My Body and my Life is Falling to Bits
I sat tonight on the sofa and rubbed my feet, the skin is scaly and cracked like a desert deprived of vital fluids. So I have just spent half and hour soaking and rubbing pumice on my corny old claw like feet, to finally get them smooth. I may have to use the same technique on my face and my personality.
I hate getting old, but am slowly dealing with it.
I am sleeping too much again, like I did at Edinburgh Fringe, I swear to God, I slept through that whole festival except for appearing on stage. I felt terribly tried all the time. I am still on anti-biotics and those herbal tablets probiotics I took to prevent thrush are truly working as I don’t have to take steel wool to scratch my toosh.
Went to visit my dad tonight and as Ashley talked, I would finish her tales and talk over the top of her, I did this constantly and my dad laughed and said “Can Ashley finish her own sentences?”
So then I realised that I DID do that all the time. Ashley laughed when we spoke about it and said “Well God knows how I will have a conversation without you there to end it or break in and take over it, Dad has had to live with it for years, I can’t wait to meet people and finish a whole sentence on my own”
So it’s official that I am a nutter. Not only that, I really was a fucking screaming mad person last night. Now my husband and I have been through 25 years of mental, hateful hurtful and blissful marriage, and anyone who has read my autobiography will ask why I am still here in this house with him. I have to agree it has been rough but the past years have been relatively good and peaceful.
Yesterday I was very agitated and snippy with both him and Ashley, for no good reason. I can’t explain why, but everything annoyed me and I was ready to snap every time one of them asked me a simple question. I felt as though something was itchy under my skin and felt exasperated for no reason. You could say I was hormonal.
Now to explain, I have no real idea why I felt so agitated and fractious, but I was and that’s that. I was sitting reading Donny Osmond’s biography and totally absorbed in ‘Donny’ world and yet husband kept asking me insignificant questions repeatedly and that was beginning to grate. Eventually I screamed at him to ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP’. He walked out the room and went to bed, so I ran in to the bedroom in a mad rush, pulled my clothes off and slammed my fat body into bed. He knew I was angry because I tugged and pulled all the covers and told him to ‘get fucked’.
As if that wasn’t enough, I lay there and decided to pick a fight with him. He was so complacent about my ‘fight’ efforts and just lay there trying to reason with me. I was not happy with that and decided to dissect his entire life and pick on EVERYTHING he has EVER done to me, I mean I went back to 1979 in this section of the marital debate.
I was beginning to gather steam and my sharp venom was flowing like putrid bile in the direction of his stoic shadow when he simply reached over and lifted up his beaker of cold diluted orange juice and threw it over my head as I lay there on the bed! I was shocked and aghast at this! With that he got out of bed and walked into the living room, I jumped out of bed and ran into the living room, dripping and fuming. “I am sorry, but you were desperate for a reaction, so I gave you one” He spoke quietly. My husband has not lost his temper in years, and to be honest, he hadn’t in that moment either. I did, I screamed at him and spat orange and venom at him.
I dressed whilst drying myself off and walked out of the house as I heard Ashley shout “Have you fallen out over Donny Osmond?” I had no idea where I was going, realised I was thirsty (Quite ironic since I was covered in sticky cold juice) I walked to the local shops and bought some fizzy Irn Bru (Scottish popular fizzy drink). I came home and husband was pulling all the covers off the bed to wash them, he also had to take the curtains down, as they are above our bed they got some of the juice on them also. It occurred to me in that moment that if I fought with him in all the corners of the house and he threw juice at me he would have to wash all the windows and curtains in the entire flat!
He apologised again, but I ignored him, sat at the table, opened the Irn Bru and it exploded all over me, soaking me yet again! I must admit I did laugh. We sat and talked and I had to explain to him I was pushing for a fight and wanted him to argue and I have no real answer as to why, maybe I was bored or something. He was upset at throwing the juice over me and we went to bed, cuddled up.
I lay there in the dark after he fell asleep, I watched the shadows move across the ceiling as cars came into the car park, and the room smelt of fresh bedclothes, the familiar smell comforted me. I tried to work out why I was so difficult to be with and I quietly reckoned to myself that I did push him and did want him to ‘lose it’.
Maybe I miss the aggressive unpredictable man he used to be, or maybe I sometimes feel I deserve to be punished. I don’t know why I feel that, but I promised to myself to stop being horrible and as he slept he slowly edged his leg over my thigh and his big arm went over me and I felt him breath on my neck and hair. He woke slightly and whispered “don’t leave me”.
I won’t, as the next man will never put up with me._