I haven't spoken to Rigid for two days. I can't seem to bring myself to do it and I'm going to tell you why. I had my apartment painted just before Thanksgiving Day last year. They were supposed to install a new carpet and new flooring in the kitchen the next month, but never did. I waited and waited until I just couldn't take it anymore. Half of my belongings were still in the garage, nothing has been put back on the walls and the place looked a mess so I decided to take a week off and have them install the blinds, closet doors, carpet and floors.
Just before Christmas Rigid was counting down my days to ovulation. He wants a baby and yeah, so do I, but not this minute. Still, everyday he hands me my prenatals and I take them. I've been making an enormous effort to cut down my smoking habit going from 10 or more cigarettes a day to 4 or less a day and I have to admit, I'm damned proud of myself. I'm still on Adderall to get through my daily schedule and get me through these next two exams, but the current dosage I'm on isn't doing shit for me and in order for me to get through my day I have to hop myself up on caffeine or monster neither of which are good if you'd like to conceive in the near future.
I don't want to up the dosage for fear that what we're doing will actually work and I'll end up pregnant, though I truly have no hope of it happening without serious help so I'm not too worried. By the time I'm serious about trying I'll be smoke, caffeine and adderall free so if it's meant to be it's meant to be.
Still, no matter what you tell yourself, what your plans may be or what you're going through at the time you can't help but wonder, especially when you're going through such lengths to get to keep track of your cycle and get healthy, 'could I be???' And so the week before last when I was cramping, getting nauseous at every smell and feeling faint I started to really wonder so I cut the smoking down even more. I was down to two a day on most days with very little side effect. Yeah, I felt a little sick, yeah I got a few mood swings, but nothing too horrible. I didn't feel like killing anyone or myself for that matter. Still the cramping worried me and I knew it wasn't going to take so in an effort to forget my troubles I decided to take a week off and finally get things down around my apartment.
The cramping got worse that week, but I kept on. I gamed a lot because I finally got my xbox back (a new 2008 model), the cramping got so bad I had to take the vibrate off the controls and eventually my back began to slowly cramp as well. I sat on the couch the night of the 13th and thought, "This is it, I'm losing it. It's not going to happen." I just gamed and gamed to forget. I was getting one kill after the next actually keeping up with all the boys on my team. Sometimes even beating Rigid by several points. Suddenly around midnight one of our friends said, "Hey, Happy Valentines Day!" and everyone else said it as well. I was confused, my head was throbbing and my ovaries were kicking my vagina, and Rigid said, "Yeah, Happy Valentines Day honey!"
After they explained that it was midnight and therefore now Valentines Day we continued to game, I was a little confused because I've never heard a bunch of hairy ass men playing video games scream out Happy Valentines Day at the stroke of midnight, but hey... there are more girl gamers out there on Xbox Live than there was 4 years ago so anything could happen right? Less than two hours later it happened and I refused to feel sorry for myself. I tried to rub the pain out of my tummy and hoped it wouldn't get any worse because tomorrow was going to be a long day and the rest of the week looked glum.
The next day we, let me correct myself here, HE moved the furniture from the kitchen to the living room to let the floor guy do his stuff. Half the time I was doubling over in pain and trying not to panic. The pain I felt was intense and I felt completely off so Rigid didn't let me help him at all, he wouldn't even let me move a single pot, but I refused to stand still and I just stuck to the light stuff. We fought a few times. Most of the week he kept going on about the carpet and floor people refusing to help move a single piece of furniture. How was he going to more the refrigerator or stove? Who was going to turn the gas off? That I would have to help him move the washing machine. Little things like that. I would ignore him most of the time, I mean, didn't Bridget tell us several times that they move the appliances we just worry about the furniture? I wasn't sure anymore, Rigid had my head spinning. I couldn't take it anymore and screamed at him to call Bridget to verify. I was right of course and when the guy game to do the floors he took care of everything while Rigid and I played some more Call of Duty.
