Avoiding

So I'm avoiding calling, I'm avoiding posting because I know what I'm supposed to do. I just haven't done it.

I'm no expert but for me I guess there is a time period for each step. As in, 1--decide I need help, 2--get counselor # and insurance info, 3--call and set it up...

I am stuck between 2 and 3. I think I'm still in the "accepting I need help and really taking this outside our house" phase. (besides taking it into the web world!)

Thank you for your support and encouragement. It's been hard for me to think I'm going to have to talk, in person, to another human being about what I've kept in our home for so long. (I guess that makes it all that much more real, if that makes any sense?)

I will keep you posted because you are my outlet and support forum!

Maybe I Should Get Him Earplugs...

I went out tonight to get some things at the store. I came home, parked in the driveway (I'm painting something in the garage right now so we aren't parking in there/coming in through there), and came in the front door--which was locked.

He was so irritated at how loud the key turned in the door. It disturbed him (he was napping on the couch.) He was, well--disgusted with me.

I think he hates me.

(No I didn't call yet, yes I'm still going to.)

Counseling Update

So, I've decided I need it.

And I have the number to call.

I just haven't called yet.

But I will. Just don't know when.

Ok, This Is Not Good

I am sneaking food now.

I am not talking about the occasional lunch stop for a fast food burger and fries and just not telling Mr. D. I am talking about the 3 blizzards I had in the last 4 days and I felt I had to throw out the "evidence" before he saw it. I am talking about the potato chips I bought and ate in the car so he wouldn't see. I am talking about snacking on things when he isn't looking and now craving all things bad (food-wise) because I feel like I shouldn't have them.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

This is not good.

Oh, are you wondering why I am doing this? It's most likely because of the pie incident and because Mr. D recently said to me, "We really need to lose some weight, huh?"

(I need to lose 5 lbs, he needs to lose 20 for us both to get back to our wedding weight.)

OR.................................

I need to stop blaming others and take responsibility for my own actions???? I guess I shouldn't say he is the reason why I eat, blah blah blah.

I will just add this to the list of things to talk to the counselor about! It's getting pretty long.

He Wants to Read a Book

Today, about 5pm, here's what our house looked like:

The girls are all over the place, playing with toys, getting hungry for dinner, being loud, normal toddler girls.

I am in our kitchen, beginning to get dinner ready (remember that's where the LOUD kitchen sink is--Yikes!).

Mr. D is on the couch (as usual) reading a book (nice to have the tv off though).

I said something to him of very low importance, can't remember what. He looked up, irritated to have been interrupted from reading. Said something back, then went back to reading.

Five minutes go by, and the girls are still playing and I'm still in the kitchen, which is open to the family room. And I forgot. I forgot he was reading. I forgot I shouldn't interrupt him while he is trying to read a book in the family room amongst 2 small children playing in the middle of the day while his wife is cooking just feet from him. I said something to him, I don't know, about next weekend or the weather or something.

And he just got nasty. Dramatically threw the book aside, sighing loudly, rolling his eyes (my personal favorite), saying, "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" I quickly realized my huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge mistake and apologized, saying sorry I forgot you were reading. Then, he's all--well I put the book down, so what's so important? Of course it wasn't important, I was just making some dumb small talk so when I repeated it, he was like that's fine, whatever. And he went back to reading.

Cue my bad luck here.

Then less than 10 minutes later, I went to check on dinner, which was on the grill. The gas had run out and dinner was nowhere near done. We have an extra tank in the garage. But I can't swap them out. Heck, I can barely carry one, right?

So I head in, knowing I'm in for it now. He's reading. I sweetly (as sweet as possible), softly ask, "Honey?"

More dramatic expressions implying how could I be in his world, this is the worst thing that's ever happened to him, etc. What a selfish baby. He changes the tanks and on the way back to his book whines, like a little kid, "I just want to read my book!"

I told him to go finish it in the bedroom! Ha

I Guess I Need Help...

So, I've been thinking it over and I've decided that, yes, I should see a counselor.

I haven't worked out the details yet: should I go alone, then ask Mr. D to come too? is this counseling for me and the way I see my world or should it be marriage counseling? does insurance pay for it? if I decide to go just me, how do I bring it up to Mr. D?

By the way, over the weekend Mr. D said to me, "Honey, I've talked to all my friends and they have it ten times worse than I do." (on the subject of relationships/marriage) Soooooooooooo I guess this means he thinks his grass is greener sometimes??? Interesting to me though, is how he worded it "worse than me..." as in HE thinks HE'S got it bad? I should show him my blog!

Ha! Just kidding, I think the ramifications of that would be catastrophic.

On the upside though I guess it's good that all he has to do is talk to his buddies to realize I am a good companion/homemaker/wife/partner/whathaveyou.

Whatever! I'll ride this high out for as long as he will... (until the next bad thing happens at work, of course!)

My SUV and a Piece of Pie

Last week, we went over my sister's house for dinner. Two things happened that made me feel, once again, like Mr. D sees me as a second-class citizen.

We took my car and Mr. D drove it (the car seats for the girls are in there so we always take my car when we do family things instead of switching car seats around or buying extra; sometimes I drive and he's in the passenger seat, sometimes vice versa). He was stressed about his terrible work day (what's new?) and we went over a few bumps where there was some construction.

He went off! You would think that I went and purposely had him drive over the bumps in my SUV (which take the bumps not as smoothly as his business sedan but not terribly by any means). He screamed about what a piece of **** my car is, how can I drive this, what am I doing to the car to make it like this, blah blah blah. (Ummmmm, he is actually the one who strongly encouraged me to get this particular vehicle back in 2006.)

So, let's recap. Mr. D drives my car, hits bumps, yells at me, I blame it on how rough work is for him lately, and apologize for having a crappy car (even though it's not).

And we haven't even gotten to my sister's yet!

Fast forward to dinner. Dessert, actually. We had a few things to choose from: cheesecake and pie. I had cheesecake. Then my sister asked me if I would please try this new pie recipe she made. Of course I said yes! What happened next is (what I believe is) foolproof emotional abuse from Mr. D.

He grabbed my hip/butt area (no one saw this) and shook it.

(So, right now I do have about 5-7 pounds to lose but come on.)

I say this is foolproof because I can't prove he did it to be mean (he's done stuff like this before, that I just can't prove). I know I could be just cynical or pessimistic. When I question him, he's like, "What, I can't grab my wife?" And I guess that really could be it, you know, just terrible timing. That it just so happens to be right after I agree to a second piece of dessert. And when I call him out on it, he acts so innocent.

Needless to say, I had that piece of pie but did not enjoy it.

I read one of Geneen Roth's columns in Good Housekeeping recently and the one thing that stood out was when she said something along the lines of "shame never leads to long term change." I read that part to Mr. D (days after the pie incident) and of course he didn't make any connections. (Remember, he's acting under the premise that he doesn't care if I eat an extra dessert...)

And so our secrets continue. The car thing, whatever. The dessert thing, I would be too mortified to tell my friends/parents he did that. I can't believe I take it. I am so ashamed; I would never want my girls to end up with someone like their father.