Of course, the minute I get depressing news about my health, R wigs out and starts making me regret ever having laid eyes on him.
R is very much like the Grand Old Duke of York, in that when he's up he's up, and when he's down oh-crap-watch-out-everyone. He has the emotional control of an 18-month-old. When I got home from work last night, he did not so much as look up when I walked in the door, so I already guessed that he was pissed, but of course, with him, you never know why.
I went about changing my clothes and playing with the Moosh for a few minutes, then he called me into the living room to tell me that:
- I am the worst housekeeper ever and that the house is full of bugs.
- To never cook or provide food for him ever, ever, ever because he is tired of chicken.
- My sister is evil incarnate because she turned the thermostat down to 75 degrees.
I countered with the very balanced reply of , "Oh, nice to see you, too, and by the way, FUCK OFF." We tiffed for a few minutes, until I finally told him that if these issues bothered him that much, then I thought we were probably better off living apart. And for the very first time, he said, "Maybe you're right." Well it's about damn time.
You know, looking at the list above, it doesn't seem that bad. It's the way he flips out over this stuff - the agressive stance, mean squinty eyes, wild gesticulating, and the hurling of epithets that seals the deal. It really is a lot of energy wasted over bugs and chicken, I must say. I have implored him, on more occasions then I can count, to pick his battles and let the small stuff go, but he either can't or doesn't want to, but honestly it makes me miserable and it makes him look like a fool, and no, I don't want to raise my child in this type of environment.
I am loathe to just leave, even though I know you are all screaming at me to LEAVE HIM DAMMIT!!! I want there to be some sort of relationship there for us after the divorce. If I leave without getting his consent (however reluctant) I will be an enemy forever more, and I would really like to avoid that if at all possible. It may not be possible, since we cannot continue this farce for much longer, but I would really like to avoid the blind rage point.
Giving up the house will be hard for me. I actually like where we live now, but my family is up north about 30 minutes away, and that already interferes with their ability to help me out with babysitting and what not. When R and I break up I will have to move closer to them so that they can provide the support that I have been so sorely lacking for the last 20 months. I would love to keep the house (theoretically), but I can't afford it. I really need to reduce my living expenses, and that's not going to happen if I stay in the house we're living in now.
The Moosh is a problem. In my mind R barely sees him anyway (only for about 10 hours a week, and I'm being generous), so I don't think the divorce will be that different. In the past, R has insisted that he wants to have full custody of the Moosh, and the only way he would agree to divorce is if I agreed to give him full custody, and that if I left and took the Moosh, he would fight me until we were both broke for custody. I have no interest in putting my child through something like that, and I also can't agree to give custody to a person who works 14 hour days, 7 days a week. This is what's been keeping us together for the last few months, this major disagreement on the custody issue.
Yesterday was the first time I had heard R admit that breaking up might be the right thing to do. I would prefer a separation until the business is sold, but I think it might be too complicated legally - technically I own half the business and I invested cash in the business, we both own the house but I've paid for the majority of it, and I have no intention of giving him access to the proceeds from the sale of it.
I can't believe things have gotten this bad. We only see each other for about 20-30 minutes a day, and R seems to do his best to make that half hour the worst half hour of my day. He makes no effort to control himself in front of the Moosh, doesn't cook, clean, do laundry, or make any household contribution other than throwing fits. I have to practically beat his monthly monetary contribution out of him and I am so. fucking. tired. of. fighting. I can't take this any more. God.
I will probably take this post down later, but I just needed to get it all out, and maybe get some internet hugs.
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