I’m so disappointed in my husband. Supremely disappointed. Words can’t even express it.
Because I got home tonight, and after not seeing him all week, he made me feel 2 inches big.
The kicker? It wasn’t even valid, nor my fault in the slightest. It was all on him.
So why am I wallowing, crying, and feeling like the worst person in the world? Because he knows what he’s doing and he does it well. Too well.
He didn’t eat dinner because he lost his appetite when he got home, while I was gone at a class. There were clean dishes on the drying rack that needed putting away. They hadn’t been put away yet because they literally had just been unloaded before I left for class about an hour beforehand. He also was upset that we blew through $1000 in one week. That raised alarms with me as well.
His thing? Did I spent $70 at Walmart? Because I don’t normally shop there. Uh, yeah, I did. My only non-normal expenditure. Whoopdie-flippin-do.
I was curious as to how we blew through so much money so quickly. So, I simply looked online at the bank activity. All of it was within normal spending, except for extra at the grocery store, which was him, and he admitted as much. The rest? Regular bills (lots), dinner out, tithing, Amazon charges, nothing that I had absolutely anything to do with.
So why did it land on my shoulders? And why did he have to make me feel like poo about it?
I can’t figure out the motive here. I’m big on motive. Everything has motivation behind it. But not his overwhelm, his upset-ness, loss of appetite, and ensuing moodiness with me.
I don’t deserve this. That’s the first thing to recognize. Second, I need to stop feeling so bad about something outside of me. It’s all him and he needs to deal with his stuff and not try to put it on me. That is so much easier said than done.
I’m just feeling so…despondent and depressed now. I was kinda happy today, I turned it into a good day, and it feels like he ruined it because he simply could. I can’t stop searching for what I did wrong though. Is that the OCD part of me? The part that’s always convinced I’ve always done something wrong? No wonder I feel this way, he puts things that aren’t my fault onto my shoulders.
I call a foul.
Where’s the referee here?