It’s the looks that hurt the most, the words I can cope with, they hurt but they’re vapour, ephemeral . The looks burn, deep, painful, smouldering. Glares & glowers with hate filled eyes. There’s never any looks of love or longing, always pain & anger. It’s hard to live with someone who looks at you every morning, frowning with eyes so black like vacuous holes that suck hope from your own.
He’s moved into his music room. He’s going to stay in there, sleep in there, spend his evenings in there. Essentially we’ve separated, all this has been done in silence but the actions are screaming out. I can’t help but feel this is an exact re-enactment of what my parents did to me at 14. My father moved into a room apart from my mother, either side of my room, I was piggy in the middle, the Berlin Wall. We seem to be doing the same. The difference being my mother instigated the separation as she was having an affair & wanted a divorce, now, here, he wants to stay around but not interact. Be separate, more separate. Apart.
I know how this ends, I’ve seen it before. I’m weak & needy & desperate & get lonely. I start going out, doing my own thing, filling my time, finding someone to make me feel better…
I don’t like this.
Anything else going to throw it’s hat in the ring? Any more pain? I’m exhausted, empty of emotions & numb.
Cricket season has started again & so has husbands hatred of the club & all the old men that are trying to find glory playing for it, who get to spend time with our son while he can’t. It’s triggered a huge pointless argument.
I get a phone call. I’ve dropped son off & got caught up in bbq preparations at the clubhouse with a fellow mum so time has flown. “Where the f#¥k are you?” He shouts at me down the phone. Surprised by his tone “Im just leaving.” I say walking towards the car, my son has just bowled out his best friends dad he shouts”I’ll get myself some lunch then” & hangs up the phone. I go to the supermarket as planned as we’ve no food in & return to the house as fast as I can. He’s not around. I unload the car. As I’m putting things away he comes into the kitchen,
“I’m sorry I didn’t come straight back”
“You said you were dropping him off, going to the supermarket & coming straight home!” He shouts.
“The last thing I heard you say before I left this morning was that you’re going to be up in the tent & best left alone, so I didn’t rush because I thought you wanted to be alone, like yesterday”
“You liar” He shouts back,
“I’m not lying, that’s the last thing you said as I left, why would I think that if you didn’t say it”
“You f#€king liar!!” He shouts, louder this time. ” I didn’t say that at all. You f#$king liar, you’re making it up to fit your actions, I’ve had enough of you, I’m going, I’m leaving, Fuck you” he throws his tea cup at the wall, it hits & tea sprays everywhere as he turns & walks away, the veins throb out of his red angry face.
He goes upstairs, grabs a rucksack & starts ripping things out of his wardrobe to put in the bag. He starts shouting how I don’t help him, how he’s been on his own all week, he was on his own one night because I had to go to my fathers funeral & took my son because he couldn’t face family but I returned as early as possible the next day, the rest of the afternoon we all sat together in the garden, other than that I’ve been with him all the time,,even hobbling on a swollen ankle to where he’s been in the garden to keep him company. He’s shouting “I’m going, only I can help me, I hate this place & all the people here, they’ve poisoned this town for me & you have another family you can go to, go be with your other middle class playing happy families family!”
We shout back & forth a while, I take the car keys from the hook “where the fuck do you think you’re going with them, I want the car!! Well I won’t be here when you get back!!”
I walk out the front door, he slams the inner door behind me so hard I think the glass is going to shatter. I sit outside for a bit to calm down. I go back in, he’s upstairs again, packing. “Calm down, think about what you’re doing, you can’t leave” I say
“Can’t I? Well fucking watch me, fuck you!” He says this lifting his middle finger at me & barges past me telling me to “move!”
He goes downstairs, I sit on the top of the stairs as he sits on the sofa shouting words after words, all hurtful, all from a place of pain. He wants to go. I can’t stop him so I just sit still on the stairs. I’ve not eaten or drank anything so I move to get a drink. He’s still sitting on the sofa, quiet now. I decide to just do something normal so I get the washing in & put fresh out, when I come back in the house he’s moved off the sofa to his room.
I get a text off son asking to be picked up, he’s asking how I am & how his Dad is? I lie, saying we’re both ok, no point worrying him or getting him anxious.
I go up & tell him .Im going to pick son up, “do you want to come?”
“NO!” He growls back.
“Do you want to get him instead of me?”
“NO” he spits at me.
I shut the door to his room & leave.
We’re back & he’s still in his room, I think!
All this because I didn’t come home straight away because I thought he wanted some time on his own to deal with his anger over cricket.
