Well, life is hectic, what else is new?
How about the fact my temp-to-hire job had a meeting today that included goals with a ‘due date’ of mid July. That was promising, seeing as I am too pathetic to bring the topic of “Are you going to keep me or not” up.
I’m obsessed with skinny jeans lately. Probably because I bought some on a whim for $3 in the clearance section at Wal-Mart. Red skinny jeans. I put them on the next day, May 11th to be exact, and they didn’t look terrible. In fact, I thought they looked better than some of the pants I wear on a regular basis. I bought a cream colored cut-out lace half-sleeve sweater to wear with it.
My husband got wasted and we got into a huge fight which resulted in him acting insane and saying he was going to rip my head off. Some of you know all about my relationship experience with my ex-husband, so naturally I was quite terrified, seeing as I truly believed my current husband would just do the same thing. He was drunk enough and angry enough. So I left. I ended up driving around trying to find an affordable hotel until nearly 2 a.m. After buying snacks, food, a change of clothes for everyone, diapers, wipes, and gas, I headed back home. No husband in sight, so I brought the kids inside to bed. I couldn’t stop spazzing out until around 4 a.m., and my husband started calling me and saying things like, “You’re a twisted bitch,” and “F*** you, c*nt,” to me, to the point where I could not sleep and ended up calling the police on him. Again. I’d called earlier when he took off in my van and was drunk-driving and slamming on his brakes all over our neighborhood. I had hit the OnStar emergency button and reported him. They dispatched to local police, and my husband continued to drive erratically — in front of police. At 5 a.m. he came home, and was acting normal. Which of course pissed me off even more, and I tried to go back to sleep. No such luck, and I was up until it was time to wake up and get ready for the day. I am still tired from that.
He’s been a bit nicer, but I don’t give a hoot. I’m not going to live like that. I refuse to live in fear of my own husband. Effffff that! Been there, done that, not going back and doing it again. I refuse. So, every time he’s threatened me, yelled at me, or called me names since then, I’ve said, “You are not going to talk to me like that,” gathered my things, and left.
Soon we will come to a point in time where I get all three kids in the car, leave, and never come back. I wonder what he’ll think then.