I think it was too hard to blog here, so I stopped a while. Much has happened. I made a decision in April to get engaged to him. Maybe I’m as fucked up in the head as he is…such is life. But I refuse to set a wedding date. There’s that.
I left him the day Michael Jackson died (that’s the only reason I remember what day it was); I packed some shit and left the house. I ended up going back, six hours later. What is this, baby steps? I guess. That was the first time I’ve made it out of the house. The other time I broke it off, I stayed and sobbed alone. Life is a bitch.
He had been doing really well. Then the ravenous animal that is alcoholism sucked him away from me again. This past weekend was horrendous. We went on a camping trip with some friends. He got plastered and proceeded to pick fights with me, in front of them all, for over two hours straight. The humiliation of it didn’t hit me until yesterday. The waves of anger coming over me made me so sick, I shut down.
The emotional manipulation is rampant. I can’t figure my way out of this. I don’t know if I want to be out of it, yet. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. I’m tired of it but I’m scared of life outside of it.
To people outside of this situation, those who have never dealt with an alcoholic – they wonder what it is, wonder what keeps me here. But their anger at the situation and frustration do not help me.
Monday I proceeded to talk to him in a calm manner about his lack of communication skills. Basically what he does is bottle shit up inside and won’t talk to me, then gets really drunk and proceeds to lay it all out. I told him it’s not fair and unacceptable. When he’s drunk I have no way of communicating to him my thoughts on whatever the subject may be. That got me thinking, if he knew how to communicate, would he feel the need to get drunk to drown his issues and stresses away? I don’t know.