I want to start out by saying, my husband is trying to learn how to be less of an asshole. Unfortunately, he had 37 years on this earth before he met me, that has shaped him into the asshole that he is. He is just now at the age of 45 realizing he needs help. This is not something that I necessarily want to take on, as a fucking tired ass 40 year old, full time working parent, but here we are. I could walk away now, give myself the rest and peace that I deserve. But I also know something about me, and that is that I don't think I could ever be happy with anyone. I have a lot of shitty qualities. I'm messy, I don't ask for help enough, I interrupt people when they talk, I am loud, I want you to do what I want to do and I don't want to do what you want to do, I spend too much money, I do things too quickly and I don't plan well. I go through life like a wrecking ball and that is only a small part of it. And I want to work on these things about myself. I don't want to constantly be picking up the pieces of the disasters that I have created. And with all of that, I'm demanding and spoiled and never satiated.
Being in this relationship has really taught me a lesson in all of these things. Despite my husband being the way that he is, I also can be pretty shitty.
We should both probably be living alone and never put anyone through having to live with us. But instead, we live together. And we both want to. We both want to be married to each other and we both love each other. But man it's fucking hard.
With all of that out there let's get to the meat of it.
I had written a blog post a few days ago, about being patient while waiting on every one to wake up. The day before that, we had a long perfectly successful trip to OWA Tropic Falls and theme park and a stop for ice cream.
The day before, when we arrived, we were treated to dinner at Tin Top restaurant in Foley. We witnessed a very drunk man trying to drive home. My husband's aunt and uncle tried to offer him a ride home but he refused. He had hurt himself somehow and had blood all over his side. He had almost fallen down the ramp too, but the railing caught him hard. I'm sure he was hurting from that. As I was calling 911, some big surley men stopped him by reaching in and taking the keys out of his ignition. I thanked the deputy on the other end of the line but let him know someone had it handled.
After I wrote that last blog post, about me waiting on everyone to get going, I continued to practice my patience. We did not get to the beach until almost 1230 pm. The kids had a small late breakfast and we hastily packed some cheese crackers.
My husband wanted to go to Fort Morgan where he used to vacation with his family as a child, so we put Morgantown on the GPS and drove an extra 10 minutes than we would have if we would have gone to Gulf Shores. But I generously allowed this, despite already leaving 5 hours later than I had wanted to, so that he could go down memory lane. We found the old beach house that's now dilapidated and abandoned, still owned by the grandchildren of his grandparents’ best friends, that he used to play with. He told me that his grandpa's best friend tried to get him to buy the lot next to the one he bought, but he told him there's no way he was going to pay 1k for a a plot of sand. 1 thousand dollars that would most certainly go for a few hundred thousand or more now. Maybe a million. So, they would go there a week or two out of the year to vacation with their family.
We circled back around to the public beach access and parked further down the road in the grass as to avoid getting the Maxima stuck. It was insanely hot, scorching. I put sunscreen on the kids before we started walking. It wouldn't have been this hot at 8 am. The sand was almost too hot to walk on so we had to reach the shore line and put our stuff down next to the wet sand so we could bear it. The kids were already upset from the heat and not having been sufficiently fed. I already knew this would be a quick trip. But despite their ill moods, they were still excited to be at the beach. With the kids donning their floaties and life jackets, we entered the water. I immediately started feeling like something was biting me. I asked the toddler if he was burning or itching and he said no. But I looked back and my friend’s daughter was running back to the beach and scratching. I left the 3 year old with my husband No one else was complaining so I thought maybe the salt water was bothering our sun burns a little. I went to check on her. My husband and son started up with the toddler a moment later who was now crying from itching. So we put the ice packs keeping our drinks cold on the kids skin, and downed our sodas and water. They ate their crackers. They fed a bird some crackers. After the bird flew away, they wanted back in the water.
The girl only ventured to ankle deep water but my son took the three year old a little further out shin deep to jump little waves, still not far away. All of a sudden I hear a scream coming from them and my son yelled “jellyfish got both of our feet.” The toddler ran towards my husband, held out his arms and said “mommy”, and then had a meltdown in his lap. We put the now warm ice pack on his foot that was turning a purplish red where the little jellyfish had stung him and he yelled that he wanted it to be cold. I told him we would get some ice at a store and he said no, he wanted ice cream. My husband asked him if that would make it better and he said yes. So we promised him ice cream after lunch. It was a tiny jellyfish my son had said. And he saw it get both of them. My son's ankle was a little red too. We packed up and everyone now in ill moods, trecked across the sand back to our car, with a screeching toddler and stuff falling down into the sand out of our hands every few steps. The toddler had yelled at the ocean before we left and spit at it. No lie.
