I cannot believe my good fortune! The last time I had a Saturday night off at my part-time job was July 2007 (my 40th birthday). Since then I have worked every Saturday, and for ten months, every Sunday, also. I hadn't realized it, until I started to get really burnt out.
I made an offhand remark to my boss about how the last Saturday I had off was in 2007, and she suggested that I take a weekend off. She actually suggested this coming weekend, because there is an extra payday in October this year, so the financial hit wouldn't be quite so bad. And then she worked with the boss at the other location and found people to fill in for me.
So I have four days off in a row, where I don't have to work anywhere at all!!!! Woo hoo!!!! It has been so long!!!
And here is something else--DH wants to go to his mom's for the weekend because I won't be working and can be home to take care of animals, etc.!!!!
But wait!!! There's more!!!!
He wants to bring DD with him.
Oh what a wonderful weekend that would be!!!!
The catch is, of course, that he still won't accept any money from his mom.
So that means, I have to come up with it. So, since the price of gas has gone down so much, I probably only need to come up with $140. Might as well have to come up with a thousand. I have no idea how I will get that money. I've got $65 in my savings account, and I've got a change jar....but I don't think there's enough money there...
Maybe I can talk him into accepting money from his mom if she is offering....it would sure make things easier...but I don't dare bring it up myself, because he might decide not to go at all. I'll have to figure this out.
As hard as it is to manage everything when he's gone, it's still a lot easier than when he's here--I always know what to expect when he's gone. (unless he calls from wherever he is with a drama, that is) LOL
But even if he doesn't go, I'll still have a good weekend.
Friday, October 31, 2008
I cannot believe my good fortune! The last time I had a Saturday night off at my part-time job was July 2007 (my 40th birthday). Since then I have worked every Saturday, and for ten months, every Sunday, also. I hadn't realized it, until I started to get really burnt out.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Ok, well, there's DH, who's my soulmate, the best husband ever. Then there's "That Guy", who's the antithesis of "good husband". He's coldhearted, irrational, demanding, and inconsiderate.
But there's this other guy, too, and I need to get rid of him too! It's the guy who wallows in self-pity. "I can't find a job." "I'm worthless." "Everyone would be better off if I was dead." The guy who, when you say something that isn't absolutely 100% glowing praise, shuts down and won't talk at all. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "Did I do something wrong?" "No, that's part of the problem, you've done absolutely everything right." "Well, can we talk about it?" "I've been doing a lot of thinking." "About what?"
"I've got a lot on my mind."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Why don't you just tell me to go?"
"I'm such a burden to you."
I (Carol) just want to say to him, "Ok, so you feel like you're a burden. I assume that's because you are always asking me for money. If you don't like how it makes you feel, then make a goal and change it."
But that always makes "That Guy" mad, because I don't understand.
(In reality, I guess the "wallowing DH" is just another one of "That Guy"'s shining personality attributes. And I wish "That Guy" would take "wallowing DH" away, too.)
Sunday, October 26, 2008
When DH's mom first sold her land earlier this fall, and got her $150,000 for it, she had announced that she wanted to take us "all" (DH, me, DD and DH's two brothers) on a trip to Las Vegas. I didn't want to go, because I hate to fly, and also because I didn't want to take all that time off of work, and also, nobody would be around to take care of the animals--we usually have DH's brother housesit for us when we've gone on trips, but if he is going to Las Vegas, then we would have to board a bunch of them, resulting in lots of stress for all involved. DH didn't want to go either, because he is terrified of flying, and I think he was starting to realize how much trouble it would be to go on a trip with the entire family...
