Things are getting a bit CRAZY…

I woke up and the baby was in the middle of us. I went to bed irritated. I woke up in tears and I wanted to take a pillow and smoother him. Not suffocate him because of course he would fight back. Or even if he didn’t I wouldn’t suffocated him..

Well I take that back since most of us BS’s get the I never thought I was that kind of person from our Wayward’s, or I didn’t know I would take it that far since I didn’t attempt to put a pillow over his face who knows?

He might have called the cops on me and I could be in jail typing this. But we will never know what I’m capable of until I actually decide to go there.

I will tell him about it though.

Can’t keep wanting to smother your spouse to yourself?

Or maybe I will tell my circle first. Because Lord only knows what comes out of my mouth to M is not the fruits of the spirit lately.

But I suppose this morning I just wanted him to know what it’s like.

He has no fucking idea how maddening it is for me about how much I hate him and love him at the same time lately.

Or even to question himself because he is the stupid man to have an affair in the first place.

I question so much about myself staying.

What kind of person am I? What do I see as love to me? What absolutely do I not find loving?

What will I not fucking tolerate every again from his stupid ass??

Maybe since I have said very little to him since we have gotten here. Maybe since I feel like I have to turn off to get through this life of mine. Which makes me wonder could that be a good thing?

But don’t fret for M’s life I bet no matter how hard I pressed the low budget Super 8 pillow couldn’t suffocate anyone anyway.. I bet one of those memory foam gel pillows would do it easy and well I’m not spending that kind of money to go to prison or jail.

I’m going to look up recipes for the new house we will soon move into.

I wish M knew all the things that swirl in my head about him maybe he wouldn’t be so stupid and try to listen to his band videos the ones I supported him to going, missing out on our family time to practice for while he’s having an affair, or pretending to taste me through my clothes and I’m like your icky.. seriously.. get the fuck off me.. Do I really want you down there where your tongue has been all over herpes whore??

He’s so stupid..


5 thoughts on “Things are getting a bit CRAZY…

  1. LOL – you’re not alone!

    I’ve told W that most mornings – if there’s any daylight when I wake up that is… I’m wired to wake up about 30-45 minutes before dawn (the latest I’ve ever awakened is 9am, after serious jet lag/driving home 4 hours in the wee morning and getting into bed at 5am) – I see his face on the pillow and measure my hand, millimeters away from his skin.

    I’ll “square it away,” palm hovering over his face, wind back, and go for a SLAP. An epic, How I Met Your Mother type of slap. Again… stopping *just* shy of his skin. There’s electricity in my fingers, from the excitement of it. Then, I’ll rest my hand on his face, using the warmth of his skin to dull the aching spark of wanting to feel the firey burn of my hand slapping – just once – the SHIT out of his cheek. As he sleeps.

    I never see his sleeping face and DON’T want to slap him. He’s told me I can, just let him know so he can brace for it. LOL! (Neither of us have ever struck each other, btw.) I won’t slap him BUT… if I did? The JOY of it would be that he would NOT be able to brace himself. He’d be dreaming of sugar mamas and no responsibilities and his dog and taking the kids to Disney – or whatever else I suspect is dreamed out of his latent mind – and he’d be awakened by seeing an orangey-pink FLASH beneath his eyelids and he’d feel like he was ON FIRE.

    So when W wakes up now and it seems all sweet that my hand is softly cupping his cheek? He knows what I’ve just done. I’ve just NOT slapped the fucking shit out of him.

    You’re welcome, W.

    It’s that self-control that is REALLY helping me stay committed to doing my 2-mile swim and eat well, every day, so I can slim down. Then there are the consequences of me slapping him. I feel like it would – literally – kill him. When I was a teenager, I finally began to understand my own strength. I still am strong but I know when to and when to not use it. I don’t spank because of it. I don’t do playful punches with friends. I can push neighbors’ cars out of snowbanks or over the lip of an icy curb by myself, in my slippers. If I slapped him, I’m afraid it would end up being manslaughter. His cheek would explode all over our linens, the inside of his head would be rattled, and his heart would stop from the shock.

    And that’s too good for him. He deserves to live with what he’s done.

    Thank goodness I usually wake up BEFORE there’s any light in the sky. Lamp light doesn’t incite the same reaction.

    • Seriously though – I’d afraid it wouldn’t stop. If I slapped him, it would feel like what I imagine it feels like to slit one’s wrists. Those tattoos on my wrists from February? I’ve never felt GOOD pain like that… except when slapping someone. When I was 7, I punched a 6th-grade kid on the bus for putting his hand up my skirt. (Keep in mind, I was being molested a few times a week by a 15 year-old boy who held my arms down, at the time. The 11 year-old boy was almost my size, having not gone through puberty yet.) I broke his nose and his cheek split open, on his teeth. Nothing ever happened. My mother wasn’t called. That boy just didn’t show up on the bus anymore.

      When I was 11, I was playing with my little brother and swung him around by his arms. I enjoyed that when I little and my parents did it with him all the time. I’d just had a growth spurt and was 5’7″ so I was TALL ENOUGH to swing him around without him touching the ground. They were watching and it was fine; I wasn’t being aggressive… just doing what I’d seen. It was fun! But it wasn’t… because his arms came out of the sockets, at the shoulder. BOTH of them. I’ve not struck anyone since. I’ve come close… like when my ex-boyfriend had me pinned down and was spitting in my face and slapping me and throwing me across the room. I wouldn’t hit him… but I’d sure hold onto his hair, which either resulted in clumps coming out in my hands or him being thrown, right along with me. I’ve been AFRAID of slapping or hitting anyone since I was 7.

      25 years on… with me MUCH stronger than then? If my actual life isn’t at stake? I will not hit anyone. They’d die or come damn close..

  2. HA! ohhhh, I so know the feeling. It’s funny you compare pillow abilities. Shortly after D-day, H was all into getting new pillows. And he desperately wanted those Microfiber and gel ones…we ended up with both. Do you know how hard it was for me NOT to smother him? But that would only put him out of his misery lol, (especially after he gave me the go ahead) what about mine? Like you, I chose to let him live and suffer.

    Focus on your new house now, and trying to move forward. New recipes sound like a wonderful help.I want a new house so bad, but I’m still so much in the air everyday, would it be a good thing? I just want to leave this place and the ugly memories behind and focus on strengthening a newer “remodeled” us.

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