Ambushed

My husband called me late this afternoon to inform me that he will in fact be showing up this Friday morning as I had suspected when his father scheduled his visit for that day. And of course he dumped all kinds of ridiculous last minute plans for that day like a fishing trip and the movies for his father’s birthday. I’m like, dude…. this last minute planning needs to stop. He tells me that two days before is not the last minute. I tell him it is the last minute when you and the children are booked out a month ahead with med clinic and therapy appointments and this is why I have been complaining about last minute planning with you and your family for seven years now. You just don’t listen. Ever. I won’t even be home Thursday due to appointments.

I’m tired of them dumping the grand ass plans on me at the last second, expecting me to follow through, and getting upset with me when I can’t. It’s fucking bullshit. And this business of telling no one when exactly he was coming on leave until right now two days before he was showing up is also bullshit. He claims he told my brother, but I know for a fact that isn’t true because my brother asked me about it because my husband was going to stay at my brother’s house this time around. He also claims he told his father. So all those times his father had been calling over here nosing about, he supposedly knew.

I’m tired of his excuses and I said as much. He got pissed and told me to stop calling them excuses. He said they are his reasons. Really? Let’s look up the word shall we because damn it this is the pettiness in me that always comes out in our fights.

ex·cuse

verb
verb: excuse; 3rd person present: excuses; past tense: excused; past participle: excused; gerund or present participle: excusing
ikˈskyo͞oz/

  1. attempt to lessen the blame attaching to (a fault or offense); seek to defend or justify.
  2. release (someone) from a duty or requirement.

noun
noun: excuse; plural noun: excuses
ikˈskyo͞os/

  1. a reason or explanation put forward to defend or justify a fault or offense.
  2. (informal) a poor or inadequate example of.

Nope, I’m using the word correctly and I will not allow you to minimize any of the damage you have done. Past or present.

Sure enough he started dumping his “I care about you and I will get better” speeches. And I told him “You have been saying this for seven years and it has not gotten better.” He got angry and wanted to know when am I going to stop throwing the past in his face. I told him when he stops repeating it. It’s kind of hard to drop it when you keep doing it. “I haven’t cheated since the last time.” Dude that was the first of this month and you expect everything to be suddenly fine now?! You can’t just sweep that shit under the rug and pretend it never happened. The moment I let it go is the moment you do it again.

Fuck you and your so called caring. Fuck you and your “I joined the Army to do what was best for the family” card. Stop playing that damn card already. We were living with my parents at the time in a stable home environment while I was suffering from postpartum psychosis and you FUCKING BAILED on us. On me. Don’t tell me you did it so you could buy food. My dad has 100 acres of land to fucking grow food on. Still does asshole. None of us were starving. None of us were on the verge of homelessness. You didn’t HAVE to join the Army. You NEVER did. You didn’t NEED to join the Army. There were other options. You WANTED to. And so you did. You chose to ignore everything I said. You chose to ignore everything everyone said. You chose this. And you blamed me. For three years you blamed me, you threatened me, you tried to manipulate me, and you hurt me – all to get me to move down there with you knowing I couldn’t. You punished me for the choice you made. You lied about being threatened of getting fired and when I called the legal office you ripped me a new one saying you never told me that. I still have the email you sent me saying all that shit. Today you now claimed that you only told me that because your commanding officer lied to you because it would have made his job easier if I was down there and that you ripped me out because it got you into hot water when I called the legal office. I have news for you, you forget I grew up in the military and that my dad was a commanding officer by the time he retired. The spouses have no impact on the jobs of commanding officers dumb ass. You really expect me to believe that some how by me living down there would make his life easier? You got into hot water because you fucking lied and because I had called questioning about our legal rights, it triggered an internal investigation. Go fuck yourself with your bullshit.

I expect that since staying with my brother didn’t pan out because my brother has plans out of state now and he failed to properly plan ahead with my brother that he hopes to work shit out with me and stay with me. He wants to call me back at 11pm tonight. Fuck. My. Life. One more opportunity to be the bad guy. This shit is never going to end. Ever. Seriously a part of me wants to shut the ringer off the phone and not take the call, but I think he will then just corner me on Facebook. He claims he waited this entire time to tell me all this because he thought I wanted space. Yes I wanted emotional space but family and household logistics and responsibilities still need to be communicated and handled. This is just pure ambushing.

This is the worst timing ever too. I’m right in the middle of trying to get the portfolio done and he is disruptive as fuck. If last visit was any indication, he will be here every morning at the ass crack of dawn expecting us to be available to do shit and will linger until well after bed time. It’s little wonder all the boys destabilized to some extent during and after his visit – Little Bear being the worst. I seriously need to set up some hard boundaries this time around and force him to stick to them. There won’t be any winter storms this time around to trigger sympathies or heart strings to lend convenient excuses.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s