Anyhow, when she realized we really didn't want to go to Las Vegas, DH's mom decided that she was going to buy us hardwood laminate flooring for our living room, instead. She was hell bent on it, pointing out that our carpeting in the living room was at least 25 years old, and in places, it was held together by duct tape and we used rugs to cover the holes and the duct tape. So we agreed to the new flooring. DH and Jason installed it. I had shown DH a color that I was hoping to use for paint for the living room, to go with the new floor. My plan was to put a little money aside every payday until I had enough to buy the paint. The next day DH came home with two gallons of it, already mixed. "I charged it. I know I'm bad, but I wanted to surprise you." I was upset, but I couldn't do much about it, because the paint had already been mixed together, and I knew the small hardware store would lose out if I made DH bring back the already mixed paint. DH assured me that the next time his mom sent him money, he would pay for the paint. I know that didn't happen.
So....cut to today....DH and DD were scrubbing the white wainscoating in our kitchen. DH pointed out to me how much better it looked now that it had been cleaned, and I said, jokingly, but still kind of seriously, "Now don't you run out and charge paint to paint that." DD said, "Uh-oh, dad."
And really quietly, DH said, "I already did." And I was furious. I told him I'd talk to him later, because I was leaving for work.
I fumed all the way to work, about how DH is still spending money with absolutely no way to pay it back except to hit me up with the bill. And the fact that he kept on doing it, made me feel like I was being taken advantage of big time. Basically, he's forcing me to come up with money, and when he does that with little regard for my budget or feelings about something, to me, that qualifies in my mind as stealing. I was in a foul mood when I got to work.
When DH called, he told me he had given a lot of thought to the situation, and did I want to hear what he thought? I said yes. He said, "It's pretty hateful--towards me, I mean." I said, "that's what I was afraid of."
Then he said, "I have no job. I have no money. But I keep charging stuff. And I have no way of paying it back. So you end up with the bill. And that's stealing."
And I said, "That's the exact same conclusion I came to."
He said, "This paint is white. It's not mixed up yet, they can put it back on the shelf. I'm going to bring it back."
I said, "Good." "Since it's clear that you have the same thoughts as I do regarding this, I'm not going to say anything more about it right now. You know what my thoughts are."
"I was going to surprise you and paint the kitchen for you."
Me: "If you wanted to surprise me, charging stuff is not a good way to do it." "I can come up with a list about three miles long of things you can do around the house that would involve no money and would surprise me and make me very happy." (I'm thinking, like maybe fix DD's bathroom light that has been out of commission for over two years....fix the chicken house.....fold the laundry....a zillion things)
DH: "Maybe you'd better make that list, then." "I'm going to go for a walk now. I feel so small."
Me: "Are you going to hurt yourself?"
DH: "No. But I've got to go now."
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Well, this past week has been a chore, to say the least! In between the nearly constant arguments about me "treating DH like a child" regarding the Percocet, I've also had to deal with more instability.
DH called his mom to set up plans to go to her house to finish the work he didn't finish last time (because he was in the hospital) and the time before (when he just didn't get anything done). His mom told him he needed to bring the truck (over $100 gas money one way, and I don't have that). He said he didn't have any money and she told it like it is. Probably she shouldn't have, but she only spoke the truth: "You are costing me a fortune. I can't afford this. I've paid for you to come for two long weekends and so far all I've done is buy you pop and cigarettes, pay for your prescriptions (that they gave him in the hospital) and feed you. And that's not counting the gas money."
I'd like to say I'm shocked, but really, that's how I feel a lot of the time, too, I just don't say it, because I know what happens when I do: Instead of saying, "you know, I've really got to get my **** in gear, all I've been doing is sitting around.", he says, "I'm such a burden. All I do is make people broke. I'm a piece of shit. You'd all be better off without me." I know how it goes, because every time I bring up the money he "needs" for things that I don't see as "needs", he says the same thing. This time it was a little bit worse, though, because it was his mom, not me, and she had never said anything like this before. He's been having a pity party for the last three days. His mom finally said she'd wire him the money, and he refused it. So then he declared himself to be a piece of shit because his mom needs his help and he refused her money. I ask him "Do you feel like hurting yourself?" "A little."
But he won't do anything about it. I think we really need some medication tweaking.
