I'm starting to get my first lucid thoughts in a week, and I'm angry at my H. I've been having problems with my sinuses forever and this past week, I had surgery to correct it. I knew in my heart that my husband could not handle me being laid up for any longer than a day, but he went on about how he needed to be the one to take care of me and I convinced myself that I really wouldn't be out of commission more than a couple of days. of course he's convinced that everyone thinks he won't take care of me. He was ticked that my father was thinking about coming to see me... surely that couldn't be because my father loves me... it had to be because my father didn't trust him. When my father decided not to come was when my husband decided to unload that it was just typical of my father not to care about me. Gee... what a rosy picture!
Then of course, there was a mixup in the waiting room, which had me waiting a whole five minutes to see my husband (at least five minutes in my drug induced stupor). I'm lying there half-conscious in recovery while my husband is interrogating the nurses about what time they called for him and who said he wasn't in the waiting room. Two days later he was still carrying on about it; and I've never once said more on the subject than "I wasn't worried. I knew you would be there." That being the case, I don't know why he needs to prove that he was there.
After two days of me wandering around the house half-conscious he reached the end of his caretaking patience; and started yelling at me about how I put the trash in the garbage bag and how the counters are covered with stuff. (There were three glasses and six spoons in the sink.) From there he went on about the lights I leave on, and started a laundry list of other things he's yet to tell me about. He's seathing with resentment, and I couldn't even remember from moment to moment why I got off of the couch. He got mad when I argued with him about the trash, so I told him he might get better satisfaction out of kicking one of the dogs. He got mad when our first attempt at me tracking my own pills, didn't go so well. (I forgot thirty minuts later if I had taken them or not.) He's so full of baloney too. I've been doing the dishes, washing laundry, feeding the dogs breakfast, and even managing to pick up my shoes in between naps, but god forbid I leave the kitchen light on.
So this morning I woke up with the first clear thoughts in days and the first thing that comes to my mind is that I am tired of tripping over the trash bags he leaves in the dining room. Here's the cycle: 1) I overfill the trash can in the kitchen. If left to my own devices, I will take the garbage out about twice a week, and pick up anything that spills out of the trash can when I take care of the garbage. 2) H has a much lower tolerance for the trash can being filled, so he takes the bag out of the trash. 3) The trash bags are actually bigger than the trash can, so he sets the bags in the dining room to use until it is actually full. 4) In the dining room it is both out of the way of being useful and in the way of where I walk when I leave the kitchen. 5) Instead of letting this annoy me. I ignore it, which means that I forget the thing is there resulting in my using the empty trash can that is under the sink and tripping over the filthy bag that is in the middle of the dining room door. 6) He complains about my using the empty trash under the sink and dislodging trash from the bag that I trip over. (It's so obvious to see how this is all my fault.) 7) If I try to take it out, he raises hell about how he was going to do it when it was full. Eventually he takes out the trash, when it is full to his specifications. 8) I ignore him even more.
Now, I'm really, really mad that I've been yelled at for four days over picky things when I've been wandering around like a zombie. I really shouldn't have to deal with that frustration. I'm really ticked off that I tripped over TWO trash bags in my dining room this morning as I made my way to sleep on the sofa where I could elevate my head. Hopefully, just writing this down will help me keep my cool. I did take some action on the issue, and there will probably be hell to pay when H realizes that I took out his precious trash bags. One of them was not full.
I am probably one of the least patient nurturers on the planet myself. After a few days of that kind of responsibility I start getting pretty edgy, and if things don't go well, I can even hit resentment mode. I think that's a horrible weakness on my part, and I don't like seeing it in my H either. In fact, it reinforces that I can't count on him, which is something I think he really fears about himself. Sometimes I think that he makes his own mythology. Here is this capable, intelligent man who has been job hunting for five years. He says he's a loser, and I think he just doesn't want a job. More than anything I think he doesn't want me to depend on him.
Well looks like time to go wake him up. Ciao, tutti! -- Sheila
