Headache Inducing
I think me and Nick had the worst fight ever today. It turns out that we can't file the paperwork that I spent so long filling out last night because according to the wanky US Government, Nick doesn't make enough money to support himself, me or Abby. Supposedly, the poverty line for us $18,000. Who the fuck makes that kind of money that has a family? Seriously. Nick busts his ass at work, seven days a week and eight hours a day and this is the fucking thanks he gets. I called my MIL to break the bad news to her, and she's all like "well, I'm calling the immigration lawyer, because this is just shit". Hah. My MIL knows lots of the right people. It's awesome :D Hopefully we'll get the shit sorted. I'll keep you posted.
So anyway, I feel like shit this evening because Nick yelled at me for about an hour and I (as usual) got shit scared, cried, had an asthma attack and started scratching myself. This scratching thing I do is bizarre. For those of you who don't know, I used to cut myself for about a good ten years and I really felt as though I needed to do it again...but I was really strong...REALLY STRONG. So when I get horribly frustrated and angry, I scratch myself to a point where I bleed. I don't do it to see my own blood again, I just do it because it's weirdly comforting. Nick tries to stop me, but I need to do something with my hands otherwise I'm just going to lash out an hit somebody or throw something. And this argument all stemmed from the fact that we technically fall below the poverty line. I said that I couldn't handle this anymore because I felt like I wanted to kill myself so I'd stop all this shit that I cause Nick and Abby...and of course...Nick couldn't handle that. So then I said that I was just going to pack my bags and leave. Without him or Abby. I was just going to dissapear and do a Richey. Then he wouldn't go to work because he was terrified that I wouldn't be here when he got home. Eventually, he went off to work and left me alone with my book and I read two chapters in a sitting. I feel absolutely exhausted, but I honestly cannot sleep. I'm just way too tightly wound and I can't stop thinking what a great shitbag I am to everyone around me. So I figure that I'm just going to make some coffee and finish my book this evening. I'm not going to expect any sort of sleep pattern tonight...just the usual crying bouts and beating myself up over it all.
Mercia just came to sit by me. She can always tell when I'm not happy. I call her 'my fuzzy angel'. She's always there for me, unlike my husband..who openly admitted tonight that my feelings come last on the totem pole and that he no longer cares how I feel. And this is supposed to be a marriage. Whatever. Maybe I would have been better off as the crazy cat lady with a houseful of felines. Meow :p
So anyway, I feel like shit this evening because Nick yelled at me for about an hour and I (as usual) got shit scared, cried, had an asthma attack and started scratching myself. This scratching thing I do is bizarre. For those of you who don't know, I used to cut myself for about a good ten years and I really felt as though I needed to do it again...but I was really strong...REALLY STRONG. So when I get horribly frustrated and angry, I scratch myself to a point where I bleed. I don't do it to see my own blood again, I just do it because it's weirdly comforting. Nick tries to stop me, but I need to do something with my hands otherwise I'm just going to lash out an hit somebody or throw something. And this argument all stemmed from the fact that we technically fall below the poverty line. I said that I couldn't handle this anymore because I felt like I wanted to kill myself so I'd stop all this shit that I cause Nick and Abby...and of course...Nick couldn't handle that. So then I said that I was just going to pack my bags and leave. Without him or Abby. I was just going to dissapear and do a Richey. Then he wouldn't go to work because he was terrified that I wouldn't be here when he got home. Eventually, he went off to work and left me alone with my book and I read two chapters in a sitting. I feel absolutely exhausted, but I honestly cannot sleep. I'm just way too tightly wound and I can't stop thinking what a great shitbag I am to everyone around me. So I figure that I'm just going to make some coffee and finish my book this evening. I'm not going to expect any sort of sleep pattern tonight...just the usual crying bouts and beating myself up over it all.
Mercia just came to sit by me. She can always tell when I'm not happy. I call her 'my fuzzy angel'. She's always there for me, unlike my husband..who openly admitted tonight that my feelings come last on the totem pole and that he no longer cares how I feel. And this is supposed to be a marriage. Whatever. Maybe I would have been better off as the crazy cat lady with a houseful of felines. Meow :p