Biding my time...

Every day of our marriage, when my husband was working and I stayed at home, I met him at the door with a smile on my face and a hope in my heart that he would be in a good mood and stay that way through the night. Most of the time, he was pretty Jekyll/Hyde, and every night started out pleasant enough, but quickly deteriorated. I eventually realized that I couldn't expect more. So I didn't. And I dealt with it.

Now that we're stateside again, we're both working. As a sourcing agent for some large European companies, he works overnight to coincide with the European work day. That means he is already home when I get home from work and, for reasons unknown to me, still wide awake. Only twice, however, has he met me at the door with any kind of greeting. Or even greeted me from wherever in the apartment he's roosted. So, when I get home today, he is sitting at the computer in the living room, his back to the door I've just walked through, and he says not a word to me until I greet him as cheerfully as i can manage. "Hi! I'm home!" I think I sound pretty convincing. "Unh," he says in return. All right, fine. Can't expect anything more. And I don't. So I move on.

I go right to the bathroom, then change my clothes and head immediately for the kitchen to get dinner ready. Beef stroganoff from the slow cooker. I make the salad, cut the bread, set the table and call everyone to dinner. As usual, he waits until that moment to get ready for dinner. It takes several minutes for him to get to the table, and we have to wait. Can't expect more from him. And I don't. So I grumble a little because it still irritates me after all these years, and then we move on.

My husband begins to fill his belly and starts talking. Just a little verbal jab toward me at first. One easily ignored. But that isn't enough. We bicker. That's pretty status quo. I can't expect more. And I don't. So I deal with that, too.

But he keeps on, digs a little deeper and my tolerance is broken and I give him what he wants. I call him an asshole. He kicks me in the butt. I kick him back. He kicks harder. I throw the bread at him. He slaps at my face. We have a little face-off (haven't had one of those in a while), and I flinch when he raises his hand as if to hit me. I'm more angry than I am afraid and I call him a baby and that he needs a mother, and that I won't be one for him anymore. He says I'm dumber and weaker than he is and a product of my culture, so therefore beneath him. I said, "If that's so, what're you doing kicking me in the ass?" I say he may be smarter than me, but he is uneducated, and it shows in the garbage that comes out of his mouth...

See what I'm reduced to? It used to be much much worse between us, but this still sucks. This isn't me. This isn't me, at all. I don't like being like this. I don't like being around people who bring out this side of me. And I don't like how it influences my relationships with other people.

But just you wait. I'm only biding my time...

Read here nothing worth writing about...

How do I get back into the habit of writing?
What do I do with all those writing lists I've re-enlisted for and just don't have the time to read? What about that writing-prompt list?
Why aren't I writing anymore?

Well, the answer to that, I suppose, isn't hard to guess.

But even if I write drivel about not writing, it seems that's enough for now.

Just let the words flow, and maybe something worthwhile will come forth...