Long & Painful
November 19, 2008
Last night after my phone conversation with the therapist, Will and I had a talk that turned into a fight that turned into a talk.
At it's best, Will said that he would go to his chaplain and get individual counseling for verbal abuse. He said, at two different times, that he could see how the way he talks to me could be seen as verbal abuse. Fortunately, I guess, those statements came after the fight during the second talk.
Unfortunately, he's told me that he takes full responsibility for hurting me and would "do better" at least one time before. So please forgive me if I hold more than an armful of doubt. I'm not exactly on cloud 9 and doing the Snoopy dance because he's going to counseling. I am, however, hesitantly hopeful that God or Spirit or the Universe will match him up with the person who will help instead of someone who will be blinded by his charms and half-truths.
I'm not going to stop planning for the worst-case scenario just because he said that he would "try."
At the worst part of the fight, he threw my books on the floor, got right in my face and yelled, "You're such a cunt!" This came at a point where we were both out of control. He said he wished he could hit me. I was not cowering in a corner when this all happened, mind you. I was in his face. I was pissed off. Really, really angry.
The worst of the fight came after one exact thing happened. We were both yelling, past the point of reasonable communication. He went to where the boys were and told them that they needed to go to their rooms or to the back of the house because "your mother is acting like a child."
Boy, was I pissed. I agreed that the boys needed to get out of the vicinity. I disagreed with the fact that he told them that I was acting like a child when he was doing the exact same thing. I did something wrong to the boys at this point - instead of just letting them go, I said, "No, you two need to go to Miss Dee's house."
I felt like he disrespected me (which he did). But instead of just letting it go, I did the same thing back to him. He was wrong, but so was I. I knew I had sent them a conflicting message as soon as I said it. He walked up to them and I slid myself between him and the boys. I wanted to be a shield to them. I wanted them to NOT have to hear what idiots their father and I had become. I wanted the worst to come to me, not to them.
They went to Marc's room together and turned the music up loud. That's when Will threw the books and called me that name. I knew he wanted it to hurt me and to hurt me bad, but I had a surprising reaction.
I laughed. I laughed loud. I turned away laughing and walked down the hall to our bedroom. I said, "Do you really expect that word to hurt me after everything else you've said?" And that's how I felt.
After walking to our bedroom, I figured it would be smart to stay in there for a bit. I don't know what I was doing as I went through my closet and drawers. At some point I decided it wasn't worth leaving the house at this point. I'd only have to come back. I turned on the digital voice recorder and went back out.
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