thinking about “rough morning”

There is something I’ve been thinking about from the conversation Thursday morning. When he told me that he wanted sex and asked what he had to do to get sex and said, fix the roof, fix the floors, buy cars for our daughters, it was like saying, if he spent enough money, would I have sex with him.

Could he pay me to have sex?

Is that what he was saying?  That is what I have ended up feeling like.  “I do something for you, you do something for me.”

To me, that is NOT what sex is.

Sex, rather, making love, is a loving expression of the whole relationship, a loving, a caring, a sharing, a giving of oneself, an enjoyment of the other.

Yes, we have a physical need for sex, built of hormones – and, believe me, I have plenty of hormones!  But if I just wanted sex, or wanted money and was willing to trade sex for money, I am sure there are plenty of men on any street corner who would gladly oblige me.

(Even the Fed Ex delivery man was hitting on me this week.)

What I want is the relationship to go along with the love making.  It’s a whole package.  And it is not contingent upon someone laying out the money to fix the roof.  I think I could live in a shack if I truly felt loved and valued.

What “WritesinPJ’s” commented (“What he didn’t seem to do was feel or express or reflect empathy.”) is absolute right.  There was no empathy.  I tried to tell him about my pain but it did not seem to even register.

And how do you explain anything to someone who has no empathy?  How do you have relationship with someone who has no empathy?  There can’t even be a starting place to improve the relationship.  Yes, maybe I could be a “better wife” – I DO have empathy, maybe too much empathy at times – but if he has no clue about my pain, how can he have any kind of response to that pain?

Posted in covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, relationships | Tagged , | 10 Comments

two outta three…

“I wanted to wash the dishes for you before you got home, but I didn’t have time because of going to Wal-Mart [for himself] and picking blueberries [for himself and his mom].”


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rough morning, rough day

This morning, my husband and I talked for a long time. (I was forty-five minutes late to work.)

We’ve been going to different churches for several months now and he thinks I should go to the same church that he does.  So he was telling me all the reasons why I should go to his church.

I told him that I don’t feel led by God to go to the church that he goes to.  I told him, too, that I feel like such a hypocrite to sit beside him in church as a couple when our marriage is nothing, meaningless, non-existent.

He told me that wives should accept their husbands if the husbands are basically decent men.  He said that no one is perfect and that wives shouldn’t expect their husbands to be perfect.

He said that I should accept him.

I told him that I struggled with this because for fifteen years now, I haven’t been able to have sex with him without crying, that my daughters don’t have a daddy.

He said he didn’t know about the sex [as in, he didn't have an answer as to why sex makes me cry] and he said that I had decided that he wasn’t good enough so our daughters followed me and decided that he wasn’t good enough, too.

I told him that he wasn’t involved with his daughters.  He said that he was, that it was wrong for me to say that he wasn’t a daddy to them.

He said that he tries very hard to be a good husband for me, that I have decided that since he is not perfect, then he is not good enough.

I told him that I don’t feel loved and treasured and taken care of.   I told him that part of that was my own wounds, but that part of that also was that the marriage was empty.

He said that he wanted us to do things together.  I told him that even when we are “together” that we are still not connected, that it is an emotional thing and it is not there.

Then he brought up our anniversary (Aug. 2) and asked me what I wanted to do.  He said that we could go out to dinner or go to the mountains or the beach for a couple of days.

At first I told him that I didn’t know, but then I asked him if he had not heard all the things I had said about the way I felt about our marriage, the emptiness, the pain.

He said he did hear, but that last year he made me dinner for our anniversary but he didn’t say anything about our anniversary and I got upset.  So this year, he wanted to say something so I wouldn’t get upset.

I told him that I would think about it and I told him thank you for bringing up our anniversary and not ignoring it.

Finally I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to talk about.

He said that he wanted to have sex with me.

I told him that it makes me cry and makes me want to kill myself.  He asked me what he needed to do so he could have sex with me – fix the roof, fix the floors, buy cars for our daughters.  (This was said sarcastically.)

I told him that it wasn’t about money.  I told him that my crying pre-dated the leaking roof, the rotting floor, and our daughters needing cars.  I told him that it had to do with the relationship.

He asked me what I wanted him to do so we could have sex.  I told him that I didn’t know.  He said that we would work on it.

Finally he left so I could get ready to go to work.

I felt like so much life had been sucked out of me.  It’s hard to explain.

