Well, Feb. has passed...
Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. My site stats show me that there are a lot of you that die- hardedly check to see if I have written. Thanks.
NASCAR season has started, spring is here...and only a few more weeks of Hep C treatment HELL left.
Dale's viral count is still zero and as of yesterday, his doc's say his last week of treatment will be the week of 3/24/06. The trip to Fontana was way too much for him and Satan has returned in Full Force Plus and is showing no signs of leaving. I am turning into Satan's bride Satania as a result. UGH. UGLY. Not me. I have just freaking had it.
His Doc told me yesterday privately to try to keep standing my ground, and be strong... "It's the med's, honey" she said. "Remember it's not him it's the meds."
I am trying.
I have never been in a truly abusive relationship. I have dated men who showed signs of being abusive, but they didn't get to stay around to long. I did not grow up in an abusive household. Our family had it's issues...yes. All families do. We would fight our issues out, once and for all. Loud? Yes. Ongoing? No. Fight it out. Get it over with. Get on with it.
Vulnerable issues were NEVER allowed to be weapons. We were taught to be repectful of deep feelings and tender hearts. We did not call each other names and "Shut up" was against the freaking law to say. We could yell and get as mad as we wanted. We had to fight fair. My Dad taught us how to deal with issues immediately (my mom was a stuffer... put your blinder's on and pretend it's not there, so peace reigns in the house kinda gal). My dad taught us to compremise or agree to disagree. If you agreed to disagree, that was the end of it. My dad taught us that resentment and anger would eat you up like poison. He taught us to interact and work things out because we were a family, and families loved each other. Love of each other was always to be the first and most important goal. He was a freaking Saint. A drunken saint....but a Saint. Saint Sidney. I wish he was hear now...
But he's not...he is with my Mom again. I can here her say: Just forget about it and stop yelling. I can hear him say: Work it out. Talk it out. Yell it out. Just be respectful or agree to disagree. You love each other and that is what matters... Just get it over with before you go to bed. Stay up all night if you have to. Don't ever go to bed upset.
We have been fighting since Tuesday. Normally I ignore him unless he becomes personally insulting, emotionally abusive or is riding my ass about anything and everything. Therefore I have been on point and defensive, shields and boundaries drawn and defended. I feel like I am at war. Protecting myself. I crossed my own personal line and have went into my own screaming rages this week. Not ok. The Dance of Anger took a bad turn. I feel like crap. He feels like crap.
I am emotionally and physically drained. I am way behind on everything, but...that is the way it is for now. If I keep my dishes done and my house picked up, right now that is good enough for me.
So much for my ranting...on to the day. This too shall pass...