Friday
I woke up this morning. The man next to me was crying. His back hurts from climbing ladders in this 88 - 90 degree weather for the last week. He smelled of alcohol and had just taken anxiety medication. I offered to call his customer this morning to tell her he needed a break today but he insisted on doing this himself. I squashed every instinct I had to insist that I call her so she would not hear his slurred speech and confused words. But then I stopped. How would he ever learn to take responsibility for his actions if I kept being his mommy? He would call her later in the morning, (if he remembered to and if he did not fall asleep first). These thoughts going through my head as I clamped my lips firmly shut. Instead, I choose to get ready for work and get out of the house without incident. Not an easy task when he is like this. He insisted on walking me to my car despite my many urges that he, "get some rest." He can be an intimidating figure, a muscular man, 6'3", weighing over 200 lbs., and when he gets like this, there is no stopping him. He, like the 300 lb gorilla at the movies, "sits wherever he likes" so to speak. So, he dons his sandals and follows me out the door. Of course we see a couple taking a walk heading away from the still empty pool. The two of them work maintenance in my apartment complex. My husband begins to loudly ask them when they were ever going to get the pool opened, in what he believes to be a playful, bantering manner. It comes out loud and intimidating. They exchange a look and with a nervous laugh, begin to walk even faster away from us. My husband would not be deterred as he begins to walk in their general direction, continually making comments about the pool. I laugh uncomfortably, and tell them he is only teasing. His face lights up in a crooked grimace and returns to me as he awkwardly hugs me goodbye.
A few minutes into my long drive to work, my cell phone starts to chime his ring. He is defensive, trying to explain that he is tired, his back hurts and he needs rest. I have no doubt that this is all true. He has been doing back breaking work for the last several weeks. I told him his schedule was to full and that he was working too hard. He pushes, and pushes until he breaks then I am left to pick up the pieces and try to put it all back together.
I finally arrive at my job, a thankless position of keeping a non-profit organization compliant with foundation policies. The staff is fairly sick of me in my attempts to follow the policies and procedures to the letter (as I have been instructed to do by my new boss). The benefits are mediocre at best and the pay is worse. Throughout the day, I continue to get phone calls from my husband. Each one, more disjointed than the next. Finally, at the end of the day, as I attempt to arrange the volunteer schedule for the week, make sure my fundraisers have all they need for the event that evening, for the event on Saturday and for the event coming up on Monday, my cell chimes his ring once more. He is crying. From the conversation, I make out that he was riding his bike to a local public pool he had heard of from yet another maintenance man that he accosted about our pool. He said the gears seized up and his foot scraped the pavement, ripping off his toenail and loosing his sandals. His story was that he was near the public pool when this happened so, in some manner, ended up getting first aid administered by a capable young lady. He was in no condition to ride the bike home so she offered to call local law enforcement to help him home. He agreed and waited. Shortly, an ambulance drives up. According to my husband, they insisted he get in so they could check him out. They took his vitals and though his heart rate was slightly elevated and his blood pressure was off (he had just lost a lot of blood from scraping his toenail off) he was OK. The police came. A bored country cop with a chip on his shoulder meets my paranoid, anxiety riddled husband. It did not go well, yet my man managed to escape the encounter without going to jail. He began to walk home, wheeling his bike. He told me he was still bleeding and in a lot of pain, when he came upon a woman in her yard. She allowed him to keep his bike at her house but could not give him a ride home due to not having a car. Finally, he makes it home and into the shower. I ask him if he needs stitches and inform him that there is a clinic right down the road from our complex. He says he doesn't and requests that I hurry home. I finally make it to our little slice of heaven (the complex is undergoing some extensive ground renovation and there are piles of earth, rocks, and construction vehicles all around) As I drive to our cul-de-sac, I notice sandals, one broken, in the middle of the drive, very near our apartment. Apparently, he had fallen here, lost his sandals but continued his journey in quest of a public pool. I feel the concern turn to anger, like sour milk in my stomach then dread as to what condition I will find him in when I reach my door. Thankfully, he is asleep so I give him a look over. Blood in spots on our white comforter with a beach towel curled around one leg, he is asleep on a blow up mattress in the living room. (No air conditioning in the bedroom so we do this on really warm nights) Sadness threatens to overwhelm me but I cannot cry. I am not allowed to cry. If he wakes up and sees tears he will become even more difficult to handle. I roughly wipe my face with the back of my hand, a little too roughly. I do this in hopes that the self inflicted pain will prepare me for what is to come. The night passes in various stages of wake and sleep. He wakes and I clean his toe. He sleeps.
