Get Sick, Get Well, Hang Around The Inkwell


Today.  I've been busy with work much of the morning, but thoughts of this so called life are preoccupying.  Jenny announced two things last night:

1) She was going to sleep on the sectional to see if it helps with her back.  For those of you playing the home game, I moved to the living room sofa well before the sectional was  delivered in late October. I have slept on the sectional since we swapped out the couch. Sleeping in the same bed with a cheating spouse isn't tenable for me.  Also, I am trying to uncouple. Given her recent attempt to attempt suicide, I moved back home, not wanting to risk her following through without me intervening to stop it, and not wanting my kids to discover her lifeless body if she carried out her plan.  And yes, she told me that day she had a plan, and yes she told that to my sister--in-law Judy.  And yes, she now denies she was ever suicidal.  And, finally yes, Leiney was there that morning and remembers Jenny's suicidal ideation. So now, I have to figure out where to sleep, because this will be every night until a new bed comes.  I don't want to sleep on the bed, so I guess it's the sofa for me.  Why do events seem to conspire to push us closer together in physical proximity?

2) Jenny said she was going to spend the day with A.  She left just before 9.  She called me at 10:48 to tell me she was in Federal Way at Michael's buying stuff for shrinky-dinks. It doesn't take an hour and 48 minutes to drive from Ravenna to Federal Way, just as it doesn't take a weather man to know which way the wind blows.  

Tonight we have couples therapy.  Again, it isn't to fix this. I have been explicit about this in therapy over and again.  I mean it.  But, for some reason, my heart is broken whenever she is with Eric the pinché motherfucker. I am debating what to say about this, if anything, in therapy.  She is a lying liar who lies, gaslights, obfuscates and dissembles.  I ache all over.


 

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