How Does Everyone Live This Way?

And by ‘live this way’ I mean deal with human emotions all the time. Is there a way I can go back to being repressed? -sulks-

This goes beyond the anger I have felt. I literally hate my husband. I wish he was dead.

It’s slowly sinking in that he deliberately tormented me with sleep deprivation for years because he was upset over interactions we had – that he wrecked my mental health in the process – and that when I was desperate for things to improve so I could keep myself out of the mental hospital or the morgue, he deliberately tried to gaslight me and exert more and more control over me, to the point he wouldn’t even let me have the privacy of my thoughts and emotions.

I only ever wanted the best for him. For him to be happy. I sacrificed what I wanted to do and how I wanted to live so that he could pursue life how he wanted it, and not only are there no thanks for that, he believes I owed him that because ‘we were married.’

There’s no getting through to him. No way to get him to acknowledge or accept responsibility for what he did. No way to spark a desire for restitution. He simply continues to try to exert control in whatever flailing way he can manage.

My lawyer spoke with his lawyer, and got the concession that I was allowed to add items to the grocery list. That doesn’t put gas in my car. I’ve got $57 in the joint account. Mediation isn’t until the end of April. He tried to claim I was supposed to be at the kids’ therapy appointments and wasn’t going. That’s complete horse shit. We aren’t part of their sessions. We sit in the lobby with the kids that aren’t having their session. (Last time I went, he was mad because I drove separately and he was expecting me to be a passenger in his vehicle.)

So, I texted him. Told him if the therapist needed me to sit in on a session, or wanted to speak to me in person that she could call me, as she already had my phone number. That if he was going to be busy to let me know and I’d rearrange my schedule and go with them instead.

He sulkily responded that he’d already told me about the appointments, as if telling me about an appointment constitutes some kind of legally binding responsibility to be there.

I was pretty proud of my response.

“Unless Dr. [redacted] asks for me to be present in a session, or calls to request to speak to me in person, only one of us needs to provide company in the lobby for the children still waiting on their session. If you want me to take alternate sessions, or take over transportation for all sessions, we can discuss those arrangements.”

He’s had nothing further to say so far. I’m sure he’ll come up with something, though, and that it will be unpleasant and obnoxious and a naked attempt at regaining control of me.

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