He was doing so good there for a while, when we found Lithium, I'm really disappointed that we're back into all the drama and self-pity again.....and the Percocet, too. And this time seems so much harder for me to handle in a nice way. I'm biting my tongue more. I'm finding myself making sarcastic remarks under my breath. I'm really frustrated. Supposedly, if he goes, he has an appointment with the psychiatrist in early November. I'm crossing my fingers for that. I don't know what else to do!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Now I don't remember how much I've told you about DH and Percocet, so I'll give you a little recap--way back before the bipolar stuff really started, DH had some kind of pain, I can't remember if it was back pain or tooth pain or what, but anyhow, he was given a small prescription for Percocet. After he had been taking it for a couple of days, he told me, "Boy, I can see why people get addicted to this stuff...I can see me having a problem with this." So we talked a little more and he decided that he had better make sure that he didn't get any Percocet in the future. And that was that.
But then, when the bipolar stuff started happening, he was going to the emergency room every single weekend because of back pain. And the doctors all gave him Percocet, and DH told me that he "could handle it, don't worry."
One night, I was kind of surprised, because DH, who, while he is usually friendly and charming, is not really talkative, was talking and talking and had all these ideas, and couldn't stop telling me how much he loved me, and blah blah....he basically talked for nearly an entire night straight. Now, keeping in mind that this was at the beginning of the bipolar odyssey, when I had no idea that I wasn't dealing with a rational person, I commented on it, and DH told me that he had "probably taken more Percocet than he should have."
From then on, I was worried about him becoming addicted to Percocet. And I could usually tell, too, when he had taken "too much", because he would always be so talkative.
In hindsight, when I write about all the nonstop talking that he did, I wonder how much of that had to do with bipolar and how much of it had to do with Percocet, but at the time I didn't know that DH was mentally ill.
Anyhow, I was so very concerned, and DH promised me that he would talk to his Dr. about the Percocet and have a note put into his file that he shouldn't have any. Like a fool, I thought he would actually do this, but of course he didn't. Then one day, I was seeing more strange things, and I decided to search his truck. I found a bottle of 200 Percocet pills, they had been prescribed five days earlier, and they were all gone. I didn't know what to do. DH was basically passed out for two days straight. During that time, I did a little research and learned that the biggest worry was the damage to his liver, which might not show up for some time, but which could, considering the number(s) of pills he had consumed, likely be fatal. I was so scared.
When DH came to, I confronted him again about the Percocet and he got scared too. And he told me that he wasn't going to do that again, he didn't know about the liver problems, and then he told me that he had taken "almost that many" before and he "turned out fine". I was not convinced. But it was right about then that all the bipolar stuff started to really happen, and not too long after that, DH was hospitalized for what they thought (and treated him for) was depression. The Percocet problem kind of went by the wayside, because I figured the hospital would a) put him in withdrawal, b) possibly fix the problem(s) that caused him to self-medicate and c) pick up on the addiction and force him to deal with it. Yes, you can call me naive, I recognize that now, but I'm still learning.
Unfortunately, none of that happened, and things really spun out of control at that point, where DH was unable to work, but still able to spend, and I was faced with paying 100% of the bills on 50% of the income, and trying to care for DD and DH and my mom too.....it seems like we just kind of forgot about it....sort of...
Anyhow, every so often I would randomly search his truck, his car, his shed, etc., for Percocet and didn't find any. I started to think the problem was "pretty much fixed" and didn't pay so much attention to it any more, although I did suspect that I was probably wrong, I didn't have the time or energy to follow up on anything at all--there were just too many other things to worry about.
Although he had told me that he had requested that his doctor put a note in his file (again) about the Percocet, I strongly suspected that that was not true. But due to privacy laws, I couldn't find out for sure. And I thought about just calling his doctor and saying "I know you can't talk to me, but I need to tell you something." But I didn't have any evidence that anything was going on. So, being the trusting person that I am, I hoped for the best and didn't call anyone.
