Saturday, August 2, 2014

Blame

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This week, more than ever, it feels like I'm standing in the path of an avalanche holding up an umbrella...









I keep wondering if this will go on and on and on and on into eternity.
Just when I think things are calming down and we begin to make some progress; WHAM, another king-hit from out of the blue and it's all back in play. All the horrible stuff from the beginning that sets my hands shaking, my pulse racing and my lungs feeling like they're being crushed.  His all too obvious loathing burgeons like a poisonous thorn covered bloom.  If looks could kill - indeed.

This is when I look back at the past few months; pinch myself and think; 'It's like he just woke up one morning and decided to hate my guts.'  I must be God himself because in my ex-husband's eyes, I made everything - I am solely responsible for this new strange place we are in.

Not his illness, not his lies, not his discharging himself from hospital that first time, it's me - all me.
He said once in therapy that he doesn't blame me - but the twisted accusations rapid-fire at me, like bullets from a semi-automatic weapon, every time he gets worked up.

On top of this never ending cycle of tolerable quasi-cease-fire followed by more turmoil and abusive indictments, it seems I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I scored high on the test and my GP has given me a referral to a psychiatrist to help me deal.
But apparently and unfortunately, I don't have time to grieve - I'm told there's too much important, logistical and survival 'stuff' to work through.

I started think about the possibility of  PTSD  a little under two weeks ago.
He came back from another trip and found out our 11-year-old-terminally-ill-laptop had crashed and I'd taken in to an IT specialist.
He went ballistic.
He scared me. He did it in front of Lilli.
He shouted he ranted and when I tried to answer his accusations he put up his hand and shouted "ENOUGH!".  Lilli, after coming down the stairs yelling "stop fighting!" sat on  the bottom step with me and held my shaking hands. She rubbed them in her tiny hands and kissed them, giving me her best maternal smile.

After he left, the text messages came thick and fast and in the end, in desperation, I threatened to have the AVO strengthened if he didn't calm down. 
In a heartbeat he changed tack; Darth Vader became Yoda and he floated back and forth between saying how 'worried he was about me' and doing a thoroughly convincing job on me that I pretty much imagined the whole thing; that  he'd 'just been a bit upset' but it wasn't directed towards me.

He can be very convincing; it's a new talent he developed along with quite a spectacular aptitude for lying.

But that aside, this week's problems have arisen out of court.
It seems we are going to court; that the expected form stamping solution has been tangled up in red tape.  My lawyer reminds me helpfully that I have no responsibility for, or control over this situation, but lets face it -  if it upsets him and I don't find a softer solution - who will be bear the brunt of it?

I'm already bearing the brunt; yesterday was pretty bad; I felt the avalanche coming as early as 10am... and the day got progressively worse from then on.

The icing on the cake was to be my little munchkin's second sleep-over with Him. 

It is so strange not having my little angel sleeping safely in her bed.
Where I would be kissing her sweet sleeping face one last time before I go to bed, I look at her open door and the empty room.

Even the dog is restless; unnerved. His tail between his legs, he shadows me whining softly. He clings and I break all the rules and let him sleep on my bed. But neither of us really sleeps, my eyes open frequently and each time, in the shafts of moonlight, I can see his staring back at me.

When she's home again and I go into her room that last time before I retire, I snuggle her gently and kiss her soft cheeks.  Her hand moves over her head and she sighs, murmurs in her sleep as always.

I wonder how he can bear to miss this every night. How can any parent choose to give this up?

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