I cried and cried and cried.  I cried all the way to work.  I even had to leave work for a few minutes to go outside and cry.

I had a really rough day emotionally because of the morning.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Posted in covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, relationships | Tagged , , , , , , | 11 Comments

saying yes instead of no

He asked me if I wanted to meet him at a certain restaurant near where I work for dinner tonight.

Well, I don’t.

But I said, sure.

Why don’t I give myself a voice?  Why don’t I say, well, no, not really, no, I don’t want to meet you for dinner?

Why do I protect his feelings, but not protect my feelings?

And maybe the bigger questions are – although the “whys” may help in the process to the bigger questions -

How do I change?


WHEN do I change?

I have a friend in another country who says something to the effect that if you like the way things are going, then keep doing the things you are doing.  But if you don’t like the way things are going, then do something different.

A few minutes ago, I was thinking – what is one thing that I could do different today?

And you’re all saying, “tell him no!”

Maybe I’m not brave enough for that yet.

But I’ll see if I can come up with one thing to do different, so maybe my life will start to be different.

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You know how you have one of those days when you wake up feeling already behind and beaten before you even start?

And you haven’t gotten enough sleep so you live the day on the verge of tears because when you haven’t gotten enough sleep, everything becomes too much.

And nothing really goes wrong, but nothing really goes right.

You make it through the day with no one catching you crying and you act like a grown up when all you want to do is curl up somewhere like a little girl and be loved.

But you suck it up and you put on your big girl pants and you do what you have to do – all day long.

Fortunately, the weather is lovely and the clouds are beautiful so you sit in your van with the door open for a few minutes and just breathe after doing forty-five minutes and three miles at level eleven on the elliptical trainer after work.  And for one brief moment in time, you think you might actually make it.

You survive the grocery shopping and you make it home to prepare your lunch for the next couple of days.

Before beginning food prep, you decide to open your bedroom window.  After all, there is all that lovely weather out there.

And just when you think that maybe you’ll make it through the day without going completely insane – after all, there is only lunch to make and a shower to take and then you can go sleep – you look out your bedroom window that you are opening…

…. and you see….

….  a very large, bright blue, rectangular, heavy plastic – PVC?, container-thing.

Seriously?  You have got to be kidding me?  Really?  REALLY?

I don’t even know how to describe this tub to you.  I don’t know what it was originally designed for but it is about four feet tall, four feet wide, and at least six feet long.  It used to be at his dad’s house, out in the yard, with all kinds of other stuff.

And it is not out by The Fort.  It is not by his storage shed.  It is not by the back corner of the house where it is not really visible from a window.  It is not even outside the window at the other end of the bedroom.  It is out my bedroom window.  Not that I actually look out my bedroom window much, but really?

I ask him what he is going to do with it and he tells me that it is his swimming pool.  I ask him where he is going to put it.  (These questions are asked very calmly.  Of course, I am screaming and screaming and screaming inside, but I am asking the questions calmly.)  He says he doesn’t know where he is going to put it.  I don’t ask any more questions.


I’m breathing again now.

And I will finish making my lunch for tomorrow.  And I will take my shower.  And I will go to sleep.

Posted in covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, relationships | Tagged , , | 6 Comments


I’ve been in denial about how much damage my marriage has done to my daughters, about how much damage my husband has done to my daughters.

I simply have blocked it out, not thought about it.

I couldn’t face it.

I’m trying to face it now.  But I am not sure how.

They are in so much pain.  They are struggling.

They do well in school; they do well at work; they have friends they hang out with.

But they are in so much pain.

I don’t know how to face this.

Posted in covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, relationships | Tagged , | 11 Comments

a day off…

You know what I hate about days off?

He takes the day off, too.

(He has his own business; he pretty much works – or doesn’t work – whenever he chooses.)

I’ve been looking forward to having today off all week long.  Well, actually, even longer than that.  Sleeping in.  Doing stuff around the house.  Enjoying a long week-end.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think about that he, too, would want to sleep in and do stuff around the house.

I turned off my alarm last night so it wouldn’t go off this morning.  It was wonderful to just sleep.  When I woke up, I thought, oh, he’ll get out of bed soon and then I can lie in bed all by myself for awhile.


He finally did get up and go to the bathroom.

Now, I thought, now I can have the bed to myself.

No such luck.  He got back into bed.