I Woke Up This Morning
Waking me up with a conversation he had with his grandfather a few days ago. I was in the middle of a dream involving a pool and blood. I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. Morning comes and goes. I give him a bath so the shower does not pound on his open wound and cause discomfort. He awkwardly gets out of the tub, head sagging and lolling side to side as I attempt to dry him off. I get angry at this apparent drunken appearance. He was not drinking this morning but the smell and the characteristics stay on him like stench on a wet dog. He is angry with me for being unkind. He yells and slams his fist into the wall, fortunately, the wall is left intact. I nervously try to calm him down, worried, scared that he may become more and more confused. When the confusion strikes, he hears things that no one has said and argues with it. Sometimes this causes him to lash out at me so I stay an arms distance. I get him back on the mattress with promises of breakfast to come when I am saved by the ringing of my cell. My friend, my only friend really, is calling me from her sunshine. She had a fun, sake filled evening with friends and was driving home. I envied her as she related the events of the evening. The luxury of being invited to go out then crashing at someones house, feeling safe and happy. This is not part of my life.
I squeeze my eyes together as I type, listening to the snores of my husband in the other room, not knowing what he will be like when (if) he wakes up today. Yet another weekend of being alone while he sleeps. I have decided to keep track so he can see how often he does this. This is the second weekend in a row and counting.
I don't want to wake up tomorrow. It is easier not to wake up then being alone, sad.......
added at 5:30P.M.
Today, it feels like it will never get better. It feels like the pain in my heart will set me on fire from the inside out. That would be good, I think. To purge. I wanted to jump in the river today but the cliff wasn't high enough. It hurts so. I am screaming but no one hears my silent scream. no one
.... I can hear him snoring. ..
I woke up this morning. The man next to me was crying. His back hurts from climbing ladders in this 88 - 90 degree weather for the last week. He smelled of alcohol and had just taken anxiety medication. I offered to call his customer this morning to tell her he needed a break today but he insisted on doing this himself. I squashed every instinct I had to insist that I call her so she would not hear his slurred speech and confused words. But then I stopped. How would he ever learn to take responsibility for his actions if I kept being his mommy? He would call her later in the morning, (if he remembered to and if he did not fall asleep first). These thoughts going through my head as I clamped my lips firmly shut. Instead, I choose to get ready for work and get out of the house without incident. Not an easy task when he is like this. He insisted on walking me to my car despite my many urges that he, "get some rest." He can be an intimidating figure, a muscular man, 6'3", weighing over 200 lbs., and when he gets like this, there is no stopping him. He, like the 300 lb gorilla at the movies, "sits wherever he likes" so to speak. So, he dons his sandals and follows me out the door. Of course we see a couple taking a walk heading away from the still empty pool. The two of them work maintenance in my apartment complex. My husband begins to loudly ask them when they were ever going to get the pool opened, in what he believes to be a playful, bantering manner. It comes out loud and intimidating. They exchange a look and with a nervous laugh, begin to walk even faster away from us. My husband would not be deterred as he begins to walk in their general direction, continually making comments about the pool. I laugh uncomfortably, and tell them he is only teasing. His face lights up in a crooked grimace and returns to me as he awkwardly hugs me goodbye.
A few minutes into my long drive to work, my cell phone starts to chime his ring. He is defensive, trying to explain that he is tired, his back hurts and he needs rest. I have no doubt that this is all true. He has been doing back breaking work for the last several weeks. I told him his schedule was to full and that he was working too hard. He pushes, and pushes until he breaks then I am left to pick up the pieces and try to put it all back together.
