...And I Don't Know How It Happened.

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this particular story, I wrote it almost two weeks ago, and thought it was too long and too harsh at the time.  Because things are still pretty much the same today, I feel like I need to share it, even though  I’m kind of afraid I’m allowing the world to watch me unravel in front of their eyes.  I’m not even sure what my point is, especially since I contradict myself every other sentence.  But, I don’t want to edit it, no matter how long it has gotten, because it followed my thought process, no matter how crazy it seems and how insanely long it became.   So, here it is…

There is a new trend in my house lately.  If I start to get upset with my husband for anything, he immediately turns it around on me and never even hears what my issue is.  If he said something that offended me, I am unable to even tell him what it was before he cuts me off, blows up and says something along the lines of “I have PTSD, I can’t deal with this, don’t make it worse”  or the even worse “I have PTSD, if you can’t handle it, you know the way out.”  Then, he walks away.  EVERY TIME.  If I don’t agree with his point of view, if I’m upset, he walks away…period. 

As a result, I never get my say, my issues with the things he’s doing pile up, and eventually I’m angry at him for 30 different things, when one small issue at a time could have been resolved without any anger.  Then, every time, he comes back 10-15 min later and says the exact same condescending thing “Are you over it now?  Are we good?”  The few times I’ve said no he’s lost it and broke things around the house, did a lot of  screaming, and then ended up depressed in bed for hours to days at a time.  So, to spare the kids witnessing more of this, and to spare myself having to deal with it, I’ve just started saying “okay.”

But things aren’t okay. 

It’s gotten to the point where I don’t tell him most things that upset me in the first place.  I’m not sure when this started.  I’m not sure when PTSD became his excuse to not try, his escape, and his out.  I don’t know when I took on the roll of door mat.  I don’t know when I quit trying to make him see my point.  But now that I realize it’s like this, it feels like I gave up on him.  Even worse, I feel like I gave up who I am.  I feel like I don’t have a voice in my own home; like I’m just along for the ride.  My opinions, my input, my anger…they are all dismissed as things he “can’t handle.”  I’m a visitor in my own life.  I’m a non-entity.  I don’t speak.

And somehow, I just noticed it this weekend.  Looking back, it’s been this way for months, and I don’t know how it happened. 

Before I say another word, I want to tell you that I have this sense of guilt that I’m talking badly about my spouse.  There is another side to him that is caring, doting and loving...that puts us first every time, that is a joy to be around. When I say he waits on me hand and foot, I’m not exaggerating at all.  He keeps our home spotless.  He caters to my needs.  In some aspects, he spoils me.

And then there is this side of him. But the thing is I still don’t feel like this is “him” behaving this way.  People have told me that what I’m about to describe isn’t a part of his illness, but I think they are wrong.  I DO feel like it’s the PTSD, because he was NOT this way before.  And I love this man more than I could express.  If I didn’t, or if I felt like this was all hopeless, I wouldn’t be here suffering next to him any longer.   

I’m also not blaming him, or the PTSD.  I take full responsibility for the fact that I haven’t been standing up for myself or working toward a better situation for myself and our children.  I’m not claiming to be a victim.  AND, I’ll say right now, also, that I have a tendency to exaggerate without knowing I’m doing it.  It’s very possible that I’ve made this into more than it is and it's really nothing at all…or maybe he’s convinced me that’s what I do.  Heck, maybe it's even worse than I think it is.  It could even be the case that I was the one who was wrong here, and he was defending himself.  Honestly, I don’t know.  I truly don't know.

I just know I feel like I don't know if my feelings are valid any more.  I wonder if I'm becoming as delusional as he is.

He did something that offended me this weekend.  What he did and said isn’t important (because it’s a long story, AND this is long enough, and I know it wasn't intentional), but it was offensive to me. Instead of confronting him, because we were going away with the kids for the weekend, and I didn’t want to ruin the trip before it started, I decided to do what had become the “norm.”  I just went to my room to cool off.  He came back a few minutes later, and asked if I was angry about something.  This happens a lot also, and usually I just say “it was nothing.”  I don't know why I picked this inconvenient time to tell him what my issue was.  I don't know why I bothered, because I know he can't pay attention long enough to hear the explanation of what I was saying.  I just felt like I had to.  And in all reality, I may have been being overly sensitive. But that doesn’t matter.  What matters is I was offended and I wanted him to understand why.   It was minor, and should have been a 2 minute discussion.  It should have never been a fight.

Instead, the second I began speaking, he started to get worked up.  Every word I said his face got redder, his fists balled up tighter and the tendons in his neck strained more.  He couldn’t or wouldn’t listen to a word I was saying.  And I got the same response I always do.   “I have PTSD, I can’t handle this.  This is your problem, I didn’t do anything wrong.  Why are you trying to get me upset? Why can’t you just let anything go?  You say you walk on eggshells around me, but I feel like I can’t say anything to you.”  And even though I'm SURE there is also some truth to that, the last line was like a slap in the face.

