"I'm about to have a nervous breakdown, my head really hurts...
...If I don't find a way out of here
I'm gonna go berserk cause
I'm crazy and I'm hurt
Head on my shoulders
It's going... Berserk!
I hear the same old talk talk talk
The same old lines
Don't do me that today
Yeah if you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way
Cause, I'm crazy and I'm hurt
Head on my shoulders
Going... Berserk!"
Yeah, yeah, yeah...it's a punk rock kinda day for this chick. Too bad Mickey is a little bitch and keeps whining when I turn it up.
Everybody's a little bitch. It is an "I hate the fucking world" kinda day and it all starts with that fucking retard I married.
"Can we sit down and talk about the business? Without fighting?". Which, translated from HubSpeak means, "Can you listen to my idea and agree with me 100% and not give any kind of your own opinion?".
Well, that went over like a fucking lead balloon. A Led Zeppelin, if you will. Because he still wants to apply for a fucking loan for the business, and I'm sorry, but I don't want to. I hate the business now. Hate it. Last week, I put $3000 into the account. That was Friday. Monday, I check the account, and there's $275 in there. Where the fuck did it go? "But I need, I need, I need...".
What he needs is a fucking clue. Still can't make the fucking truck payment that was due May 29. I have no idea what he spends money on, he just hands me receipts (never all of them, either) and I'm just supposed to guess what they're for. I've bitched about all this shit ad nauseum and nothing ever changes. I try, I try to find ways to get around his obstacles (ie; his fucking retardity), and it never works. He can't keep to a schedule, he can't finish jobs cuz "they made changes", he doesn't get down payments from everybody ("Oh, I never ask *them* for one"), and he can't fucking keep tools. They get lost or broken. He just had to drop another $275 on a fucking trimmer cuz "tools break, ya know". Yeah, they're fucking disposable. Doesn't Home Depot have some kind of refund/exchange policy? Maybe it doesn't apply to idiots.
Anyway, so I made the mistake of expressing my opinion during this little talk--
(here's an aside, a major pet peeve if mine and I might be the lone female in this because it is a feminine thing to do--"We need to talk". I fucking hate that! "I need to sit down and talk with you about somehting, just not now". WTF. Does it have to be a big production? Just say what the fuck you have to say and leave "we need to talk" out of it. That irritates me to no end and it's his favorite thing to do)
--and of course, it ended in a fight. Mostly him, cuz I gave up. I tried telling him how he has no idea how I feel about ANYTHING in the business or our marriage because he doesn't listen to me. He cuts me off when I try to speak and just assesses the situation and my feelings for himself and that's that. And of course, while I'm saying (saying, not yelling, mind you) this, he cuts me off mid-sentence.
So I said, "See? Not worth it. I'm going back to my world now and I don't want you in it". (When I'm quiet or depressed, which *surprisingly* happens a lot, he says I'm in my world. Damn right. I like it there. In Jackie's world, the sun is always shining. In Jackie's world, the tip is always included. In Jackie's world, beer is calorie-free).
I told him that I am going back to work in September. I want to know I've got a check coming in every week and health insurance. He hates when I do that, because it takes some of my dependence off of him.
He threatened to pack his bags and leave. He just doesn't get that that doesn't scare me. By all means, go! See ya!
Then he slammed the kitchen door hard enough to knock over the curtain (it's on a magnetic rod) and a mirror by the door. Then he threw his coffee all over my van. To his idiotic credit, he rinsed it off. Then he came the fuck back in and went upstairs. Check it out:Idiot attacks bookcase.
Yup, up until this AM, that was an intact bookcase. Isn't he fucking classic? Oh could there be more to this effin' bliss we call marriage? Could there be more? Oh, please, tell me there is.
And then, yesterday. He told me that he is not going to NY for the 4th of July. Now, I don't mind a vacation away from him, except, he has a deal with Chuck. Chuck, who got him out of all his troubles with the IRS for free. The trouble that followed him for five years, and even two years of his accountant working on it couldn't fix it. But Chuck came in and got it all taken care of. He was up late at night making notes, etc, he put some serious work into it. And didn't ask a penny for it, the deal is that Hub works it off in landscaping when we go up. Now he says he's not going and you have no idea how infuriating this is to me.
I hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him.
He wants me to go back after Dick for child support again. We've been through this over and over. I call child support, they get on his ass, he pays up, we drop everything, he stops paying. Over and over. So, I could do this again but all it's gonna do is put his ass in jail indefinitely. And what fucking good does that do? He's in jail and I don't see a penny.
I know I'm going to sound like a sap but I can't handle the guilt of putting him in jail just to sit. If I knew he could come up with the money and bail himself out (said bail money coming to me), then I'd do it in a heartbeat. But this is not the case with Dick. He'll just sit, no one will bail him out. And that's his own fault for being a no good prick and burning every bridge he's ever crossed and pissed off and alienated everyone in his life.
What Hub doesn't get is, what good does it do to have Dick sit in jail? It sucks and he's a bastard for not supporting his kids, but is it bad enough to warrant endless months in jail? I don't think so. Hub wants him to sit there, but it's just out of spite. Right or wrong, I cannot in good conscience just send him to jail to sit over money. At least while he's out, I stand a chance of seeing a few bucks here and there when he does manage to find work.
So, everything would be much better if we had that $105 a week. That would just fix everything.
I hate my husband. I am not in love with him. I have no respect for him. If I had an easy out, or even a mildly difficult out, I'd take it. I get far too excited when he threatens to go.
I got myself into this. Someday, I'll get myself out.
"Crazy! Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
I don't care what you fuckin' do!
I don't care what you fuckin' say!
I'm so sick of everything
I just want to... Die!!!!"