Michael took the car keys away so I continue to be locked up in this German Village nut hut. I want to scream. I am not an angry bipolar by nature, but I am simmering right now and worried I might implode. I have no freedom whatsoever. Even the Giant Eagle runs are a joke. Hell, my entire surroundings are one big fat joke.
I'm not going to lift one finger to clean up around here. I'm that pissed off. The whole house can fall apart -- just like my life. I hate it here, I hate Columbus, I hate "the game," I hate the Puppet Master. No one gives a shit about me and all of my suffering. I just have to do what I'm ordered to do and "play nice" along the way.
I start "roaming" if I feel trapped. And that's what I am: a rat in a cage. This town disgusts me. The people here disgust me. My husband disgusts me. He thinks he is smarter than I am; he treats me like shit; he has no understanding of how hard I have been fighting my disorder and attempting to lead a quasi-normal life. There is no trust and respect in this marriage.
This is the juncture where I start seriously looking at our marriage and wondering if we can make it. I have a lot of repressed anger and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind he was a major factor in the 2011 mania. What positive things is he doing to make me happy? He tells me he is going through a tough time with my current illness -- what the hell about me?? I'm the one living with the anxiety attacks and visions and paranoia. I'm the one not sleeping at night. I'm the one that has no choice but to be sober. Does he forget how hard that is?!
I'm in a tar pit today. I feel like I'm covered in the thick, stinky goo. I can't move and the stench is overwhelming. I hate it here. I want out.
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