I was relieved, but still in quite a lot of pain and when Rigid asked me for a cup of water the searing pain that coursed through my entire spine all the way down my leg nearly sat me back down. I groaned and though I thought I was muted everyone in the room heard me. I grabbed a glass of water after taking the headset off and shuffled my way to the room. I could barely move my leg. Rigid got up and held me at the door and I began to cry and panic. I'd never felt pain like that and I didn't know what it was. I want to describe every last detail, every single drop of blood, every bit of mass that ejected itself from me shortly after that, but I think I'd even make myself sick and quite frankly I don't think you have the stomach for it. As unusual as all this may have been I didn't skip a beat and just kicked my feet up, drank plenty of fluids, and gamed to my hearts content. We even had lunch from Burger King. A late lunch, but I don't know I think anyone who ate around 3pm would call that a late lunch right? You'll see my point in a minute, be patient.
We went out around 5pm in search of a thermometer. Because the flow was much faster than usual, the pinching pain different and the terrible back and leg pain nearly crippling I thought I should keep track of my temperature just in case I ended up having to go to the hospital. Of course, Rigid over drafted the primary account so I had to go because we could only use my card. It was fine, I walked slowly like a reject all over the store but found a thermometer. I then decided to walk around for a bit, maybe it would help with the pain. As we rounded a corner at Kmart the lane was stacked full of Valentines day chocolate boxes and candies. The holiday card section a blur of red, white and pink hearts and roses. Suddenly just as a lonley bitterness began to settle over me Rigid said, "Look honey, do you want some chocolates for Valentines Day?" I felt all the nerve endings in my brain collectively scream 'ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?' Axons misfired at once and I just stared at the boxes and said, "No, that's fucking retarded dude. Like I'm really going to say, 'Yeah, buy me a box of chocolates ON Valentines Day with my own money.' And walked away thinking, ‘ Fucking anus.’
We went to another store because I wanted to get him a special beer and I needed an excuse to walk around some more. When we were ready to go home and were on our way our of the parking lot suddenly it occurred to me that it was 7pm and we hadn't had dinner. I asked Rigid when he wanted to get dinner started and he responded by telling me we already had dinner you could easily say I was a little shocked.
"What do you mean we had dinner? When?" I said.
"Earlier, I mean it was an early dinner, but I thought that was dinner. You know, because we ate it really late." he said.
"Wait, so Burger King was dinner? You're telling me I had half a BK Big Fish for dinner?" I asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah. We ate it around five...I'm sorry, I just thought that was dinner and I didn't have plans to cook anything."
"On Valentines Day? Really? I had a BK Big Fish for Valentines Day? Holy." I said thinking of the steak I had defrosted for the occasion, the champagne he could easily have popped open, the wine we could have sipped on with dinner and the evening that was never going to happen because I had obviously expected too much. Still, for some reason I thought, he's joking. He's messing with me. He's got to be.
We got home and he jumped on COD4 after helping me take my temperature, he entered his friends room and started a game with them so fast it nearly made my head spin. I felt slighted, resigned, bitter and felt my blood slowly simmer. I signed on and waited for an invite to the following game. My stomach growled, but I simply ignored it refusing to make dinner for myself when I'm on vacation, not feeling well and it was Valentines Day. He should have done something, should have taken out a bottle of wine, plucked a neighbors flower, written something down on a piece of paper ANYTHING.... anything at all is better than nothing, but for some reason he supposed screaming out "Happy Valentines Day" from the other room was enough. Maybe he came out at some point and gave me a kiss...I can't remember. I can't remember anything. I just remember the pain I was in and why I was in that much pain. The emptiness and bitterness churned inside me like a painful boil growing on your skin ready to burst with a disgusting and fowl smelling fluid, but I hadn't forgotten what he'd told me a week prior.
"Honey, I'm not getting paid until Friday so I'm not going to be able to do much for Valentines Day this year, but on Saturday we can okay? Can I take you out to dinner or something on Saturday?" he asked his expression depicting sincere concern for my thoughts on the matter.
"Oh, it's okay, you know I don't expect much. It's no big deal. It's not like I really expect pearls or diamonds or anything... A card is nice. If you get chocolates though don't get me yucky ones. I don't like yucky chocolates...nuts! I like them with nuts. But I don't care if you don't get chocolates. I'm not big on chocolates anyway." I babbled on about it for a bit. Like a dummy, of course I distinctly remember saying that I didn't care if we didn't go out or do anything so long as it was on Valentines day. There's no point for me if I celebrate a holiday on a day other than the day it falls on. That's like celebrating your anniversary on a day other than your anniversary date or your birthday a month earlier because it falls on a holiday. It's just not the same is it? I don't expect much, but I do expect something. I mean how could you not? My whole life I was taken care of on every single holiday. Is that wrong? Is it spoiled of me to ask that my husband take the time to pamper me? To shower me with presents, buy me chocolates and a $10 Hallmark card attached to a giant teddy bear holding a heart in it's arms? No wait... what the fuck am I talking about? I didn't ask for that did I? I didn't ask for anything.
