What comes next? After a long “fight”. He calls it venting. I call it a personal attack towards my abilities or inabilities. My head is pounding so I should probably get Tylenol. My nose is still stuffy and I’m out of Kleenex so maybe that extra roll of toilet paper in the adjoined bathroom seems like a good idea.
He shared how on edge he is, in constant fear that I will snap, that my next irrational mood will say “hello!” – like they tend to do frequently and unexpectedly. He is so consumed by keeping me of healthy and sound mind that he doesn’t live his life. He comes home from work to go to sleep, eats, showers, then does his own thing while I go to bed alone and he will end up sleeping on the couch. When we ARE conscious and in one another presence, we spend the time consoling me and having me vent about my day. And there it is. That has been my relationship.
I’m on the edge. And he is at the bottom.
I knew I loved him the day I met him, literally. Call it premonition. But when is enough, enough? When I was wondering if I should get divorced, I just KNEW one day. And it terrifies me that we are going in that direction. Where one day, I will be perfectly okay with saying, enough.