‘There’s a little mouse who lives in a hole down there’, he tells me as I lay across him, my small young body, lying lengthways across his lap in the armchair in which we sit all alone, in the front room, the tv on, volume low. ‘I can try and make it come out’ he says as I lay there giggling. ‘There’s his little nose’, as his fingers tickles under the white, soft cotton of my underwear, I enjoy tingling feelings of pleasure I shouldn’t know so young. ‘He’s running away’ as he runs his yellow stained fingers up across my bare abdomen. I giggle more & look up and say “I love you, do it again!”…
I’m so depressed, since my fathers passing I’ve fallen & injured my ankle & caught horrible chest infection from my son. My husband is on a very short leash due to contact with the in laws & them just turning up on the doorstep unannounced, again, despite being asked to please text or ring first, & is running around like a blue arsed fly trying to do everything & thinking he’s doing these things for me, then getting angry when I say to him he didn’t have to do the washing or whatever today, I don’t care if the housework doesn’t get done until I’m feeling better. It would be nice if he would make some healthy meals but all his meals consist of baked beans & eggs & potatoes with some kind of protein or other or a ham & cheese sandwich. I need vegetables, I need flavours, I need proper food that won’t give me heartburn for a week! I’ve not eaten for 3 days…
We are at each other’s throats because he says I’m treating him like his parents do, that I don’t appreciate him. I think this is all guilt about him not being able come to my Dads funeral, I’m going with my son by train as I drive not want to drive, but I’m happy to go with just me & my son, I’ve told him this but then he feels like I’m excluding him to find comfort in my family & they all think he’s nuts & will male me hate him. So I’m walking on fire..
All I want to do is stop the shouting, stop the fear stop the chest infection & curl up in a ball under a blanket & just stay there… maybe with a hot bowl of chicken soup.
My dad died at 10pm last night. At the time I had the phone call from my brother my son came downstairs asking for my Amazon password to buy crap for the game he’s banned from playing, the guy I’m doing work for texted for a chat & my neighbour knocked the door for a nightcap. My husband was upstairs. I let my neighbour in told him my father had just died & I had to tell my som & ran upstairs to my sons room to explain why I was sobbing when he came down. My husband walked straight passed me & went downstairs to let neighbour out. My husband has given no sympathy, no hugs, no cuddles of comfort, nothing. He commented on our sons behaviour & dodgy BBC comedy. Watching the comedy he fell asleep on the sofa next to me & took himself to bed. I went up but he just rolled over & pulled the covers over himself. I lay there for 15 mins, him as far away from me as possible, so I got up & I’m now downstairs again, it’s 2:31am, I can’t sleep. I’m feeling so sad & alone.
I know what’s wrong, I know why he’s not even pretending to have emotion of sympathy. He is annoyed at me because at the dinner table, while I was waiting for my brother to ring to tell me my father had died, I told him to eat the cucumber on his plate, he took umbrage at the tone. He told me the way I talk to him makes him really dislike me. He told me how he hates his mother because she has no emotion, how callous she is, unable to see he is being the same…
My stepmother divorced my father as soon as she suspected he had the beginnings of dementia. She abandoned him everyday to spend the days with her proper family leaving him alone so that his condition accelerated. She divorced him to make sure she had half of his savings from the business he sold, his business, the business he started with my mother when I was 2. She divorced him to have half the house he struggled to buy but bought on his own before they met. She divorced him at this point because she was no more than a greedy gold digger, she literally dug around in the attic looking for gold sovereigns she thought he had hidden up there. She was wicked & selfish & greedy…..
I’ve just had a phone call from my brother preparing me that my Dad may not make it to the end of the week, he has dementia & has had for about 7 years, this weekend he’s stopped swallowing & breathing properly. All my husband has to say was to ask me how many days I was going to be away for the funeral & can I not take the car. He says he can’t be around my family so can’t give me the support I need.
I understand but sometimes the logical unemotional attitude is harsh…..callous.
Being married to a person with Aspergers you realise after a few months that all the initial passion you thought they were displaying towards you, the emotions and displays of affection, are all actually just them acting, copying an emotion from others that they think they should display. It’s false. They love you yes, they have passion but generally it’s for something else, something much more interesting than you.
You have to accept that emotions are a mine field for them, that excitement can spiral into a hyper state that they cannot regulate and get out of quickly, that mood has liabilities, consequences that are not positives.
You have to regulate your emotions, not be too excited, too passionate, too depressed. You have to be level, consistent, considerate, constantly aware of how you’re emoting.
It’s hard, especially if you were a vivacious, people pleasing person. I have changed a lot in the past 18 years, I have grown up, thought about how I portray myself, how I project. I miss passion, I miss excitement but I’ve traded it for someone I know will always be at my side & will be loyal.