I was nuking up my wonton soup from yesterday and noticed that, music still blaring, H had been in the bathroom for a long time. I pushed open the door to find him sprawled on the floor. I knelt down and shook him gently, asking if he was okay. He was non-responsive at first, but when I asked, loudly, twice if I needed to call 911, he roused slightly and murmured “no”. I asked him if he’d taken the half xanax (I brought it to him during his panic attack, he's taken a half tab a few times before)and he said yes.
I suppose that on an empty stomach with who knows how many ounces of rum afterwards, plus three cigarettes... opened package, some missing on the kitchen table right now. Perhaps the “smoke in his hair” from the other morning may well have been a quick smoke while he was out chipping the ice. I asked at the time and if so, he lied about that too.
(Neither of us have ever smoked cigarettes, but since “the bomb” have taken halls and bummed smokes off of pals when partying )
Who is this man I am married to? Part of me feels empathy for him right now, reminiscent of my night crawling the floor, puking my guts out, wrenching sobs…November 27th 2k2. He scraped me off the floor that night, but that was it. Left in me in my lonely bed sobbing my heart out. I woke to a heart-pounding hallucination of the two of them on the phone. Part of me is just numb.
Back to the bathroom: I got him sitting up. He said he was going to be sick, get out of here. So I did. I waited until he was back on the couch before eating my soup. Is that cold-hearted? I needed to eat.
So H fails to live up to his promise of forthrightness and honesty yet again. And again out of fear. He was so messed up, earlier: sobbing, choking, gasping, turning red, teeth clenching, having spasms…it was scary.
I kept thinking that perhaps he’d made a mistake getting that note from our Dr.today. He needs more help than I realized. Top priority: get C to refer him to a private therapist.
He appears to be pathologically fear-driven, avoidant, weak, spineless, cowardly. Harsh words, I know.
Is this the kind of man I want as a life partner? Is this something that he CAN overcome? How would I know?
Is it the depression or a basic character flaw? Sure seems well ingrained.
When he was describing how he felt trudging through the snow to send OW her black-mail money (stupid, used, weak, cursing himself, swearing “never again” etc.) I asked if it was like how he felt when K (girlfriend before me) made him hide in the closet when her ex-husband came to her apartment.
He said “Yes!”. I thought: Well you certainly haven’t grown much in 13 years, have you?
I’m so weary of these surprises. Of him redirecting the issue at me. The gall of him to question me (intently) about our friends flirting or “coming on” to me, when he still had such ghosts in his closet.
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