Another Link In the Chain
Wow. Last night was not good.
Today hasn't been much better so far.
Ben and I got into an argument this morning that stems from the fact I'm miserable and by God, I want him to be miserable, too, so that I won't feel bad for being miserable--like his misery will justify my misery, if that makes sense. If he's miserable, too, then I feel like a have good reason to be miserable, and I'm not just miserable because I'm a whack job. But in this argument, he assured me that yes, I am a whack job, and not only that, I'm a mean whack job who makes him feel inadequate and treats him like a dumb kid who still sponges off his parents.
He has a point. Sometimes I just really, really want to see SOME reaction from him. He's mellow and nonchalant to the point of catatonia sometimes. Where I'm ranting and raving and gesticulating wildly, he's sitting there with that damned contemplative look on his face, nodding his head, saying, "yes, I guess so."
People who don't have very strong opinions--and very strong reactions to those opinions--drive me nuts, because they make me feel like I'm completely insane for having strong opinions and being passionate about them. Like they're all saying to each other, "dude, check out who didn't take her Valium today."
This was not helped by the HUGE fit Bob decided to pitch in the middle of Target. He was being mouthy and nasty to me and wouldn't stay with me, so I told him I was putting the clothes I'd grabbed for him off the clearance rack (2 t-shirts and a pair of pants) back. That really pissed him off. So I stuck the clothes on a shelf and walked off. So he threw himself to the floor and started screaming. So I grabbed his arm and dragged him through the store. Then he went limp. So I put down the 3 or 4 items I'd picked up (I didn't need them anyway) and threw him over my shoulder and dragged him to the car. Where he took off his seatbelt and kicked me in the back of the head. So I got out and re-buckled his seatbelt, and he started swinging at my face. When he knocked my sunglasses off, I swung back. It ended up being a very light cuff on the shoulder (which was well-protected by his enormous puffy coat), but I still felt horrible for it. It did, however, shock him into stopping his own assault on my face.
My parents should be here in about half an hour. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really looking forward to their arrival...
***
Oh, and Gretchen, I've figured out that I'm a compulsive overeater and have decided yes, I can modify the sparkpeople menus to suit my needs. So I'm going to try eating by order of pre-determined menu and see if that helps me to stop bingeing. No more multiple sandwich nights allowed.
Today hasn't been much better so far.
Ben and I got into an argument this morning that stems from the fact I'm miserable and by God, I want him to be miserable, too, so that I won't feel bad for being miserable--like his misery will justify my misery, if that makes sense. If he's miserable, too, then I feel like a have good reason to be miserable, and I'm not just miserable because I'm a whack job. But in this argument, he assured me that yes, I am a whack job, and not only that, I'm a mean whack job who makes him feel inadequate and treats him like a dumb kid who still sponges off his parents.
He has a point. Sometimes I just really, really want to see SOME reaction from him. He's mellow and nonchalant to the point of catatonia sometimes. Where I'm ranting and raving and gesticulating wildly, he's sitting there with that damned contemplative look on his face, nodding his head, saying, "yes, I guess so."
People who don't have very strong opinions--and very strong reactions to those opinions--drive me nuts, because they make me feel like I'm completely insane for having strong opinions and being passionate about them. Like they're all saying to each other, "dude, check out who didn't take her Valium today."
This was not helped by the HUGE fit Bob decided to pitch in the middle of Target. He was being mouthy and nasty to me and wouldn't stay with me, so I told him I was putting the clothes I'd grabbed for him off the clearance rack (2 t-shirts and a pair of pants) back. That really pissed him off. So I stuck the clothes on a shelf and walked off. So he threw himself to the floor and started screaming. So I grabbed his arm and dragged him through the store. Then he went limp. So I put down the 3 or 4 items I'd picked up (I didn't need them anyway) and threw him over my shoulder and dragged him to the car. Where he took off his seatbelt and kicked me in the back of the head. So I got out and re-buckled his seatbelt, and he started swinging at my face. When he knocked my sunglasses off, I swung back. It ended up being a very light cuff on the shoulder (which was well-protected by his enormous puffy coat), but I still felt horrible for it. It did, however, shock him into stopping his own assault on my face.
My parents should be here in about half an hour. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really looking forward to their arrival...
***
Oh, and Gretchen, I've figured out that I'm a compulsive overeater and have decided yes, I can modify the sparkpeople menus to suit my needs. So I'm going to try eating by order of pre-determined menu and see if that helps me to stop bingeing. No more multiple sandwich nights allowed.
posted by Mitzi Green at 2:28 PM
2 Comments:
I'm trying my best to stop overeating. Right now, I'm taking it one bite at a time.
Ok, are we married to the same man?
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