Like I said, normally, when he starts to freak out I’ve just let it go, even when I know I’m right.  But this time, I couldn’t hold my tongue another second.  “YOU feel like you can’t say anything?  Is this a joke?  I’m not allowed to get mad, because it bothers your PTSD.  I’m not allowed to have opinions in our home other than what you believe, because it bothers your PTSD.  Who is it that can’t say anything around here?”  He wasn’t hearing a word I was saying.  He went into a rage and broke the foot board off my bed.  He just split the wood in half and ripped it off. 

I couldn’t take it any longer.  It was like this flood of anger took over me.  I realized all the times in the last few months that I’ve forced myself to just shut off what is bothering me because I didn’t want to deal with his fits.  THEN I further realized that he is using his anger to try to scare me into submission.  I don’t even think he’s doing it consciously.  I just think the intimidation has been working, so he’s stuck with it. 

He proceeded to try to turn the situation around, like usual, to his PTSD, instead of what the real and original issue was.  Everything always comes back to that.  So, instead of standing there listening to it and taking the blame, I did the childish thing and did what he does to me.  I walked out of the room while he was talking to me…mid-sentence.   I did it on purpose and I did it out of anger.  It was wrong, and I was still was unable to get my point across because of it (not that that ever would have happened anyway.) But at that time, it felt as right as could be. 

It took everything in me to remain calm and not to roll my eyes at him when he came out to me, hurt and upset and said “For the record, you just walked out on me when I was trying to explain to you what my problem was.”  I still couldn’t have this fight.  We were about to leave, and the kids were there waiting.  So I walked away again, and he sulked back into the room.

Because I was still acting childish at this point, I took it a step further.  I waited about 10 minutes, walked into the room, took another line from his book, and said “Are you over it yet?  Are we good?” and just stood and waited while he looked at me in shock and finally said “yeah, we’re good.”

And then, I wouldn’t let him act upset.  I carried on for the rest of the day like nothing happened.  I wasn’t going to let him sulk and ruin yet another event the kids were looking forward to.  I wasn’t going to let him be a jerk to me and ruin my weekend.  But of course, that wasn’t the end of it.  Is it ever?

The entire next day he was on edge, but it wasn’t until the next evening he tried to use the PTSD card to his advantage again.  And let me warn you that it was over the dumbest thing ever.  The whole argument doesn't even make sense, and I think neither one of us was at fault at first...it was just a misunderstanding.  If what he thought was happening really was, it would be valid…but it wasn’t even close. 

Along with his PTSD he has some form of OCD.  He tells me the therapist says the things he does are form of control…he has to be able to control some situations because he feels like he’s not in control of his life.  One of those is when he stirs something.  Making his coffee in the morning he has to stir it 40 times, counting to 20, twice.  Stirring a pitcher of tea, he has to stir it 100 times, again in increments of 20.  And that he has to do it with a butter knife. 

We were camping, and I was in the middle of cooking and needed the knife.  I couldn’t walk away from our stove long enough to find it, so I asked him to get up and get it.  I told him the food was starting to burn so I needed it right away.  Instead of bringing it to me, he went and gathered ingredients and started to make tea with his back to me.  It wasn’t a big deal, but I was annoyed and my son and I both kind of scoffed and I said “Um, I need that knife.”  His response to both of us, and mind you…my son is 10, “I know you are laughing at the stirring, and I’m going to tell you this making fun of me is going to stop.  I’ll make you sorry if you keep it up.” 

I said something along the lines of “I can’t believe you are threatening us.  No one was laughing at all, and no one has ever laughed at you about the stirring, unless you were making a joke about it yourself.  You are being paranoid, irrational, delusional and overly sensitive.  You keep imagining that we say or do things to offend you that aren’t happening at all.” 

Guess what it went right back to?  Yup, he KNEW we were laughing at the stirring, and he can’t handle it because of his PTSD.  Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut so I don’t bother his PTSD? 

O! M! G!

I should have just shut up...it wasn't the right time or place....but I was just so full of anger, irritation, and pain at this point it was going to come out.  I sent my son to go hang out with his brother and the other friends camping with us and then I told him what I thought.  I knew I had a captive audience, and I had the courage to speak my mind because I know that no matter how much he uses his PTSD as an excuse, he has enough control of himself that he never does anything that will embarrass him in front of others. (Which, I have to tell you is the only part of PTSD that I have ever resented…the only thing that really angers me.  Why have that respect for stranger, but not use that self-control with the people who love and care about you?  People you say you love and care about?) 