Well, I was aware that DH had gone to see his Dr. last week. He told me that one of his medications had been adjusted (not a mental health one, though, just for high blood pressure). The next day, I had to go to the pharmacy and pick up a prescription for my mom. The pharmacist knows me very well, and knows that I frequently pick up prescriptions for DH, DD and myself, in addition to my mom. "We've got a prescription for DH here, did you want that one too?" Sure. I was expecting to pick one up, as his blood pressure meds had been adjusted.
So they put the prescriptions on the counter while I paid for them. I looked at DH's, to make sure the dose was right, and it wasn't blood pressure medication.
Yup, you guessed it.
I just acted like nothing was wrong and paid for everything and then left. I dropped off the prescription at my mom's that was hers, and went to work. I didn't say anything about the Percocet to DH, I wasn't sure what I should be saying.
Then he called me. "Did you pick up a prescription of mine today?" "Yes". "Oh." "I can explain." And then he proceeded to tell me how his doctor had convinced him, against DH's better judgment, of course (sarcasm added) that he should have Percocet because nothing else was helping his back pain. I have no way of finding out what the truth is, but I'm pretty angry that he was trying to pull one over on me again. When I got home, the first thing he said to me wasn't "Hi, how was work?" It was "where are my pills?". That said a lot to me, right there.
Eventually we had a fairly big argument about it. He finally agreed, that although i am "treating him as a child", he would "allow" me to hang on to the Percocet and just give him what he was allowed to take for one day at a time. That seems to be working for now, and the bottle of pills that I have in my possession does not allow for any refills, so temporarily we are ok. I just hate being in this situation. I hate when he accuses me of "treating him like a child", and I hate having to decide how much I can believe of what he says. I hate being "controlling" when he can't do what he's supposed to. But I know I would hate myself forever if I wasn't "controlling" and because of that, DH died.
I'm pretty angry with bipolar now, and I wish I had better insight into how something like this should be handled.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
This site was mentioned on another blog that I frequent and I checked it out, there appears to be a LOT of information for people suffering from bipolar or depression, and also resources for people who care about those people.
Here's the link: Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance
I hope some of you find it useful.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Wow--here's a story for you!
I've been putting a little money aside here and there so that we could get our chimney cleaned. I had saved up $150.00 and I knew it was going to cost "$104 to $125" (according to the chimney sweep) to get it done. We had the chimney sweep coming out today. Unfortunately, the timing wasn't all that good, as my friend Anita asked me to drive her home from a medical procedure, since she was going to be sedated (she's the one who was widowed in December), which meant that I had to get up early and leave. And I couldn't get DH to wake up, so I had to reschedule the chimney sweep.
I had the $150 in cash, waiting to pay the guy. (I assumed that there would be tax or whatever, so I made sure I had a little extra.) One fifty dollar bill and five twenties. Last night, when I was still at work, I counted it to make sure I had the right amount, then I put it in my back pocket, where I keep my mom's credit card. (I don't carry a purse, as I tend to forget them and lose them, so everything important (there's not usually much) goes in my back pocket).
So this morning (after I rescheduled the chimney sweep) I got up and needed to pick up a prescription for my mom before I went to pick up Anita. I transferred everything from the pockets into my clean pair of jeans and went to the pharmacy. I picked up the prescription and dropped it off at my mom's. Then I went to Anita's (she lives 90 miles away--but close to where I work). Once I was in the city, I decided to put my $150 into the bank so that I wouldn't be tempted to spend it, and it was GONE.
I was pretty positive I had put it into my pocket. But I had been pretty groggy when I woke up, too, so I wasn't absolutely positive. I looked in all the "cubbys" in my car, I looked in my tote bag, I looked under the seat, and under the floor mat. Part of me was thinking that "maybe it fell out at the pharmacy", but I honestly do not lose things often--I can't remember the last time I lost something that was in my pocket like that--no doubt it's been years, so I discounted that.
