So much for laughter club, eh?

I had a so-so day yesterday, spent mostly at the library. Crumply little grinchy-type head-achiness most of the day. Maybe it was eye-strain, that just occured to me. Or maybe it was the vitamins. Or maybe it was low blood sugar. Or maybe it's theSTRESSSSSSSSSS OF MYYYYY LIFFFFEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  But I got a lot done at the library, and then I was happy to be home,  I was feeling, ok, sorta, and I was looking forward to going to laughter club. (for reference, look up "laughter yoga" on Youtoobz) My husband came home, dragging his ass like he'd been to WAR instead of work, all "boo-hoo, my life sucks feel sorry for meeeeeee waaaaaaaaahhhh waaaaahhhhhhh!!!" You know what, Buddy! I'm trying to save my DAUGHTERS' (PLURAL!!! DAUGHTERS!!!!! TWO OF THEM AT RISK!!!!) lives right now, meanwhile fighting TWO GADDANGED LIFE-LONG ADDICTIONS OF MY OWN, WITHOUT MEDICATION, get your head out of your ass and HELP ME!!!  So I didn't say all that. Instead, I said, hey, you wanna go to laughter club with me? He's all, WHAT is THAT? Like it was a dogturd on his shoe. I said, it's just laughter and silly and goofy, and good for relieving stress. He gets in the car like I'm driving him to the firing squad. (if ONLY.)  And then he immediately launches into an attack "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO SET THOSE GIRLS STRAIGHT, YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM THE WAY IT IS, THEY ARE SHITTING ALL OVER YOU!!! THEY'RE SHITTING ALL OVER YOU!!!! THEY'RE SHITTING ALL OVER YOU!!!!"  He kept it up, I said, please, I don't want to rehash all this, I'm doing my best with them right now. I just want to have a little fun and get out of the house for a while. We can't do anything about the girls right now, let's just have some fun. (I really was being that reasonable. Yeah, me, go figger!) \ "THEY'RE SHITTING ON YOU!!! THEY'RE SHITTING ON YOU!!! THEY'RE SHITTING ALL OVER YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  (this time he added spitting (literally, SPIT GODDAMMED WAS FLYING FROM HIS MOUTH) and sputtering and a weird freaky glassy look in his eyes. )  I almost wrecked the car then, yelling at him to shut up SHUUUUUT UUUUUP!!!! He's not saying they're shitting on ME. He's saying they're shitting on HIM. And it's true. They hate him. They have no respect for him. He did that. I helped. I demeaned him in front of them. That's true. But I don't know how to repair that damage. I'm working on myself, and the way I treat other people. But he has some work to do too. He needs "anger management", and he needs to work very hard on regaining their respect. And mine.  I can't stay married to someone I don't respect. I can't stay married to an spitting idiot. He has to do his part. And he has to respect some boundaries for my recovery. When I say, "I can't talk about this right now. I need a little break...", he's got to respect that. That's SUPPORT, is what that is. He has to do what he can to support me.  That's the only way I will be able to recover AND stay in a marriage. Otherwise, I'm out. I choose ME. And my daughters.