I said a lot of things that had been dancing around in my head for a while, but never as full thoughts, not that I think he actually "heard" any of them.  I said all the things I hadn’t had the courage to say before then.  I told him that I was sick of hearing the PTSD excuse, because there was never an “I’m trying” or and “I’m sorry” attached. I told him I understood he was ill, but if he wasn’t doing anything to try to get better it was as much his fault as was his problem. I also told him that the only noise he heard was our annoyance at him taking the knife after we said we needed it, and it was becoming typical of his behavior…putting what he wants to do in front of what anyone else is doing.  How it seemed as if he’d given up and he wasn’t going to try to be better, but rather use his PTSD as a valid reason to continue his behavior unchecked.  And I said I won’t live like that any longer and I won’t expose our children to it any longer. 

I said a lot of things that didn't pertain to the moment, but they still gushed out.  But I said it all calmly and rationally.  And that, for some reason, pisses him off even more than if I’m upset and crying or yelling.

The first thing he did was try to intimidate me again.  He stood behind me “bowed up” and started breathing heavy…just staring at the back of my head.  I turned around and told him to go sit down somewhere because although he didn’t scare me, he wasn’t going to stand there behind me looking like he did with our friends and their kids around to witness it.  Then he moved to a chair, doing the same thing, flexing his fists over and over and trying to stare me down. 

I don’t know what came over me this weekend.  Maybe enough was enough, maybe I had courage from the amount of people around, but I just looked at him and said “Look, if you are going to punch me or stab me or something, just do it…I’m sick of this.  I’m not afraid of you, I won’t live in fear.  I am not going to live like this anymore.  We are not going to live like this anymore.”  And his reply “You are on your own now.  You don’t have a clue to the level you are alone now.  Better start to get used to it.”  A typical threat, now days.

((Just to make something very clear, he’s never hit, smacked, pushed or touched us.  He does tell me that he has a hard time refraining from hitting me and that I’m going to “make him” someday.  I’ve never been afraid of him doing it though, and still am not.  Its part of what makes him so angry, I’m not intimidated by him, I’m just sick of hearing him.  I am also sure this sounds very abusive to many of you, but I tend not to take him seriously, so it really doesn't feel abusive to me.))

That was Saturday evening, and since then he’s only said the necessities to me.  He’s angry and pouting, and trying to take it out on me by ignoring me (another of his favorite tactics.) And here is where the reflection comes in again.  This is the history of every disagreement we’ve had for at least the last 6 months, maybe longer.  I’m just as angry with myself as I am with him over all of this.  HOW could I let this happen?  How could I let myself shut down to the needs and feelings of not only myself, but much more importantly, my children?  When did I allow PTSD to rule our family over everything else?  What kind of parent does that make me?

Wish I could end this on a more positive note, but the only positive about this (which is actually a big one) is that I’m finally aware of the truth of the situation.  I finally see what is really happening here.  I thought things were going better in our house, and that he was feeling better. He wasn’t breaking things as often.  He wasn’t screaming as often.  He wasn’t locking himself in the room for days at a time. Now I realize that what really happened is I gave in to his way to try to keep the peace. It wasn’t that he was doing better; it was that I wasn’t allowing anything to happen in my house that he could react to.  I was shutting us off from life.  I allowed us to lose our voices.

I won’t do it anymore.  I could say I was tired, worn out, stressed, etc., etc., etc…but then that is using the same kinds of excuses he is.  I have to start to fight for us again.  I have to do what I can to create a living environment where people are comfortable giving their opinions and expressing their feelings.  I'm not the victim here, I'm an active (or rather, inactive) participant in what is going on.

The truth is I don’t know where to start.  I’m looking for a new therapist for myself.  I’m going to call his therapist this afternoon.  But how do you start to stand up for yourself when you’ve allowed yourself to be walked on for so long?  How do you speak to someone who won’t listen?  How do you say anything when it could lead to violence in front of your children?  And I'm not sure how to really explain any of it to anyone, because re-reading this...I still think I may be making mountains out of mole hills.  I need help as much as I believe he does.

I’m at a point now many people thought I should have been at long ago.  I’m at the point of ultimatums.  It doesn’t matter that he is the love of my life. Either he starts doing the things he is supposed to be doing to help himself, or he is going to lose his family.  Because I realize now that although I don't think he's abusive, it's also not healthy.  I don’t expect miracles, I just expect him to put in the work and effort.  And that is the bottom line. 

Now, I just have to figure out in what place I can speak to him about this that everyone is safe, secure, and he is in a position where he has to hear me out.

I may sound desperate, or lost, or upset….but the truth is, I feel more aware and hopeful than I have in a long time....even if I am still unsure about it all.  For whatever reason I see the situation in a different light, and I know that I have choices to make.  I realize for the first time that I can’t make him do the things he needs to do to help his self.  And if he refuses to do those things on his own?

I realize that I not only can, but have an obligation, to do what is right for my children.  I realize now that we may be at a point where we can’t stay together as a family.  And I realize if I have to leave, I can do this now without guilt, because it wouldn’t be my choice.  It would be his.   

I think?