I finally arrive at my job, a thankless position of keeping a non-profit organization compliant with foundation policies. The staff is fairly sick of me in my attempts to follow the policies and procedures to the letter (as I have been instructed to do by my new boss). The benefits are mediocre at best and the pay is worse. Throughout the day, I continue to get phone calls from my husband. Each one, more disjointed than the next. Finally, at the end of the day, as I attempt to arrange the volunteer schedule for the week, make sure my fundraisers have all they need for the event that evening, for the event on Saturday and for the event coming up on Monday, my cell chimes his ring once more. He is crying. From the conversation, I make out that he was riding his bike to a local public pool he had heard of from yet another maintenance man that he accosted about our pool. He said the gears seized up and his foot scraped the pavement, ripping off his toenail and loosing his sandals. His story was that he was near the public pool when this happened so, in some manner, ended up getting first aid administered by a capable young lady. He was in no condition to ride the bike home so she offered to call local law enforcement to help him home. He agreed and waited. Shortly, an ambulance drives up. According to my husband, they insisted he get in so they could check him out. They took his vitals and though his heart rate was slightly elevated and his blood pressure was off (he had just lost a lot of blood from scraping his toenail off) he was OK. The police came. A bored country cop with a chip on his shoulder meets my paranoid, anxiety riddled husband. It did not go well, yet my man managed to escape the encounter without going to jail. He began to walk home, wheeling his bike. He told me he was still bleeding and in a lot of pain, when he came upon a woman in her yard. She allowed him to keep his bike at her house but could not give him a ride home due to not having a car. Finally, he makes it home and into the shower. I ask him if he needs stitches and inform him that there is a clinic right down the road from our complex. He says he doesn't and requests that I hurry home. I finally make it to our little slice of heaven (the complex is undergoing some extensive ground renovation and there are piles of earth, rocks, and construction vehicles all around) As I drive to our cul-de-sac, I notice sandals, one broken, in the middle of the drive, very near our apartment. Apparently, he had fallen here, lost his sandals but continued his journey in quest of a public pool. I feel the concern turn to anger, like sour milk in my stomach then dread as to what condition I will find him in when I reach my door. Thankfully, he is asleep so I give him a look over. Blood in spots on our white comforter with a beach towel curled around one leg, he is asleep on a blow up mattress in the living room. (No air conditioning in the bedroom so we do this on really warm nights) Sadness threatens to overwhelm me but I cannot cry. I am not allowed to cry. If he wakes up and sees tears he will become even more difficult to handle. I roughly wipe my face with the back of my hand, a little too roughly. I do this in hopes that the self inflicted pain will prepare me for what is to come. The night passes in various stages of wake and sleep. He wakes and I clean his toe. He sleeps.
I Woke Up This Morning
Waking me up with a conversation he had with his grandfather a few days ago. I was in the middle of a dream involving a pool and blood. I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. Morning comes and goes. I give him a bath so the shower does not pound on his open wound and cause discomfort. He awkwardly gets out of the tub, head sagging and lolling side to side as I attempt to dry him off. I get angry at this apparent drunken appearance. He was not drinking this morning but the smell and the characteristics stay on him like stench on a wet dog. He is angry with me for being unkind. He yells and slams his fist into the wall, fortunately, the wall is left intact. I nervously try to calm him down, worried, scared that he may become more and more confused. When the confusion strikes, he hears things that no one has said and argues with it. Sometimes this causes him to lash out at me so I stay an arms distance. I get him back on the mattress with promises of breakfast to come when I am saved by the ringing of my cell. My friend, my only friend really, is calling me from her sunshine. She had a fun, sake filled evening with friends and was driving home. I envied her as she related the events of the evening. The luxury of being invited to go out then crashing at someones house, feeling safe and happy. This is not part of my life.
I squeeze my eyes together as I type, listening to the snores of my husband in the other room, not knowing what he will be like when (if) he wakes up today. Yet another weekend of being alone while he sleeps. I have decided to keep track so he can see how often he does this. This is the second weekend in a row and counting.
I don't want to wake up tomorrow. It is easier not to wake up then being alone, sad.......
added at 5:30P.M.
Today, it feels like it will never get better. It feels like the pain in my heart will set me on fire from the inside out. That would be good, I think. To purge. I wanted to jump in the river today but the cliff wasn't high enough. It hurts so. I am screaming but no one hears my silent scream. no one
.... I can hear him snoring. ..
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