Then I called DH, figuring that the money must've fallen out when I got dressed, or maybe in the bathroom. Nope. It was kind of embarassing, too, confessing to him that I didn't know what had happened to that money I'd been saving for months...
Once again, I thought about the pharmacy and discounted it. The odds of me losing that amount of money from my pocket were pretty slim, and the odds of anyone finding it and turning it in were even slimmer than that.
But DH just called me and told me that he called the pharmacy, just on a whim and asked if anyone had turned in some money, and lo and behold, they had!!! He was able to tell them that it was a fifty and five twenties, and they told him that an elderly man had found it and turned it in. No, they didn't know the man's name.
So I sat here at work with tears streaming down my face. What are the odds, huh? I feel pretty sheepish for being so careless when the money was so very dear to me. I'll no doubt learn from this, and I'm so grateful for a happy ending. Sometimes you need a little reminder that there are honest people in this world...
Posted by Carol at 7:26 PM
Monday, October 13, 2008
Today DH approached me and asked me "what's wrong?" And I told him that I was angry. About the snoring thing, but mostly about a few other conversations I've had with "That Guy", where he got very angry with me for "treating him like a child".
It was clear that he wasn't completely aware of what "That Guy" had said or what the context was...he seemed surprised when I told him why I said and did what I did--apparently "That Guy" had convinced him that I was just being a controlling jerk. Then he told me that he "thinks he's slipping, mental-health wise" and was thinking about checking himself into the hospital because he's been having a lot of urges to self-medicate. I again suggested that he start seeing his therapist again, and he said he would, but he's said that dozens of times now...
Anyhow, he also confessed to stealing $20 from me yesterday and I hadn't even realized it yet. I was mildly impressed that he up and confessed. His mom is sending him some money tomorrow, so I made it clear that I expect him to pay me back. And I bought a locking safe box (for important papers) at a garage sale and am going to put all of my gold dollars and any other money in there, so he will have no ability to do that any more. All I can think is that it must've been "That Guy" who did the stealing, and DH who felt bad about it...?
Anyhow, today DH seemed so confused and frustrated about what is going on, that I couldn't stay mad at him....(but I could stay mad at "That Guy")...
As an aside, and probably contributing to my stress, I have a fairly painful infection of my nail bed on my right thumb. I went to the doctor on Thursday and they told me that if it was not better by Saturday that I would need to have it lanced and it would be extremely painful. Being as how I hate pain, and being as how our clinic was only open until noon on Saturday and they have a fit when you want to come in on Saturday because it's apparently a huge inconvenience, I opted to wait until Monday and hope it went away. But it hasn't, and I am dreading the painful procedure that I am going to have to have tomorrow :-( I'm such a baby....but when the doctor tells you that it's "very painful, and the anesthesia itself is extremely painful", that's a little scary. So I guess once tomorrow's over I'll be in a better state of mind.....I hope!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
And I don't know what to do about it. I really don't even want to go home from work, but I don't really have a lot of other options. Now he's angry that I "treat him like a child". I want to say, "Well, let's see....you aren't working, you have no self-control, you have tantrums, tell me again why a person would treat you like a child?" But I know I can't.
So I'll say it here, LOL. I really didn't realize how little of the "same old crap" it would take to get me wondering if it's worth it. I thought that maybe if I had a break, you know, a couple of months where he was his "normal self" that I could be better at dealing with the crap. But the opposite seems to be true--each little thing seems to bring this huge swell of anger in me, and I end up surprised. And kind of scared, because I'm usually pretty easy going, this anger is something I'm not used to and something I'm not sure of.
Tonite I was really wishing he'd just up and leave, like so many bipolar spouses do. Then my next thought was, "No, he'd kill himself for sure, then." But right now part of me just wants this all to be over with, so I can get back to a normal life. I hope I'll feel better tomorrow.
Me: Honey, can you roll over? You're snoring really loud.
DH: Uh, ok.
