These are the days the make me question why I'm married.
All I wanted was to state clearly why the one thing we had agreed was to NOT leave clothes on the floor of the bedroom. It was the very least we could do, we had decided, to throw the clothes into a laundry basket.
Neither of us are great at keeping up with the general clutter around the house, and for the most part, it doesn't bother us too much or cause too many problems. I mean, it builds up, we get to it eventually, things are tidy, and then the cycle starts all over again. I'm definitely not a neat freak, never have been. Oh, I clean and dust and vacuum, etc., but I've never been into tidying/organizing/keeping random things sorted.
But the one thing that was driving me crazy was having clothes laying all over the bedroom floor, so we decided that we wouldn't do that any more. We even bought another basket so that he would have his own basket for his own clothes.
However, since we agreed on this one small change, I have had to remind and ask him to not leave his clothes on the floor several times. Which, is not that big a deal and wasn't really bothering me that much.
Until today, when for the SECOND TIME IN ONE WEEK, I managed to CUT OPEN the skin ON TOP OF THE BRUISE from earlier this week. Do you know how painful it is to cut open the skin RIGHT on top of a massive bruise??!?! It fucking hurts. And WHY did this happen? Because, for the second time in one week, I was trying to navigate a narrow pathway between the BED and his fucking clothing laying on the floor trying to get to the bedroom window. Which I failed to do, and managed to cut open my skin on the exact same spot which I bruised just a few days ago.
I didn't scream, I didn't yell, I just walked downstairs to say look, could you PLEASE stop leaving your clothes on the floor. This is the second time in a week that I've injured my leg in the same spot trying to walk around your stuff. And then he says oh, you want to have a fight? Let's have this fight right now!!
What?! No, I don't want to have a "fight" right now, you idiot. I just want you to stop leaving your clothes on the floor, LIKE WE AGREED, so that I can stop injuring myself trying to walk to the window!
Now, my reaction to situations, is something I've been trying to work on for several years now. I used to get VERY easily stressed, and was really quick to get angry or upset about something. I'm actually proud of how well I've been doing with this -- my reactions to things is much improved and I'm much calmer all the way round.
My husband, on the other hand, is not. People used to accuse ME of flying off the handle and being really angry, but really, I've never met anyone so quick to anger as my husband. It's very frustrating, as I recognized that my behavior wasn't healthy, and it's really been something I've been striving to work on. I wish he'd do the same.
So, no, I didn't want to "fight" with him, and or bring up a bunch of other issues. I just wanted him to stop leaving his goddamn clothes laying on the bedroom floor.
I resent being attacked regarding other aspects of the house. Who fucking cares?!? Has he seen me complaining about anything recently? No. Have I even complained or expressed any regret about the latest embryos dying? No. Have I gotten upset about it? No. Have I had a meltdown or freaked out about the cycle, or us having zero embryos left and having to start from scratch? No. Have I whined or complained about all my babies being dead? No.
Do I get any recognition about how hard it is for me to keep going with my life? How it's difficult for me to balance teaching jewelry classes, with designing and making jewelry, with doing all the photography and maintenance for my business website with balancing my house, family, dogs, health, and other responsibilities?
I don't think anyone appreciates the fact that it's a freaking miracle that I didn't kill myself years ago, and that I'm able to function and be creative and act normal and run my business and work life. I don't get any credit for that.
Not to mention, on top of all the abuse, surgeries, pain and suffering my body has been through, I STILL have to somehow manage to function through my daily life with horrifically painful bones in my wrists and arms.
How would you like it if writing, brushing your teeth, washing your hair, getting dressed, cooking, just merely turning your hand or wrist caused you IMMENSE EXCRUCIATING PAIN?!? I still have to get up everyday, go to work, make jewelry (which is definitely hard on my wrists) and deal with all the other crap I've been through in my life, on top of regular life responsibilities with crippling pain in my wrists.
And I rarely ever complain about it.
So today, on top of my cut-on-top-of-a-bruised-leg, my right wrist is particularly painful today (I actually have it wrapped up in a tensor bandage today, although that helps very little), and my husband is acting like an asshole.
I just can't believe how I get no credit for still existing after all these years, and doing more than existing: moving forward. Working, being creative, having my own small business.
It could so easily be the other way around. I could be dead, or committed in a mental hospital somewhere.
No one appreciates the extreme effort and will that it has taken for me to proceed with my life, through everything I've been through.
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