The many layers of misery

Misery is a gift that keeps us from getting too comfortable and remaining static.  Oh, how I love sarcasm.  Misery is straight up miserable.

I’m not good at hiding emotion.  Even if I don’t verbalize something, my face is quite a tattle-tale.  I’ve been having a hell of a time controlling angry outbursts, and for the most part, I’m doing a fantastic job.  I’m proud of myself for not throwing a shoe at manchild’s face when he makes me feel bad about asking him to take care of his laundry or put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

He picks up on my irritability, and it bothers him.  Boohoo.  This is what he wants:


Karamari Damacy.  Special skill: Rollin’ with it.

Unfortunately, he isn’t the King of all Cosmos, so this is what he gets:


Tiny Rage demon.  Special skill: Bitch bombs

I can try to justify it as a response to my life turning into one fuck-my-life event after another, but that makes it sound like I’m trying to absolve myself of responsibility for the ways I act and react.  Instead, I say I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to take it out on him, or avoid speaking to him out of fear of what I’ll say.  Words can hurt.  As far as I’m concerned, I just can’t win.

In health, not so much In sickness.

I don’t know what else I can do.  Ideas?

5 thoughts on “The many layers of misery

  1. Sing it sista! I’m the same boat. I got hit with a lot recently and I’m at either-shut-up-and-attempt-to-be-pleasant-or-bitch-because-this-stupid-brain-tumor-won’t-do-me-the-courtesy-of-killing-me.
    So I watch my favorite show on Netflix and color or go kill pixels. It helps. Sometimes.
    Just breathe. Get through one minute at a time if you have to. And know you’re not alone.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you Xunae! I know you get it, and I don’t know how you deal. Inoperable brain tumor has got to be extremely anxiety provoking at the very least. I say we vote that tumor off of the island.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. How cute are you as a kid? I just don’t have the words. 🙂 And is that a Teddy Ruxpin? When I was young, I had a Mrs. Beasley, made popular by a young girl named Buffy in an old TV show called Family Affair. (As if Buffy the Vampire Slayer was the first.) The show was about a widowed father, who, of course, had a butler.

    Sorry, but I don’t have any advice for how to get along with someone you live with, as I mostly enjoy my singlehood. But I would suggest feeding him lots and lots of heavy food, so he’s too tired to do anything but smile at you. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • My baby pictures are insane. My eyeballs were so big, I looked like a grayling alien. Yep, that’s a TR! Teddy has had brain surgery a dozen times, and his head is sort of falling off now. The last time he had batteries and a tape in, he still worked. Mrs. Beasley just beat me in a staring contest. I looked it up, and she sells for $250 on eBay..wowzas.

      I talked to the boy this evening, and his input was I should say whatever I want. If I hurt his feelings, he’ll blame my illness. We can make it a common enemy now that it’s personified. My year in singlehood was so nice in so many ways. Illness says “maybe you should change the locks tomorrow while he’s away…”


      Liked by 1 person

      • Here you are, complaining about how big your eyes are, when I’ve always felt that my eyes were too small. You can hardly see them! Like maybe I have a little bit of Chinese in me, or something. (Sorry, Chinese people.)

        Mrs. Beasley didn’t have batteries — just a string in her back that you pulled so you could hear her talk. When I was young, you had to use your imagination if you wanted to play.

        I know it’s hard to live with other people, but since you and your husband compliment each other so well, perhaps you should learn to live with the dude. 🙂

        Liked by 2 people

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