DH: SNORE, SNORE
Me: Did you fall back asleep? Could you please roll over? You're snoring really really loud!
DH: SNORE, SNORE
Me: (shaking him awake) Could you please roll over? I can't sleep with you snoring like that.
DH: Yeah, just let me wake up here a second.
DH: SNORE, SNORE
Me: I can't sleep on the couch because you've got all the furniture piled up in the corner of the living room and the couch is upside down under the table.
DH: I know, I know, I'm waking up...
DH: SNORE, SNORE
Me: (shaking him awake again) C'mon, can you PLEASE roll over?
DH: (getting out of bed) I'm f***in' leaving. Leave me alone. (slams door and leaves)
I hate this. I want to divorce "That Guy".
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Hi everyone, I'm sorry again that it's been so long between posts--there's been so much going on, I haven't really had time to keep you all up to date--but I'm going to try to remedy that tonite...
As you remember, DH had spent his mom's money at the casino. After he told me, I told him I didn't have the money to help him--it was a little bit of a lie, because I had the money, but it would've meant not getting our chimney cleaned this year again (last year we couldn't afford it either)...
So he "manned up" and actually called his mom and told her what he had done. "Needless to say," she wasn't exactly thrilled. I guess she gave him an earful about how he needs to sign up for Social Security Disability and how I work all the time and all he does is lay around and spend money....and then she wired him(via Western Union) some more money so that he could go to her house this past weekend. He was sufficiently chastened to where he did not spend that money on anything other than what it was intended for. I haven't heard the "spend" in his voice since the night he went to the casino.
We got a hold of the nurse practitioner who prescribes his meds and she called the psychiatrist and they decided to raise DH's dose of Lamictal. Hopefully that is a good thing.
Anyhow....so DH was going to his mom's for the weekend. He left on Friday--I told him to call me when he got to his mom's. When it got to be after Midnight, I started to get a little worried, but not much, because I figured he had just forgotten to call. I planned on calling him before I went to bed. At 2:30am the phone rang: "I'm in the hospital. I was driving and I hit a log and the truck flew up and landed and then my back really hurt bad, so bad I drove myself to the hospital." I was worried, but they had already done a scan and determined that nothing was broken...
This is where I get so confused...there obviously was a "physical" cause for the back pain. But given his recent mental state, I still am not sure how much was "mental" pain and how much was due to hitting the log....DH was in that hospital for 2 days. I will have to pay 20% of that bill and I am dreading it. His mom was really disappointed, because there she was, out that gas money AGAIN and she still didn't get the work done that he's been promising....but I know she was worried, too. I think, that since DH has been spending this time at her place, she is starting to have a better idea that he's not the same person he used to be....
Anyhow, DH came home on Monday, to our house. We went for a drive, and here is what he told me:
"I have something I need to tell you. I'm afraid to tell you, but you're the only one I can be straight with. You know, all my life, I've been an excellent driver. I was a truck driver when you met me. I've gotten us out of some pretty scary situations driving-wise. And what I'm going to say is freaking me out. You know that log I hit? I saw it. I had enough time to get out of the way. I even had time to figure out that I could 'straddle' the log and not hit it. But I didn't do anything. I can't figure out why. I don't know if I hit the log on purpose? That's really scaring me, because that would be such a selfish thing to do. Maybe I was looking for an excuse not to do that work at my mom's? Or maybe I just wanted to see what would happen? I was going 70 miles an hour. Why didn't I swerve to avoid that log?" "I wish I could remember what was going through my mind."
This has worried me more than I let on to DH. Based on what he told me, he has no idea why he hit that log and is confident that he could have avoided the accident. I don't know what to think. And since he got home, he's been complaining of nausea and (of course) back pain and just lying around again. I can't remember how long it takes for the Lamictal to take effect, so I'm not sure if I should wait to panic or not....The truck had no damage. My pocketbook will be damaged, I'm not sure how I'll pay that bill....I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there....
