I can hardly bear to look at Facebook at the moment. I’m feeling too much envy for all my friends’ happy family posts.
Women whose husbands love and support them whose children are safe.
Or my single mom friends who can work and raise happy well adjusted children without a daily battle-a fight for survival.
Friends who don’t have a target plastered on their backs.
Having the man I married and supported through severe clinical depression, then mania and assault charges and infidelity, ravaging our savings, betrayal piled on betrayal – to look at me with such suppressed violence.
His face contorted and clenched tight like the white knuckled fists he clearly wants to beat me with.
But someone’s been coaching him.
Clearly he's been warned...
When he comes to pick up Lily, he’s wound up so tight with the exertion of restraint, he looks about to explode.
Amazing that anyone got through to him regarding moderating his wild behavior, because I certainly couldn’t.
Not now not before.
A friend of his who had lunch with him this week agreed about that – texted me he felt Claude's 'about to blow up.”
I am trying hard to steer clear of the whole ‘poor me’ thing. But I’m just so tired and this constant campaign of Claude’s; taking exception, most aggressively and enthusiastically, to everything I do or say, just breathing it seems.
This is making me physically ill now; I’ve been ill all day and trying to get things done; grocery shopping - home repairs, taking care of my sick baby. Every time I get another email like the one saying he'll come tomorrow and get her no matter what – the cramps come and I’m ill.
You see Lily stayed home ill, this weekend, and there’s been Hell to Pay. More threats on top of his and his lawyer’s emails yesterday. By the way, apparently I have $40,000 at my disposal aside from the mortgage payments I quarantined.
Wish I knew where – I’d put it aside for legal fees.
Or better still, pack up Lily the dog and the cat and just run as fast and far as I could. But no. don’t have a stash of cash beyond the mortgage account I’m afraid. So again I’m living under the threat of discontinued support for Lily and I.
Thank God, my mum is staying with us. The strain and fear is nearly killing her but she hangs in there, because it helps.
This bastard of a man has really upped the ante and I don’t know how well I would be doing if I had to face this alone. Open his awful emails without someone else here with me.
I’m also trying to avoid the ‘would a-should a-could a’s’. for example, in hindsight – I should a kicked him to the curb in 2014. I would a never have talked him around out of his suicidal thoughts.
I could a slammed the shutters, changed the locks and emptied the bank accounts the first time he turned on me.
You see how living with the muck and filth of his twisted mind is warping my own soul?
This time it’s so much worse. At least the first time he left the country for the most part to chase skirt.
Now he’s here always, in my face like a freshly converted zealot; making a religion out of destroying me.