Last night he grabbed me hard by the throat. It still hurts today.
There are no quiet moments anymore. Every sound out of his mouth is a scream out of anger or anguish. His whole being fluctuates between rage and tears. Last night he cried for 30 minutes, “I miss my daddy, I miss my daddy.” A daddy who abandoned him in his teens and even when they made contact a year or so before the old man died, it was strained, to say the least. And when we knew the guy was going to die, I encouraged him to go see his father, to get some closure, but he declined.
I hate coming home now. I hate leaving work even though I have had enough of work. I know I will walk into a bad scene and goddamn if every night isn’t the same shit over and over again. He has taken to calling me “fat cunt” all the time, when in our 15 years previous he never refered to my size to insult me.
He shrieks (constantly), “You’re hurting me, you’re hurting me.” And I wonder why it’s me that is hurting him. As if it's not the fact that he drinks to the point of complete mental breakdown every day…to dull the pain of his reality. I have been the sounding board, the punching board and I am oh so bored with the whole scene. Perhaps the fact that I remain calm (usually, for as long as I can) is upsets him. He yells, threatens, breaks thing (we no longer have a TV in the bedroom) and balls his fist up to hit me square in the jaw—but he doesn’t. I guess I should be grateful.
He carries a huge burden. He did terrible things. He needs atonement, which I thought would come through therapy, but the therapy isn’t helping. He is a tortured soul who takes his misery out on me. He needs God’s forgiveness but neither of us believe in that kind of God.
I feel so cornered.