The only thing I asked for was something nice ON Valentines Day. That's all. And I know what you're thinking... Your thinking, 'What the fuck does something nice mean?' I'll tell you the same thing I told Rigid when he asked. A hand written note, a self written poem, a single rose, a home cooked meal, a glass of wine or champagne, a single dance in our living room to our wedding song.... in short (or rather long) a single nice gesture, an acknowledgement that I'm still the most important person in his life. Something simple and romantic, something kind. It never happened, and I mentioned it that evening. I even complained about it to Aerogal and everyone else we were playing with and they were shocked to hear that I got nothing. I can't remember Rigids response, but I think he took it as a joke and didn't hear the genuine shock in Aero's voice. I think it takes a girl to understand though even the other boys in the room were surprised.
I complained Friday night when he obviously had no plans to make it up to me. He was getting ready to go to work the next day all day and had to help me move the two bedrooms to the kitchen and living room so they could install the carpet the next day. He bitched, moaned and complained the entire time and eventually I just snapped. I pleaded with him to please help relieve some of the burden on my shoulders, to please not overdraft the account, to please pay the rent on time so I don't get late fee's (the only bill he's responsible for) and please help me move all of the furniture so that tomorrow when the carpet guys got there all I would have to worry about would be the cats. I even viciously blamed him for my inability to conceive by suggesting that if he didn't put that kind of pressure on me maybe, just maybe it would happen which is truly ridiculous. He caught me in my attempt and pointed out to me how horrible that was, but I'm too good. I should be a Republican, because the fucking spin I put on my argument was brilliant and I still came out shining like I did nothing wrong. Like I didn't say what I said, and he took it all wrong...and who does he think he is? I could almost hear the cogs in his head slowly spinning, 'Yeah, who do I think I am?'
Throw the Valentines Day that never was in the mix and you have one of the best meltdowns in the history of Maha's Misadventures. I even bruised my own ovary when I poked myself in the belly to make my point. It's still there... I should take a picture. In the end we were okay, he held me, I took a pill, drank some water and he just stroked my head and gave me kisses. The next day I was left to deal with the carpet guys, the cat and the furniture. I was supposed to wait for him to come home, but he wasn't getting home until 9pm and the carpet guys finished by 12pm so I just did it all myself. I felt great having just had half a monster with breakfast. That day, I connected my PC to the Media Center on my Xbox, did 5 loads of laundry, put all the furniture back into the two bedrooms including my giant ass California King, played a little COD4 and had Rigid's meal cooking so that when he got home he could play a couple of games with us and have dinner shortly after in a nice clean apartment.
So Sunday when I asked him to help me put our belongings back where they go or the decorations back on the wall and all he was able to do was bitch and complain asking me why the fuck I was going through so many boxes at once I didn't know what to do. He was sneezing and turning red and saying I .... I was kicking up too much dust because I was going through too many boxes at once. What? So instead of fighting with him I asked him to please help me with the laundry and the dishes. Just to get him out of my hair you see, but he couldn't even do that. He fell asleep, my fault because I took 30 minutes out of my day to do a slide show of my nephew's birthday pictures on my new computer. Did I fail to mention I had to buy a new computer because mine broke down that week? It was a fabulous vacation...
I let him sleep for another 15-20 minutes, but I was getting anxious. I wanted to have the house nice and clean before dinner time. The steak was still waiting for us and if he wasn't going to do something than I will! I woke him up and he apologized and said he wasn't feeling well. He didn't have a fever and nothing was wrong other than a lot of sneezing so I told him to open the windows that it would help with the crap in the air. No, couldn't do that because it was cold see. The carpet guys turned off the pilot. Woh. My head was spinning because Rigid was killing me and so were my sinuses. Yeah, we just had new carpeting installed... there's going to be crap in the air. I tried to get him out of the house to pay Pumpo the money he owed him, I tried to tell him to take a walk to get some fresh air, but no he couldn't do that either.
