It only gets better

Well, here I am again, sitting in my study, trying to write and getting nowhere.

Since my last entry, my husband suffered a stroke. We caught it early so there is no permanent damage, but this is his vindication for not working, ever again. And the truth of what I wished is more terrible that I have a right to think.

While sitting by his hospital bed, I found myself looking forward to going home alone; having control of the television, choosing my own meal and sleeping with the window open. (We can't have it open, there might be a thief in the neighborhood).

I was told once, by a man I respected, that people accuse others of what they themselves are guilty of, now I know that to be true.

There is a great deal of bad water under the bridge between us and it will never run clean, but I stood in front of an alter and made a promise to a higher power - for better or for worse, little did I know I would end up with more of the latter.

He is not physically abusive, but mentally, he should teach classes.

I am now at a time in my live where I have no young children that I can be threatened with, my beloved dog of eighteen years went to a beter place and so she is safe and I have little left that can be used against me, so I consider myself lucky.

Often, in the years past, I believed that even death must be better than this, so he could never harm me, I had nothing more to loose.

I still allow the suggestons, as they are really orders, to keep the peace. I am tired of the fighting and getting nowhere. So I abide.

I am still much better off than many.

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