Thursday, October 2, 2008
There is just no end to this bad week. Silly me for thinking that was all there was....
After DH got home last night, he called to tell me that he was home, everything was ok, and DD was in bed. He told me that he was going to have to go back up there to finish the work he had started but not finished, and that his mom had given him gas money (it costs about $130 in gas for him to get there in the truck and I don't have that kind of money). I was relieved, both because I wasn't expected to come up with the cash, and because DH was leaving again. It's kind of funny, I love him so much, but things really run so much smoother when he's not there....
Anyhow, about a half hour later, he called me again. I got a red flag alert right away--he had that sound in his voice--I've called it "triumphant"--like he's just conquered the world. I don't know how else to describe it, it's not the words he uses at all, but his voice changes....anyhow, there's only one thing that particular voice has ever signified: spending.
Hoping I was wrong, and still hoping against hope that he was still at home (but doubting it due to what I had heard in his voice), I asked him "Where are you going?" "Well, I forgot the key to our bedroom at my mom's, so I can't get into the bedroom." "So I thought I'd go to the casino and spend $20 while I wait for you to get home from work. I'm on my way right now." (remember we lock our bedroom door because DD had stolen from us years ago...). BIG RED FLAG BIG. BIG.
And I told him so. I said, "you've got that spending sound in your voice again." "I don't think it's a good idea." "You can't afford to be throwing away money at the casino." "Why don't you go home and just doze on the couch until I get home?"
He said, "It's only $20."
Me: "I'm afraid that won't be the case."
DH: "Well, I can't spend any of that other money, my mom gave me that especially for gas. There's no way I could spend her money like that."
Me: (Thinking about when his mom had given him $1200 for the bankruptcy, and he spent it all, after saying the exact same thing to me when I suggested that I hold on to it) "Are you aware that we've had this exact same conversation before? More than once?"
I didn't want to bring up the $1200 that he had spent, because I figured it would just make him mad and he would feel like I was bringing up "past sins", so I didn't.
DH: "We have?"
DH: "Well, don't worry, I know without a doubt that I am only spending $20."
When I left work at 4am, I called our house, and DH was not there. I was so angry. But then I somehow convinced myself that maybe he had won a bunch of money....and I let it go at that.
Then today, he was intermittently losing his temper with DD for no good reason...
I called him from work and his voice had that thick sound, like he was talking in slow motion. He said he was "thinking". He sounded very depressed. I asked him how much of his mom's money he had spent at the casino.
"Every penny," he said. "Every single cent."
There are so many emotions going through me right now. I'm angry as all get out. I'm so sad I want to cry. I am thinking maybe this is all hopeless, maybe I'm wasting my time after all. I feel sorry for him, because in retrospect he told me that he should have listened to me. And I'm terrified that he's losing control. I'm scared that things are going to be so much worse by November when he finally gets to see the psychiatrist. Dear Lord. I'm so scared.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
I'm feeling really overwhelmed today (and yesterday too). Over the weekend, DH went to his mom's to (purportedly) do some work and get paid for it. That left me with DD and work too. Luckily, I was able to put DD to bed at 9pm on the weekend nights, and then go to work, so there wasn't too much opportunity for her to get into trouble....but I still worry so much leaving her like that...I know she's 15, but still....