I said something about how we always seemed to run into these issues when we go to beaches that are less frequented or in wildlife preserves. My husband took this as criticism. I corrected what I said so he could get my meaning and mentioned that it's happened to us before without him, that I wasn't blaming. The car was filled with sand as we didn't have anyway of rinsing it off at this beach, and we headed back to his aunt and uncle's house. The toddler who thought we were going straight home to see his parents after his meltdown, had another little meltdown when he saw where he was, “I don't want to have a rest here!” and then another as we hosed the sand off of him outside. He was angry after that. But I had de-sanded them enough outside to take them inside to shower them off one at a time. We fed them a late lunch of pizza, sandwiches and veggies and then quickly and hastily packed up all of our shit and packed it in the car. We were leaving about 5 hours later than I had wanted to and 5 hours later than we had told his aunt and uncle we were leaving, who had made plans with other people and were trying to get us the fuck out of there, nicely. As we pulled off at 4:45 pm, my son announced we still had not taken him to the comic book store in Foley and the kids reminded us that we promised them ice cream. Thank the fucking stars that the ice cream/candy shop was across the street from the comic book store.
There's also a new and used book store and a video and movie rental store all on this one block. Like a little corner of heaven. The toddler was falling asleep eating the ice cream, so I helped him, while everyone else was finished and back inside looking for candy. I fed him too fast, him welcoming the onslought of ice cream, and then stopped to announced he had just thrown up a little in his mouth but wanted more. I said I believed he had enough. I had only fed him four bites but he had been working on it before starting to fall asleep. We didn't get back to Crestview until 7:30 pm. Around 6:30 I looked over to my husband and asked if him if he understood now why I had wanted to get to the beach early. He just nodded. We realized that I had left my friends tote with the kids snacks and medicine in the pantry of his aunt and uncle's house from trying to rush out. After the kids went to sleep, we stayed up all night talking and drinking. I killed a bottle of wine and my husband had a few shots of bourbon. My friend took the rare opportunity to help me help my husband understand some things after her husband crashed and went to bed. I kept popping my titty out too and when she went inside for a moment, my husband told me I was being inappropriate. When she walked out I popped it out again and asked if her if she cared. She balked at this and told me how nice my tits were and she didn't mind. She assured my husband I never popped it out in front of her husband. We didn't go to bed until 4 am. Then we were up a little before 7 am. My son was the only one still asleep. I was outside smoking a cigarette from the vacation pack I had bought the evening before, and my husband was vaping. I asked my husband if he wanted to go walk on the beach before we headed back to Bham. He surprised me by saying yes, and that he wanted to get in the water too. So we said our goodbyes and left for Fort Walton Beach and ate breakfast at a restaurant called The Breakfast Place. We looked up old pictures and videos of my son at the beach as a toddler while we were waiting on our food. After we ate, we headed for the Okaloosa Island boardwalk (they have showers). I was sitting in the shade at the boardwalk putting on sun screen and my husband started to complain that we were taking too long. “We are at the beach. We are not on your schedule. We are on sunscreen’s schedule”. I stood up and realized a woman laughing at us and said that we reminded her of her and her husband and then we swapped quick sunburn anecdotes when her husband emerged from the bathroom. She said she was going to have to remember “we are on sunscreen’s schedule.”
This photo shows my cute toes and swollen wine feet. I'm too old for this shit.
We spent the morning in the ocean. My husband played with me and kissed me and held me. He was spinning me around and I saw a beautiful women and I said “turn me back the other way”, after he moved me away from the view. He laughed but obliged and said “something is wrong with you” as he kissed me. We saw the woman again a few moments later. She was with her partner and he was carrying her in the water. He grabbed me again shortly after that and was holding me the same way. My son said he was trying to be like them. I told him he had already been doing something similar but maybe he was learning how to be a good husband by “observing real romance in the wild”. I was extremely tired and hungover and after an hour of the ocean waves, I was starting to get a little sea sick. We had also realized that my husband left his wallet and keys. We had to go back to their city to get home anyway so we stopped back by. I hugged my friend and we grieved our departure again.
Everything had been going so good. I had been throbbing for days over vacation mode husband.
On the way home I was so happy. Tired, but happy. We were having a great time, singing songs on the radio, still looking up old photos and videos of my son for a while. My husband's hands were starting to bother him from driving and I offered to drive. He said we'd switch at Peach Park.
