This right here sums up exactly how I’m feeling at the moment. The whole avoid stress during this time of change and anticipation didn’t work out so well. If anything the stress has increased since we got our ‘good’ news and have been able to move on to the planning and DOING stage.
It feels like Mr. Mango and I just lost all ability to communicate with anything more than sarcastic remarks or quiet muttering while walking away (I’ll let you take a stab at who uses what method). It’s like our own little tower of Babel; we started the project in unison moving forward understanding each other. Now we can’t even speak the same language.
What the fuck.
I mean its not like I don’t know I’m partially to blame. I get easily frustrated when explaining the math or the data to him still leaves him confused. Maybe it’s because I have to dumb down everything 90% of the time for 3 kids under 10, sometimes I want to talk to an adult like an adult. Not have to step by step explain how to figure out percentages, angles or follow indexes in building codes. My fuse is short when he can’t easily catch on. It’s not fair, but neither is his expecting me to just “wing it and trust him” after our plumbing adventure (ahem disaster) last year.
He had the audacity to snip at me the other day that because I didn’t want to call our hydro company about any underground lines on our property or walk (in the rain) to the town office that he felt like he was doing all the work around here.
On the outside I was quietly concentrating on not laser-glaring his ass into oblivion. On the inside I was screaming. That’s when I knew we were on the path to a shitstorm. It was only a matter of time.
And I’m still waiting. I think he think I’m just anxious about the changes around here. Or PMSing or something. Really even I’m surprised at how dense he is right now. Going between one minute yelling about some random small problem (“Where are my fucking keys?” “Oh there they are underneath my hat.”) to ‘sweetly’ grabbing my ass and asking me if I want a massage then some nookie. Ok, maybe he’s the one PMSing?
I don’t know how long I’ll be waiting for the storm to start, but I know it’s coming. Eventually I’ll be done bottling shit up and my restraint will snap away. I know he’ll get defensive and throw around things like my anxiety around calling strangers or the fact that I want my dad to help with some of the plans, or the fact that he’s at work all day and my time spent at home just doesn’t count the same way.
The calm before the storm is honestly worse than being stuck in the middle of one. I feel like I need to escape (not like it would help, but maybe it would just help me hold on to my wits and my composure one day longer). At the same time maybe just point blank asking him what his fucking problem is could get the ball rolling and get it over with. We’ll just have to see which path this miserable, mucky, cloudy piece of shit day decides to turn down.
For now though…
Pretty much sums it all up.