Anyhow, that was the start of it, and then I had a bad night at work--one of my coworkers left me a not-very-nice note that basically said I wasn't doing my job. Not just a "you forgot to do this" but really not nice. But the thing she was complaining about was a tiny trivial thing--I forgot to empty the wastebasket in the office and, according to her, "It was overflowing". It was true, I had forgotten about the office, because most people, myself included, don't go in there at all--it's for administration--filling out forms, reading mail, etc. When I went into the office after I got that note, there were about 5 pieces of computer paper crumpled up in the wastebasket. And it looked like a couple of pieces of paper had been thrown on the floor to get the point across that it was overflowing and all that. In the real world, if the five pieces of paper were that upsetting, most people would have just pushed them down to the bottom of the wastebasket to make more room....I had to fight with myself to keep my sarcastic replies to myself. I wrote an email that was much nicer than I thought she deserved, saying that I messed up, thanks for the heads-up, etc., basically not pointing out that she probably spent more energy and time writing that note than she would have if she had just dealt with the situation. This is the same person who, one time when I filled in for her, was being checked up on by the director, because they suspected that she was sleeping on her overnight shifts. When the director showed up at 2am and saw me, she said, "Oh you're not the one we were checking up on," and without directly saying that they were checking up on her, I told my coworker what had happened, so that if she was sleeping, she wouldn't get caught. I guess (yup, I'm pretty disgusted) I'll just keep my mouth shut next time!
On Monday, I went to my mom's and (as usual) read her the newsletter that pertains to the assisted living complex where she lives. They were planning a drive to see the fall colors and a lunch on the way. My mom went on that day trip the first year that she lived there and she still talks about it. So I reminded her that she really enjoyed that, and she should sign up. And she made an excuse like, "I want the new people to have a chance to go." And I told her that she had as much right to go as anyone else, and she started yelling at me, really! She wasn't just stern, she raised her voice as if I'd ordered her to dye her hair green and told her she had no choice. I couldn't say anything at all, she was angry and although I'm sure it wasn't really me, it was one more thing. But don't worry, even though she was mad at me, she still needed me to go to the store for her :-)
So that wasn't a good start to my weekend, and DH called and said that basically for about two days at his mom's, he hadn't gotten anything done. That didn't surprise me, because that's kind of how things go at home, too. I spent all day Monday doing stuff and still ran out of time. I did about 10 loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, went to the store for my mom, got feed, etc., then on Tuesday it was back to work at my other job. When I got there, I was the recipient of a not-so-nice email from my boss, because the week before, I had been working on a certain system, and the system went down and was still down when I left. When it came back up, my job was "stuck" in the system and it held up other peoples' work, so my boss (who is not the most tactful or considerate) had to write that email. Double work whammy. I don't think that's ever happened before.
So I started thinking about it--I know I'm getting burned out. I HATE going to work. I HATE that every single paycheck is spent before it even hits the bank. I HATE that I have no time to do the things that are important to me outside of work. So maybe I AM slipping....so I gave that some serious thought. I think some days are better than others, but I don't feel like I'm doing any worse than anyone else in general...
So I tried to figure out why I was so upset. I've been on the brink of tears all week. It's like my emotions are right there at the surface. Could it be the economy? I've purposefully tried not to say much about it here, because what I have to say won't be good. But maybe that's what's been dragging me down...I don't know.
So then DH was supposed to be home from his mom's on Tuesday before DD got home from school. At 2pm he called and told me that he was still at his mom's (4 hour drive).
So I had to go to work and leave DD by herself. She can usually do ok for one day of being awake and alone, and then on the second day she gets brave and that's when the trouble starts....and she did do ok. But then I had to worry about the dogs, too, because with 6 dogs you always have to be aware of the dynamics, as there are pack mentality issues and personality issues. DH had said he would be home by 6 or 7, so when I left for work I left two dogs tied up outside, one dog in DD's bedroom, and the three others in the house (the three that were least likely to cause a problem). When DH didn't get home by dark, DD called and told me that the outside dogs were barking, so I had to have her put them in the porch. I don't like that she had to do that, because she is not as aware of the things that can happen. (Don't get me wrong--our dogs are all quite friendly and mostly non-assertive, but the possibility always exists and we would be bad owners if I/we weren't aware of that possibility and do what we can to make sure the chances are minimal). We've coached DD ever since she came to live with us that "if dogs ever get in a fight, don't try to break it up, just get away from them and stay safe." But she's never had to do that, so I don't know if she really would. Luckily, everything worked out, but it was just another worry. DH did get home at 9:30pm. And by that time, I was frazzled.