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The morning after

24 August, 2013

He said he’s sorry. He said he felt mocked. He said “What more can be said?” “What do you want me to say?!”

I got up feeling unsatisfied with what he said. I returned to pass on the news that the eldest didn’t want him on their planned trip to Melbourne. “He’s done this all my life”, the eldest said.

I get a coffee. My machine is playing up and sprays water and grounds everywhere. The coffee tastes like mud and I throw it out to start again.

I have gotten up to try and do my assignment but my head is a mess. All I can think of is last night and words of wisdom I heard yesterday saying have “a time for being miserable (for example) and then moving on” didn’t seem to help.

I found a couple of journals to reference. Hubby has come to me and said, “What should I do?” as he plays with his Pristiq tablets.

I tell him to call our GP urgently Monday and use him as his psych. He later comes to me and suggests another that he had gone to through work.

He wants to apologise to our friends from last night. He remembers everything. I know he wasn’t drunk. It wasn’t a loss of control. Even he doesn’t understand what happened to make him react as he did.

So what are my feelings? My psychology tells me to name the feeling, acknowledge it and then I’m able to step through and away from it into the next.

I’ve tried to so far but it’s a clatter of noise. There is shame but I was so involved in the moment that I didn’t see others reactions of help or otherwise – even to thank them.

There is anger. At hubby for putting me into this position as a wife, as a cop, as a mother and as a woman.

There is frustration. I couldn’t seem to control the situation. I felt helpless. Even though I was in his face and I slapped him twice to try and get him to snap out of it.

One part of me wanted to see him actually locked up. I would have told them to keep him in under public drunkenness for 8 hours but that would have been stretching the truth.

A part of me wants me to see him break down in remorse rather than be clingy and wanting to hug me. I wondered if the hug was more for him or me.

I’m in a destructive mood. I want to break my nails, pick at the faults but have to stop myself as they will be redone shortly.

I’m self sabotaging I feel. My assignment isn’t being done. I’ve gone out to the car where it’s quite. Our “bear” has joined me thinking he’d get a ride. He’s gently snoring with his head my knee in the warm sun.

I want someone to talk this through but don’t know who to turn to. The ones I want to turn to are blokes. One I trust has an untrusting wife.

I want to cry in my disappointment. I want someone big and secure who can wrap me up in a hug and tell me I’m going to be ok. “We’re” going to be ok. “He’s” going to be ok. He’s going to get better.

Doggy kisses will have to do.


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