Pretty sure my marriage is over.
I'm just tired of the abuse. I didn't recognize it as abusive for way too long. But now that my eyes are open, I'm done. I'm not being beaten. Names are not being called. When it's emotional abuse it's a lot harder to recognize.
My husband never helps out around the house. He does not do the yardwork. I work full time, do all of the child-rearing and care (for my child) and for his when she visits. He does not attend school/activity functions. He never wants to go anywhere or do anything. He does not cook. Please note that he USED to do these things. When we were courting.
Two weeks ago I was trying to start the weed-wacker, which is difficult for me even when I'm not injured, but a wrist injury makes it nearly impossible. I asked him for help. He grew angry and I finally started it myself.
But I told him, most husbands would be THRILLED that their wife was going to weedwack. They would be lining up to help her start the darned thing if she were going to do the lawn. Especially if he had not mown it in well over a month.
I left for my grandmother's funeral last month for four days. I left dishes in the sink. When I came back, late on the evening before I had to go to work again, the same dishes were there. There was no dinner made. I mentioned this to him, and he countered that when he had left last week for a week-long work conference and came back, there were dishes in the sink.
Yes, I replied. But not the same ones. Also, while you were gone I grouted the steps to the gazebo, planted six trees, picked up and spread two cubic yards of mulch on the trees, rototilled and mulched the garden, planted the garden, cleaned the house, did laundry, powerwashed the front concrete... all while working 40 hours and caring for my daughter.
Two days ago he called me an entitled princess. It was the wrong day to say something like that. I had gone to work, then come home and cleaned out 100' of irrigation pipe that had become clogged; following the drain from the bottom to the garden, slogging and digging through foul smelling stagnant water.
I'm in my early 30's. I'm reasonably attractive, 5'3, 125, with a degree, a good job, and an excellent work ethic. I'm not afraid to get dirty. I think I have a pretty good sense of humor. I'm fairly easy to get along with. Most people tend to like me and find me interesting. I don't go out and party, I don't spend money on clothes or shopping. I'm not a nag.
Ask me why I've been so dumb. This is my second marriage. I've had it. Last night he was sweet as pie, asking how my hand is, making dinner, etc.
I'm not buying it.
I don't really have a question but I'd like input. I've made my decision. The hard part is going to be finishing off our house so it's rentable/sellable in this market. We're at the tail end of a lot of renovations, majority of which we've done ourselves, or I've done with his instruction as he hurt his back and refuses to do any sort of physical activity/strengthening exercises (other than lay on his back to watch TV). He also does an impressive beer can curl-up. /s
Here's what really opened my eyes though. After I hurt my hand I was unable to stir my peanut butter. I prefer the mix-yourself kind. I asked him to stir it. He refused.
Love is stirring peanut butter. He does not love me. That's what really hurts. I thought he did. All these years I have taken his car in for oil changes, dropped it off at the shop and ridden my bicycle home so's not to inconvenience him, gone out of my way to make his life easier.
But mostly I'm sad at myself that I couldn't recognize, or wouldn't recognize his behavior for what it really is. Selfish.