Monday, May 13, 2013

Moving out, I guess

Wife had a major explosive rage last night.  She accused me of starving her to the point of malnutrition and otherwise abusing her, plus a bunch of other things I don’t even remember because they made even less sense.  (Ironically I have been home as little as possible in the last few weeks, so I’m not quite sure what she thought I had done.)  She insisted that I “have no idea how much [she] can get out of” me by claiming to be an abused wife.  She shouted at me like this for some time, frequently six inches from my face.  At one point, to punctuate her remarks, she threw a full glass of wine in my face.  Then, not content that she had made her point (whatever that point was), she took a full bottle of Ensure she had gotten from the fridge for her dinner and emptied it over my head. 

I said very little during this – that is, I started by trying to bring her back to rational reality, but soon realized that I wasn’t getting very far.  I kept my voice very low and even.  Several times I suggested that what she was saying was an opinion but that I saw things differently; I said nothing which contradicted her more directly than that, though, and just hoped that the fit would blow over soon.  Oh … I did succeed in persuading her to mop up the Ensure which had spilled onto the countertop and the floor.  I didn’t bother mentioning the stuff that was in my hair or shirt, figuring I would deal with that later.  The only time I touched her at all was when she picked up her wine glass to refill it.  I told her I thought she had had enough and took her hand to get her to set down the wine glass.  When she resisted I let go: so sure enough she refilled it and took it with her.  (Fortunately she did not decide to throw that one too.)

Finally she wound down.  She took her night-time medications (or some of them) and her wine glass and went to the boys’ bedroom, where she has been sleeping since they are not home.  I don’t know if she went to sleep or not.  She left the light on, but closed the door most of the way.  I texted Debbie to see if there was any way she could put me up for the night, and fortunately got the answer Yes.  So I grabbed a new shirt and a pair of socks – and my briefcase (for work in the morning) – and left.  When I got to her apartment I first took a shower (to get all the Ensure out of my hair) and then slept.

I am writing this now from work.  Talking it over with Debbie this morning, I realize it would make no sense at all for me to go back home.  Wife has done things like this before, as you know, and I have always managed the situation and stuck it out.  And in fact while it was happening last night I was thinking “How unusual – she hasn’t done this sort of thing since her medications were stabilized a few years ago.”  But come to think of it, that’s not true.  There was the time last October when we were over at my parents’ house that she was so disagreeable for an hour and then slapped me and stormed out.  There have been other storms of other sorts.  I guess I have just papered over them in my mind, … I don’t know, maybe I just figured they were normal, so what was the big deal?  But that doesn’t make them OK.  And it doesn’t mean I have to live like that any more.

I’m not sure where I’ll go.  I can’t just stay with Debbie.  On the one hand it would hardly be fair to dump my problems in her lap for her to fix.  On the other hand she is starting to have second thoughts about the relationship – not about loving me (which she still does), but just about our actually fucking while I am still this early in the process of disentangling from Wife.  So I assume I’ll get a motel for a night or two while looking for a room to rent.  And of course I’ll have to go back to the house several times: for clothes, for other basic stuff.  A full-scale move-out will be a big deal and take a while.

Just to let you know the latest status ….

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