Half way through the day....

Half way through the day, and thats about how I am dealing with life right now.
One day, one hour at a time.

She took a bunch of Zanax on Sunday night, and left enough clues that even an idiot like me could figure it out. I had her to the hospital about half an hour later. No huge physical risk since I was there, but the psycho issue just exploded. Now she is admitted for evaluation.

The thing is... during that whole deal..... I was numb. Not angry, not worried, not anything... Just numb. I dealt with it, did my job, took care of her as required... but no feelings at all. Only a nagging sensation that I should be feeling more emotional, but also the realization that I am burnt out on that score.

I don't have it in me any more to give in to that mega threat..... "I can't live without you, so give me what I want, or else. Oh, and I love you."

Her doctor used the word 'manipulation', which hadn't occured to me till he said it. Seems like a perfect word now. But.... emotional manipulation doesn't work on someone who's gone numb. That's something I also realize now.

In a half hour or so, in between my high school class and my evening class, I'll give her therapist a call. She wants to get background on what's been happening. I'll give it all to her... every rotten detail if she wants. I'll start with now.... the last few months.... and my renewed interest in life. How I realized I was alive, and started meeting actual humans, and gained an interest in living...

How... I had pretty much accepted that 'This was how life is going to be', thats it.... and why bother if that's all the joy there would ever be? That was the thought that went through my head, even when I did something simple like eat a candy bar. "Yes, I know this is probably bad for me, but so what? Why should I live to get old if this is it?"

Then I'll tell how I started writing a bit, started meeting people on-line, made some friends, met someone more than special, and realized I actually wanted to live. That was what tipped her over the edge this time.... that I was developing a life and am on my way out the door. The gravy train is leaving the station.

I'll explain about her depression... which started at the death of our son over twenty years ago, and developed into major depression three years ago. How she's gone through a dozen doctors and every anti-depression med known, till now she's on a daily cocktail of drugs. How... every doctor seems to give up after realizing that she doesn't want to get better.

She is following her family background, and wallowing in every bit of pain she can gather to herself. (Her traditional family phone greeting is "Whats wrong?" followed by mutual attempts at oneupmanship. Her one sister actually claims to have cancer on a regular basis, just to gain status in the family.)

I'll explain how I've kept meds, guns, and everything else like that locked away from her for years... just to make sure. Why? Because she has pulled this before...
Several times. Not this bad, but almost.

The thing is.... it's always getting worse, never better. Sure, there are moments, days, weeks, when things seem almost normal (whatever that is), but then we are back to square one and she's hitting up the Zanax just so she can 'sleep through it all'.

I guess what I need to explain to this therapist, most of all, is that I've reached my end. Not the end of my life, where this was headed, but the end of my role as emotional crutch and slave working bread winner to a person who's only joy in life is spending money faster than I can make it while doing nothing to support the family at all. Wait.... that's not true. She makes sure we have clean clothes.
That's about it. No job, no cooking, no cleaning, not much of anything.

Oh, she devoted several days a week to looking after her mother and such, who is the queen of need. That was an hours drive each way and always seemed to involve shopping. I paid for that too..... for years.

Does it sound like I am bitter? Mean? Disloyal?
Yes, it does, because that is exactly how I feel right now.
I don't like that in myself... I really don't. But, even more, I don't want
to go any further into that pit. I've seen beyond the edge now, and I'm not falling deeper. I'm clawing my way out, and away.

I don't know exactly how this will play out. I know this... in the end, I will
be living alone here..... and sleeping peacefully for the first time in years.

To the question.... Why is all this coming out here?

The answer is not earth shaking. I need to talk, to vent, to work through my own issues. This is public, but only in a very limited way. It's mostly safe to talk here, and those invited to listen to my ranting are not fools. They are thinking human beings who can call me an idiot if they want to, without hurting my feelings. I don't like most people... but I'm comfortable talking to those who are here.

That's all... nothing more than that.

Update

A meeting is set up with the therapist, her, and I tomorrow. Purpose... to repeat what I have been trying to say for days without getting through: I am leaving. Not being the desired answer, it hasn't been heard so far. The psych ward staff person thinks it would be best to have it said again, there, to eliminate misconceptions on everyones part. So be it. I wish I could make this easier on all concerned, but it's not to be. Best done, and over with as soon as possible.

I've explored the thought.... trying to feel it out... will I regret this path one day? The answer that comes to me is this... I am now able to sleep, since I made this decision. Painful? Ungodly so.... but the right thing to do. Right is seldom the easiest thing to do.