I don’t really know what I’m going to write today, I’m just going to go with this and see where it gets me.
I’ve been struggling a lot lately … running my daughter to countless doctor’s appointments, sometimes driving 65 miles one way three or four times a week to Grand Rapids. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching and helping her to heal, and I wouldn’t have things any other way … well, there is that one thing, that glaringly simple thing:
I NEED HELP. I have been looking for work, but can’t seem to find anything, and I believe the reason for that is that my daughter needs me more than I need the money. So, when I’m driving back and forth, I kind of, sort of feel like I ought to be getting some help with the house.
I’ll give my husband credit where it is due, most weeks he works 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. Yet, recently he has had quite a few days off and still, no one that is at home can figure out that dinner time is approaching and maybe someone should cook. Nope, that’s my job, because they all have work and school. They have days off to relax, according to them I get to relax every day.
With everything heaping on top of me I finally blow a gasket and I bitch. The reaction is that someone slips an anxiety pill into my medication box. Granted, they are prescribed to me, and they are for an as needed basis. There’s just one problem, anxiety pills don’t stop others from being assholes, it just stops me from being awake to realize that they are being assholes.
My house is cluttered, because “As a wife and mother, you are not doing your job.” Oh, wait, was that him that knocked an empty soda bottle on to the floor? Sure was, and did he pick it up? Oh hell no! Is that his underwear laying on the floor 12 inches from the hamper? Sure is. It’s been there for two days now … I better pick it up before I get accused of not doing my job. Or maybe I should just bitch about it and see if he slips another pill into my box.
There are a lot of things wrong here, some I can see, and some are secrets that I’m just figuring out, but no matter how I look at it, I am merely here to be dominated by his existence. To ask for anything requires me to lower myself to what I see as a state of begging. Such as; winter in Michigan is a real bitch without boots, gloves, etc., but I’ll be damned if I am going to beg for things that are clearly needed.