Prisoners…

Ah Saturdays, they use to be the day of relaxation and fun, now they are the day of tiptoeing and arguments, trying to reconcile, avoiding social events, moping about and misery.

“This week has been an absolute nightmare”, his words, used to describe a week in which I have apparently tried to knock him down. It started with last Saturday and has slowly but surely declined since then, all of it my fault.

On Monday I told him during a discussion that people take advantage of his kind nature and that we are the ones to suffer, especially in situations involving money, he didn’t agree but instead took umbrage and told me I was saying he was a mug, I tried to tell him that its just a fact that he is too kind & there are some people that take advantage of this fact. He says I made him feel like a pushover, a weakling. My fault, he says I was acting on a subconscious level and that the materialistic nature of mine came to the fore and that I wanted money and therefore was nagging him to get some off a person he has lent some to. This person has owed him money for months, he’s not the one that has to pay the bills and has sleepless nights over massive credit card bills, yes I worry about money.

Tuesday, I can’t remember what happened Tuesday! Oh yeah, I made things out of felt on Tuesday, Tuesday passed quite calmly.

On Wednesday he came out with me to the theatre to watch my son in a Shakespeare festival where my son had a part in Hamlet, I had pre booked seats that were on the end by an exit and with room around us, always s consideration when goingvto the thestre ir cinema,  We have to sit by an escape route & have a plan. We went, he’s good at going to things if he can focus on it being about our son and not us. He’d do anything for our son. We watched the performances and was all ok until one of the schools decided to do Romeo & Juliet in the Welsh language, which completely misses the point of doing Shakespeare and also reinforcing the NAT’s he has about Welsh speakers hating him and having an attitude of superiority. Its a deep rooted thing he has from his childhood. So he was upset by it, angry they took something & bastardised it for a language, turning it into West Side Story performed in the style of an Eisteddfod piece (Eisteddfod, google it!).  As we sat there waiting for the auditorium to empty & before we got up to leave a man that had been sat behind us walked past and commented, not to us but to his wife, that he never thought Hamlet was going to end, my husband heard this  & reacted and shouted ‘Fucking Prick’ at him. The man didn’t hear him, thankfully, but it was just my husbands reaction to someone having a go at my son, all be it in a round about way, I calmed him down and we collected our son and came home. I needed a drink, our neighbour came around with a bottle of wine, I had a glass. Our neighbour started talking about the neighbours Xmas dinner, the one night of the year my husband usually enjoys, it usually involves a meal out and a long walk home. My neighbour was asking about us going out this coming weekend and I , with a loose tongue lubricated with wine, replied “It depends what mood he’s in”. That was a very wrong thing to say on my part. I instantly take on the role of his mother in his head, thats the type of thing she used to say to him, so he bottle it up and didn’t say anything to me about it until the next day, Id fallen sleep on the sofa at this point anyway.

Thursday I woke up dreaming I was chewing glass, grinding it between my teeth until it was fine enough to swallow, I woke thinking its OK, that it wasn’t a lot and not as much as I swallowed last time! Trying to process that I was awake I heard the chaos downstairs, my son’s tie had broken and my husband and son were rubbing off each other like flint and steel. There was an incident with my lost purse and we collected our car from the garage, I the suggested we went into town as it was Fair day to go and see what food trucks there were. We went, they were all greasy burgers and hot pork rolls, same old crap, he wanted a burger but I said I didn’t think it was a good idea, this was the match to the cloth, ‘stop treating me like my mother, you are not my keeper, you can’t tell me what to eat’, a whole barrage of hate towards his Mother directed at me. We went home.

Friday,  all seemed ok until I made him a roll for lunch. Id made him the wrong thing, he wanted to make his roll, how dare I make him a roll of my choosing when he wanted something else. I was being his mother again, making his decisions for him. I wasnt I was just making a roll and thought Id make him one so he didn’t have to make one himself as he may be hungry after chopping wood, but the problem was he didn’t go out for long, something had annoyed him in the garden or he was starting to add all the mood lability into a huge lump and it was gaining momentum. I had to go out, he told me to Fuck Off out again. I didn’t feel like going out but went out because it usually calms him if I just leave him alone for a while. Our son came home, he went out to meet him, the kids on the bus flag him and put their middle finger up at him, our son is telling him how the same kids are giving him abuse on the bus. BOOM, he goes off. The last straw, he hates the place, wants to move, hates society, hates me for letting this happen. Hates himself for not being able to protect our son, I in the meantime have rang the school to talk to the head teacher and sort the bus situation out. He is just venting, getting more and more wound up. I make dinner and we sit in different rooms all night, I just don’t want to wind him up anymore, but I know I don’t even have to be there for the mood lability to take a grip and he’s angry about something that happened 14 years ago. I went to bed early after being woken with a stet on the sofa, dreaming I was being pulled down a deep hole by me bound feet.

Saturday, today, I got up early, alone, with ear ache, Ive not slept much and the sleep I have had has been restless, full of dreams of good things going bad. I left him in bed. I made us a cup of tea, I took his up, he’s lying in bed staring at the ceiling. I go back down stair and start playing Destiny on my sons PS4, my son gets up and hears me playing and runs downstairs to help me as I am not very good, my husband comes down and witnesses a scene he has tried and failed to produce. He goes into auto magic pilot and makes breakfast, it lovely and we thank him but its just a routine, a program of commands he knows how to follow, post breakfast he goes upstairs and locks himself in our room. I go up to see if he is ok and he lets it all out, how I have made him feel crap this week, how I have belittles him, how I have made him a prisoner in his own home, how he’s given up so much for the family to be  family and him not leaving us. But mainly how much he hates me, hates that when he’s feeling good I knock him down, how its all my fault, how society perceives him as a retard, a mug, and how I think the same way all the other NT’s think. How Im mean and never tender, how I nag but don’t encourage, how I press buttons not give support. How I prefer the company of new made friends than him. Anything and everything from the past week gets dragged up, then things from before, I ask him what he needs? What can I do? He tells me to leave him alone, so I come down stairs. He comes down 10 mins later pulls on his boots and takes the dog out. I start writing this.

He’s back now, I don’t know if he’s calmer I daren’t look at him just in case he glares at me, I have a headache and stood in the bathroom for ten minutes earlier trying to remove the black circles under my eyes thinking it was mascara, when I discovered they weren’t coming off I realised how tired Im looking, how washed out, how hollow. Im tired, Im beaten down but I can escape, I can leave the house and mingle in society if I need to, he can’t, he is a prisoner, he has made it so he is his own judge, jury and executioner and I am his warden. Im his wife not his warden, Im his carer but Id rather be his wife.

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