One flew over the cuckoo's nest...

After Fourteen years, it may just be over. I have said it a million times, but I just don't know how much I am supposed to take. Sometimes I think I have more pain than joy. I think the scales have been tipping in the wrong direction for too long now. And I just need to convince my heart, because my mind is screaming at me to run. I came home from work tonight, early. (A pleasant surprise I thought.) I walked up the driveway, and was met outside by my father who informed me that my hubby was drunk, again. Really and truly drunk, not nicely drunk at all. I figured out many moons ago that I was married to an alcoholic, and I thought I had come to terms with that, but tonight's performance was just one too many I think. I tried talking to him, that was my first mistake. Instantly, I was enemy number one, and anything that came out of my mouth was evil. He started yelling and cussing at me, that I can handle because I know how to give as well as receive. But, then he started throwing things, I don't know why. I really didn't say much this time, just told him to sleep it off, and apparently that is all it took. Oh, he never hits me, he threatens to, but he doesn't do it. I sent the kids to Toni's, and my father went to his buddy's house. So now, we were alone. Usually that helps to calm the situation. Not tonight. When he realised that his acting like a two year old and throwing things was not going to drag me into his drama, he stopped. Yeah for me, right? Wrong. I refused to play the game, so he upped the stakes. He started cutting. (Now for anyone who does not know what cutting is, it is where a person cuts them self with lots of shallow little cuts. It is a plea for attention. No matter what any overpriced doctor says, that is it at it's core. It is like a three year old who's mom is not paying attention, who then bangs his head on the wall. He is not really hurting himself, he just wants you to think so.) Okay, so now he is cutting. But I will not beg and plead with him to stop. I tried a few times, but that is just playing into his game, so I left the room. Since he didn't have an audience to watch him perform, he eventually followed me. He found me sitting in front of the computer listening to music, and talking to Bill. Of course that pissed him off even more. ( How dare I not watch him do what he is doing, after all, he is doing it for my benefit in the first place. UGH. The mind of a drunk never ceases to amaze me.) So since I still refused to play along, he wiped blood on my face. What the fuck? I know why he did it. In his sick mind, he wants me to feel responsible for his pain. (I may not have a PhD, but I am smart enough to understand the workings of the mind of the man I have been married to for all these years.) So, now he wants to make me an accomplice to his cutting, since I refuse to be an audience. I calmly got up, and washed my face. I sat back down, and played more music. He came and went a few times. Each time there was more blood. A few new cuts. He even added cutting his face since I was not freaking out the way he wanted me to. I ignored him. I sat using the computer and talking to my friends. He finally stopped. He realised I just wouldn't play, no matter what the stakes. He washed off the blood. He came out and handed me the hobby knife. He crawled into bed. He passed out. I wonder how long it will take him to realise, that this time, I didn't cry. (Okay, I cried while talking to Toni, but it was frustration more than anything.) I will probably just let it drop. We will go on like it didn't happen. But I swear, right now, if I had the cash laying around available to me right this minute...I would pack a bag for me, one for each of the kids, and drive until I got as far as a tank of gas would take me. Where ever we ran out of gas is where we would stay. I would start over, without him. And if I ever do it, I will never, NEVER, come back. That's all..Goodnight.