Not allowed to be angry

Beyond Angry.  But didn’t drink 😊!  Instead, dug into an old stash of tranqualizers (Rivotril – Clonazepam).  What am I doing?  Hiding!  I am very good at hiding.

I think other people react differently. I think other people fight, or say something.  I don’t believe I have the right to do that, because I am irrational.  It’s either hormonal, or bipolar, or anxiety, or whatever the fuck is going on with me, but it’s certainly not the other person’s fault.  In actual fact, I am even more ashamed of myself because where I should have empathy and understanding and love for my husband and tolerance for my husband’s son, I actually want this son out of my life, permanently.

So sad.  Only two weeks ago I was explaining to my sister the joy of seeing value in having this boy in my life.  In a conversation with Spirit/ God/ Consciousness (fuck Consciousness), a message came through that said the bane-of-my-life would be there for my hubby when I died.  And I felt so relieved.  This son would be good at that.  Thanks to all the care and effort my hubby has put into his useless arse for the last 18 years.  And although there will be multiple ‘failures to launch’, I expect by the time he is 40, and my husband is 70, he should be on his own two feet.  Which means that I am free to die from around that age and hubby will be cared for and loved.  What more could I want?

Well all those benign feelings have gone out the window.  Hubby’s kids are with us for the next few weeks while their mom is on a work thing.  So no greetings from the son when his dad is not around – something that I get used to in waves – but there was a final straw.  Well, one of the many different final straws on different piles of shit. 

This straw was a complaint about the food in our house, which, to be honest, I was not supposed to hear. The food in my home (see there is no reference to ‘our home’ to show how divisive I can be) is delicious and nutritious.  The son prefers to eat junk, so his comment to his dad was that it was ‘debatable’ whether the dinner so carefully prepared would be tasty.  Well, he gets junk from now on.  In fact, I will personally buy him white bread and chocolate in large quantities for him to eat in his room, where he can leave all his plates and shit for our poor housekeeper to clean up after him.  Because at 18, I am still struggling to understand what he can do for himself.

I am in hiding. If I felt comfortable at home – in other words, he was not there and neither was his dad, who is equally as culpable, for treating him like a fragile doll … the pandering! which drives me insane…. I would be at home.  But hiding at the moment means disappearing. Literally, when I am at home, I am sleeping or binge watching series, otherwise I am out. Don’t shower, don’t wash my hair, just leave. And I am going shopping. I feel the urge to spend mountains on money on all the stuff I have been careful with because our finances are tight. 

But who the fuck cares?  The car hubby bought for his son, in cash, was a huge waste of time.  Almost a year later, the boy still doesn’t have his drivers’ licence?!  I have been so well for so long. I have been Alcohol Free for almost a year and believed I was cured.  This anger is overwhelming. What is this?  Do I not have a leg to stand on because there is something wrong with me?  Like my first marriage…. The problem lies with me. My anger is so overwhelming I would prefer to be alone.