Sunday

What can you say about the weekend?  I survived.  Not really how you want to refer to a weekend.  Saturday was mostly fine.  I went and got my hair done, no more gray for a while.  He took the youngest school clothes shopping so I had the house to myself for a while.  Saturday night he started drinking early.  He has switched to vodka now since it has a lot less carbs than beer and he thinks it's going to help him lose weight.  Of course, that also means he's way more tanked and way earlier.  Saturday he was out by 8.  Tonight he was out by 7:30.  He tells me that he is having trouble sleeping because he wakes up at 2 or three and cannot go back to sleep.  Stupid,  You are going to sleep before 8 pm.  It's almost 8 hours sleep. 

Most of the time when this happens I just lose myself in a book or game.  I am restless tonight.  I couldn't focus on games or a book.  Maybe writing some stuff down will help me.  I have a feeling that this semester is going to feel like forever.  Somewbere deep down, I know that this is not going to end well and we are going to end up separating.  I feel a little twinge of panic at the thought of having to start a new household AGAIN.  About a year after I moved back in last time I let him talk me into getting rid of the things from my apartment.  It was all cheap shit and it was taking up a lot of storage room.  I knew it was just my safety blanket, so I let the stuff go.  I know I can thrift or whateveer if I need to move again.  The sad truth is I have wasted too many good years of my life with this man.  Years I will never get back.  I am so tired of all this.  So tired of the fight.  Some days I think as long as he leaves me alone I could live with it, but on weekends like this I know that is a lie.

When he started to put dinner on the grill I could tell he was plowed.  He didn't even finish half his plate.  We usually have crap piled all over the kitchen table and we like to watch tv while we eat so we usually sit on the floor at the coffee table in the family room.  As soon as he stops eating he slowly starts to lean over, until he is laying down on the floor.  That is where he will spend the night.  I feel uncomfortable when he is like this.  I hold very still hoping he will go out quickly.  it's weird because he is usually not a mean drunk.  If anything he is overly mushy when he's sloshed.  I don't want him touching me at all when he is like that.  So, I hold my breath and say to myself like a chant..go out..go out...go out.  This is my pathetic life.  I feel like prey in the crosshairs of a predator.  Stupid.  Maybe because my real father was an angry drunk.  Mostly yelling and throwing things.  I don't think he ever actually hit my mom.  I guess if he was going to ever hit me it would have been the time I refused to leave when he threw a bowl of ice cream at my mom and it exploded all over the wall.  I yelled at him to leave my mom alone.  I have no idea how old I was then. I had to be under 12 because that is when they finally split up.  Always having to fight.  No wonder I am such an axiety freak.  Sometimes I worry that it is the meds that make me unable to cry anymore.  I feel like I should want to cry over this....this pathetic existence that I am trying to make it through for a few more months.  I just keep closing my eyes and focusing on the goal.  Keep your head down, finish the damn classes and try not to let him drain us financially. 

I have had a small crack in the windshield for a while now.  We went to wash the trucks today and when I started to rinse off the Durango, the cool water on the hot windshield expanded the crack all the way down now.  Of course, it's on the driver's side.  FML.  He says, give me a couple of weeks and we will fix it.  I just roll my eyes.  Like he ever comes through with money that he promises.  Besides, the vehicle isn't in my name anyway.  Just another promise that he didn't keep.  "Oh, sell your rodeo to my dad and I will sign the Durango over  to you."  right...

Still,  I feel bad that I am the one that broke it further.  fml.  My friend is still waiting for the ax to fall at work.  Last week they had circulated a rumor that she was getting let go on Thursday.  I think they are trying to get her to quit.  We laugh about it because there is no way she can afford to quit and still feed her babies.  She lives with a drunk like I do...only hers doesn't function as well.  I say let's Thelma and Louise this bitch. She laughs and says yeah, we will ride off in a blaze of glory, minus the suicide.  Yep, we will build a desert compound and teach the kids to defend the perimeter.  lmao.  I can almost see it in my head....8 year old Mikayla in pink camo and a belgian at her side on patrol around the property.  and 5 year old Jake with his super hero cape on. dumb humor.