justified it.  I yelled for him to stop and the dog came running to hide by me.  He started telling me, “hit him, hit him.”  Which I would NOT do.  When I said no, he said it again, I said no again and he said it again showing no signs of stopping – so I screamed, “I am not hitting the fucking dog.”  At that he came at me screaming in my face, spit flying.  He told me not to look at him (which I was more than happy to do) but then he told me to face down, put my eyes down and submit – well, NO.  I am not the dog, I am not beneath him, Hell, I’m not even in love with him any more so why the hell would I grovel.  This made him nutz so he put his hands around my throat and backed me into the shower.  The hands on throat did upset me as much as the memory of cracking my head in the shower.  Still, no submission.

He left the bathroom, got the dogs leather collar and started beating him with it.  I started screaming and let him know I was calling the cops.  Finally, he stopped and turned toward me where he started to choke me with the collar.  For a while although I did not lose consciousness.  He backed off, I walked away, the dog went in the yard.  He sat, with the now broken phone, laughing at a sitcom.  He had the nerve to call me “Babe, you should see this.”  I sat, numb, in the kitchen hating his guts.

He told me to go ahead in the living room, he’ll stay away from me.  To keep the peace, I did.  He came out twice to try acting like everything should be fine.  Everything was NOT fine and I wasn’t going to pretend it was.  I was up most of last night on the couch, he got a good night’s sleep in my bed. 

This morning he gets up like everything should have blown over.  I wasn’t going with that program.  He wanted to know what my problem was – I said, you fuckin choked me, what do you think.  He started buggin out about how he’s ill, I’m rational, I should give in and submit if it will make him feel better lalala.  I was not going with the program there either.  He argued all morning until I was extremely late for work.  We ended with me leaving since, as he put it, I decided that our home life meant nothing, it was a waste of my time.  We ended with him telling me I’m a bad mother because my children joined the military.  We ended where we began, with him feeling self righteous, me hating him, and nothing getting better.  Not even close.  Him declaring that he will not seek hope and keep he, and I, barely surviving in his self imposed darkness.

I’m at work now, I’ll work throughout the day without break to make up the time, I’ll wonder all day how much of my home is being shattered as I type this, how many of his “friends” he’ll bring in the house, and what awaits me when I return home this evening. 

Yes, without a doubt, we are not going to be together once manic passes.  He will need to go and get help, and I will need to go as far away from him as I can.

Peace