What's the point of it all???

I am relieved I decided not to hang myself under a tree. Theresa is happy that I'm alive so that the bills will keep getting paid and she won't lose her car. That was her biggest concern when I came back home last Thursday.

My anxiety attacks have gotten worse. Much worse. Not knowing when the next verbal bitchslapping will come my way is extremely unnerving. Whatever backbone I had is now gone.

I know that it's stupid that my greatest concern is the emotional well-being of a cat. (well, it doesn't feel stupid to me. whatever)  Loonie is always glad when I come home, he enjoys playing silly games with me, he loves curling up with me when we go to sleep. He has no concern about my income, just that I love him. (and feed him, clean the litterbox, etc.) Love, affection. I desperately need that, probably more than he does right now. That he will never hurt me with angry words is also critical to my sanity.

I know you love me, Theresa, in your own way. That you're still going through hell from the surgery troubles me, your recovery should be faster than this. I hate that you suffer so much. But knowing you won't stop hurting me with screaming and cruel, false accusations regardless of how much I do for you, how good I am to you makes it all seem so pointless. I know that's not an excuse for me to get snappy, but my nervousness and stress is wreaking havoc on my brain.  When a man slaps his wife, does the reason for his violence matter? That he's in a lot of pain, irritable, angry? It doesn't matter to her, the violence will still cause pain.

I've asked you several times to please have respect for me, to not strike out at me. You got offended every time. You accused me of wanting to start a fight every time. I explain that when Jesus commanded for us to do to others as we want them to do to us, he never made any exceptions. Your response was to have a crying tantrum, call Rick to come over to console you because I'm being mean towards you. I think I see a pattern here.

After four years, I'm feeling dead inside. Maybe I am. I can't see myself able to cope with the stress of going back to college. I don't even care about pursuing what I used to be passionate about, what could give my life real meaning. I don't care anymore. Maybe suicide would be redundant?

And yes, I know the house looks terrible, I need to clean it. You keep reminding me. I get it!!!

I am glad you won't need to move to a cheaper apartment. Or lose your car. That would be awful.