When we approached Montgomery on I-65, there was a lot of traffic and people were swerving in and out of lanes. My husband had his cruise control set and in the fast lane but people were starting to brake frequently and he tends to get on people's ass. He knows this causes me anxiety but he doesn't care. I asked him to slow down and get away from the crazy people. He told me to “let him drive”. At one point, someone started to come over on the car a few cars ahead in front of us and my husband was simultaneously coming up fast on a braking car and I yelled “please please slow down and get away from these people”. My husband then yelled for me to “shut the fuck up and not say another fucking word and let him drive”. I immediately shut down…PTSD. I closed my eyes, crying. Mad. Still anxious. How can things be so good and then he does this? None of that is worth it if it means that we still end up here in this place of pain. We sat in silence a long time. Right before we approached exit 205, he tried to hold my hand. “You need to apologize to me” I said. But he took his hand away and started pointing his finger at me and telling me I was wrong for screaming at him while he was driving and that my “mental health issues” are going to cause him to wreck. I shut down again and he tells me that now I am acting like a child. I just said that I wasn't going to talk to him or act like everything is okay until he apologized. He refused to come into peach Park. He sat there in the car. I went inside and used the bathroom. We had already picked up Burger King for my son so he stayed in the car with him. I ordered my food and ate after using the restroom. I took my time. My phone died. I had not realized it was down to 2 percent when we arrived in Clanton. When I got back into the car, my husband asked sarcastically if I enjoyed my food and said “thank you for ruining a perfectly good day”. I scoffed and began charging my phone. We continued the drive in silence. When my phone turned on, I received a text message from my son who asked if I was okay. He had sent it while I was eating. I replied back that I was, and that I hope he could see that this wasn't me, and that I wasn't ruining the day and texted that I hope he knew it wasn't okay to talk to women, or people, like that. He said he did and I told him I loved him and sent him a GIF of Beverly from the Goldbergs, whom he often compares me too.
None of us said anything out loud until we got home. While I was unloading the car, now with my ear buds in, he tried to stop me again to explain why I had ruined everyone's time with my anxiety attack. I walked passed him, ignoring him. I unpacked, started some laundry and took a bath. After that, I tried to read my book, but passed out around 7 pm. I know my husband came in at some point and asked if I was sleeping and it woke me up. I said “no” for some reason, I think. At midnight I woke up again. I realized then he had never came to bed. I sat there a while and then grabbed my Satisfyer Pro. I imagined that he was someone else that I had vacationed with. This person didn't have a face but he wasn't my husband. He was gentle with me when I was hurting or anxious, not mean and cruel. My orgasm filled me with sudden euphoria, then sadness, then sleep found me again. My husband woke me up this morning with a half assed apology, but it was a start. I walked him through the rest. He also apologized all on his own that he didn't apologize sooner, but that he had to sit and figure out what it was he was sorry for. He didn't think he was sorry for yelling at me to get me to stop screaming but sorry that he cussed at me. I told him the next time we go to a crowded bar and he tells me he has to get out of there because of his anxiety, I would yell at him to get over it and tell him to shut the fuck up and stop letting his mental health issues ruin my good time.
I am still pissed off. Very. My son's father constantly yelled and screamed and cussed at me and I will not tolerate that shit. I told him I wanted very badly to leave him and get as far away from this relationship as I could yesterday. If he does it again, I am gone. He told me that he apologized to my son last night but told him “I had to get her to stop yelling”. I told him he had to apologize again, but this time without a “but”. We teach him that apologies do not come with a butt, so we have to practice what we preach.
This morning after he woke up and my husband had left for work, my son informed me what really happened. He walked in on my husband sleeping on the couch (he put himself there) and asked why he didn't just apologize. He said “I don't want to lie”. He did say that he admitted he should not have cussed at me. I made sure that he knew the lesson here. I walked him through how to handle a friend or his girlfriend having a panic attack. I apologized for him having to deal with our relationship issues and he said he really didn't hear any of the yelling due to his noise cancelling headphones, so he didn't know what was going on until after I went into Peach Park alone. I was thankful for that. I feel guilty over him not having seen his mother being treated the way she deserves.
My husband still hasn't used his EAP and made the appointment with the therapist. This is something that he's going to have to do this week, or he will get a whole lot of cold shoulder coming from my direction.
I probably have less time on this earth than I have already lived. Why am I wasting what precious time I have left trying to fix this broken man?