I did a lot of screaming that day and he couldn't figure out what my problem was. Kept saying there was something wrong with me, maybe I needed caffeine or another cigarette. I couldn't believe the fucking audacity this guy had so I just shut the hell up, had him put the laundry away and left him to do the dishes and put everything else away on my own. That night I stopped speaking to him. He was going to work all day again the next day and it was basically our last day to be together in peace in our nice clean apartment...but he had the sniffles and needed over 12 hours of sleep. That night I went to bed alone, in the spare room and still he couldn't figure out why.
I love this line, "Tell me what's wrong? Why won't you talk to me? Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" over and over and over again. I just cried. There's nothing else I can do, I cry feeling bitter and resentful and hurt and I don't care if I'm wrong. I really don't care if I'm wrong and you wanna know why? Because when my cervix was shedding everything I had inside me, when shit was coming out that wasn't supposed to be coming out as fast as it did and I was doubling over in pain, woozy, dizzy and nauseous I didn't stop trying to help him move the shit loads of furniture he basically moved on his own. Yeah, I was probably in the way a lot, yeah I probably got on his nerves, but I NEVER STOPPED TRYING TO HELP and I DID help. I actually did move crap, sometimes feeling like I was going to shit out my ovaries and yet he couldn't fucking help me put away the last bits of stuff, couldn't get the rest of the boxes that I asked for in the garage (that are still in the garage by the way), couldn't clean without having to be told because he had the sniffles and needed a nap. Fuck that god damn it... and WHY? Why does he have that attitude? Because.... I CAN'T EVEN SAY WHY!!! I'm not even allowed to say why and I fucking know why...I know my husband and now I'm not making any god damned sense to anyone, but I TOTALLY understand why now.
So yesterday I ignored every single empty little phone call he made. I ignored every sorry attempt to ask me how I was feeling. Not apologizing for anything, not accepting blame because he doesn't feel at fault, he doesn't think he did anything wrong. No, just checking in to see what I'm up to or how I'm feeling. How kind. I couldn't speak to him. Every single time the phone rang I hoped it was him, but the fact that I heard absolutely nothing in his voice that could give me an indication that he felt bad, that he was confused and didn't understand. Nothing, just what seemed to me like feigned concern. The house was clean, and I had taken more things out of the garage to put away, there's still so much to do and I'm going to have to do it on my own on top of manage to study, pay the bills and ... so many other things. His dinner was ready when he got home from work and though I said, but three words to him the entire night it was a pleasant enough dinner and prepared the steak as I was planning on for Valentines Day. He enjoyed it quietly asking me questions here and there that I either ignored or acknowledged with a nod.
I don't know why I can't speak to him. I don't know why I can't just tell him exactly what's on my mind. I've never had a problem doing so before and I just don't understand. Am I finally tired? Have I had enough? Is it time? Or am I just going though another episode of mood swings? Could this be the precursor to the violent mood swings to come? I don't have the answers yet, but right now I'm really proud of myself.
I slept alone again last night, he was surprised and angry but said nothing more to me. He simply put out my light. I fell asleep and woke up to a blindingly painful headache 15 minutes later. I closed my eyes again and tried not to think of him. Tried not to feel him breathing lightly on my neck, tried not to see his chest rise and fall in my minds eye with each breath, I tried not to dream of him.
It didn't work, so I tried not to cry for him.
I tried not to cry for something I didn't get, have or desperately want because in the end I know he loves me. In his own way, but he does. I know it... Right now I just don't feel it and... that small thought, that little sliver of a thought that's sliding it's way around my brain and strangling my heart, that alone is enough to make me want to die a little.
Just a little everyday..
Tuna Tip: In an effort to make myself feel a little better I'll tell you something. The next time you find yourself with nothing but lint in your pocket take the time to think on Valentines Day on ANY day. Search your heart and mind and THINK. If your girl is like me, she'd appreciate a walk in the park, the beach or a simple picnic that YOU took the time to pack yourself.
She appreciate a hand written note decorated by you even if it was just done in pencil and your handwriting is as sloppy as a 5 year old child. She'd appreciate a little toy out of a toy dispenser that costs .25 cents. A poem, a dance in her living room, a glass of champagne that's currently sitting in your bar.
Anything, anything at all is better than an empty promise. And NEVER, NEVER EVER give a promise if there's a chance that you can't keep it because we may act like it doesn't hurt, but it does. It really does.
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