And then he started talking about the chickens: the cute sounds they make, how they are saying that they should be out in the yard already even if it is the Fourth of July.

I had already cried while he was in the bathroom.  Now I just wanted to scream and scream.

I couldn’t even think straight.  I couldn’t even come up with a Plan B since he was interfering with my Plan A.

And then he turned on his side and put his hand on me.

That was the breaking point.

I slapped his hand off, jumped out of bed, and left the bedroom, slamming the door.   Still in my nightgown, I went outside and got into my van and cried and cried and cried.  I prayed God would just kill me so I wouldn’t have to do this anymore.  I told God that I just couldn’t do it.

I felt like such a basket case, so insane, completely off my rocker.  Completely irrational.

I really didn’t want to come back in the house.  At least my daughter can hide in her room.  There is nowhere I can hide.  Except the bathroom.  But I was hungry and needed to eat.  So I finally came in the house.

He wasn’t in bed anymore; he was at the computer at the other end of the bedroom.  I at least had my little “space” where I sit on the floor with my laptop.  I got my breakfast and sat down to the companionship of the internet.

After a little bit, he came over and asked me why I hit him.

I told him that I didn’t hit him.

He said that I did hit him and that I almost broke his finger.

I told him that I didn’t mean to do that.  I told him I was trying to brush his hand off me, that I didn’t want him touching me.

He stared at me for awhile, but didn’t say anything else.  Then he left the bedroom and I heard him go out the front door.

I hope he has a lovely day with his chickens.

Actually, yesterday he said he was going to work on “The Fort” and then later go to some open house thing at a place in another city.

Maybe I will at least get the house to myself for most of the day.

Anyhow, I still can’t think very straight this morning.  There is a book I have been reading and I think it is having a huge impact, so huge I can’t even process it, on my emotions.  But maybe it will be part of a healing process for me.  We’ll see.

I’ll tell you about it another time.

I hope your enjoy your Fourth of July celebration, whatever it may be.  A couple of my siblings and their families will come over on Sunday and we will have our annual cook-out.

When I was in the van, I was wishing (I’m really, really good at wishing) that somehow, by some miracle, that today could be my Independence Day.

I wish an Independence Day for you, too.

Posted in covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, relationships | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

So. Just stop it.

Originally posted on Live & Learn:


Source: art42

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sex tonight – the rest of the story

(See previous post.)

Friday morning, after I got to work, I texted him, suggesting what I could make for dinner.  Recently, he has been making dinner on Friday nights fairly often.  But this Friday morning,  he had been kind of moody and he didn’t say anything about making dinner Friday night.

I didn’t want to get home after work and have no dinner, so I took the initiative to bring up dinner.

He didn’t reply to my text.

Finally, around noon, he replied:

Really I just need sex.  What can I do for us to be able to make love tonight?

My initial reaction was, you can love me.

But I didn’t say that.

Then I started shaking and feeling sick to my stomach.  I felt that way for most of the rest of the day.

But it was strange.  Sometimes I would completely forget the text conversation had ever taken place.  Completely.

I really wrestled with what to say, what to do.

I really, like really, did not want to have sex with him.  But I also felt sorry for him.

And I felt guilty.

Finally, late in the afternoon, I texted him:


I dreaded going home.  But I went home and made dinner.  He was very talkative and cheerful.

Me –  not so much.

Finally I took my shower, dreading what was coming.

I had planned how I could handle it.

First, nothing lasts forever, so it would end.  I could hold onto that thought.

There were cookies under my bed.  I could eat cookies all day Saturday to stuff the wretched feelings.

I could go sleep on the couch when he was done.

I could get through this.

When I finished my shower and went out of the bathroom, he was in bed, lying flat on his back, completely covered up, with his eyes closed.

Not what I expected.

I turned off the light and got into bed.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t say anything.

Nothing at all.

Absolutely nothing.

A few minutes later, I could tell he was asleep!

I was SO happy!  You can image my relief!!!

Finally, I went to sleep, too.

I thought maybe he would try for some Saturday morning, but he didn’t speak to me all morning.

The Silent Treatment.

That’s okay.  I didn’t mind.

(Well, mostly I didn’t mind.  But it is a stressful way to live.

He said nothing about sex at all all day Saturday.  And nothing all day today (Sunday) about it either.

And now you know … the rest of the story.

Posted in covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, relationships | Tagged | 12 Comments

sex tonight…

He wants sex tonight.

I want to die.

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