So, long time, no blog. Been busy. Been "happy". Been having a definite lack of drive to write anything.
I love Chris so much. So much. Can't even explain how much. I love how he giggles when something strikes him as funny, like he is surprised to be laughing. I love how his eyes sparkle when he's happy or having a good time. I love how he has a plan for what he wants to do and works at it until it is finished, even when the process is annoying to me.
But, and there is always a but, isn't there.
There are things I hate about him. Which is hard, because it is hard to hate something you love. I hate that he thinks he is entitled to have his way in all things, especially if he is paying for it. And even when he isn't. I hate that he deals with emotions by drinking. I hate that when he has a problem, he pretends it isn't a problem until he can't anymore. I hate that when he is mad at himself or hurting over something else, he deals with it by striking out at those of us he claims to love. I hate that he is so enfatuated with nice things that he lets concern for them become more important to him than how he treats us or makes us feel.
I know that this is a big, scary list of things I dislike. And the following is even scarier. And I think its going to sound really bad, because it makes so little sense.
It started three weeks ago. We moved. He finally got the cash dispersement from his gramma's estate and we looked and looked at houses before buying ten acres in rural kansas with a single wide trailer on it. I know, "trailer trash". But to be out in the country, to have enough space to garden, have a horse or three, let the kids run and play, shoot at targets, it was too great to pass up.
Moving sucked, doesn't it always? Between the two of us, we had too much crap for this smaller house. But I knew it was coming and was prepared to get rid of some things. He seemed to be also.
So we get moved. We start to get things put away and arranged. And then the rest of his grammas estate needs to be dealt with. The physical property like furniture and clothes.
At this point, things get weird. He got in a hurry. Left on the third, took his stepdad with him, came back with a 20 foot uhaul on the fifth. And it was FULL. Antiques, boxes of photos, trunks full of clothes and blankets, all jumbled together. Trash literally mixed with treasure. There was no way all of it could possible fit into this house.
Maybe, MAYBE, if we got rid of even more stuff we had already owned, we could fit some of it in. And that's IF, we wanted it all in. Some of it was/is HIDEOUS. Orange-red high backed chairs and matching footstool? No thanks. All of it smelled like old people and pot (his grama lived her final years in colorado, the stuff was sitting in a house his stepbrothers lived in all winter).
So, any way, it was here, I wasn't thrilled, tried to be supportive and make the best of it. It sat in the truck for a few days, he'd rented it for longer than the trip took, but we finally had to empty it and take it back. I really tried to get him to rent a storage unit somewhere. For at least a few weeks until the house could be put together and stuff sorted. He didn't want to. Was very glib about the fact that it would be fine on the deck with a roll of plastic over it.
It wasn't fine. It rained last night. The plastic blew off the stuff almost immdiately. Add to that, the fact that Christopher stayed up all last night. Past of it was that he was snoring and I elbowed him to stop. Part of it was that he was in a nasty mood over the stuff and the rain and was up drinking.
That's how he handles his feelings. He stays up all night and drinks. By the morning, he's usually rearranged or reorganized something and worked out his feelings. Often times he goes to bed and sleeps all day and is fine. Sometimes his mood just stays nasty. He picks at people and things, basically taking his nasty mood out on those around him.
There have also been times that his drinking resulted in nasty fights between the two of us. I'm hard headed. I won't let something drop, especially when I'm a bit drunk myself. This morning was the worst it has ever been.
He was already upset over his gramma and her stuff, I get it, grief makes you crazy and in weird ways. In addition to having been up all night drinking and moving that stuff around, he was without sleep, mad about it and had taken an ambian.
Then Isaiah came in with the news that a chicken had been killed. Chris came out of that bedroom like his ass was on fire. He was mad and he was set on killing the dog. In front of the rest of us.
A verbal arguement started. He called me nasty names and was basically a monster. Gizmo was handled roughly and tossed around unkindly. Isaiah and Chris were nose to nose. The little boys were in tears. I was screaming. I got the car keys, my phone and purse together. Stashed all but the phone in the car. Told the boys to get in the car. Got the other animals in the car with them. Chris and Isaiah were still face to face by the dog pen, with Gizmo still in it. Neither Chris nor Isaiah were backing down. I tried to call 911. The phone froze up.
I fumbled. Chris yelled that it was legal to kill a pet that killed a chicken. I told him to prove it. He snatched the phone and smashed its screen on a rock in the yard. I tried to grab it back, but it was too broken to work.
Chris and Isaiah were still face to face. I picked up a rock out of the yard and held it up. I told him he could move or get a rock in his face. His face cleared a little. He backed up. Isaiah got the dog. We got in the car and left.
I drove the ten miles to the nearest gas station. Got their phone. Called 911. Made a report. Did my best to be accurate and not embelish the situation. The deputy said it was a must arrest report. After we were done taking, he went and interviewed Chris here at the house and took him to jail.
I drove the kids on in to Parsons. The little dudes didn't have shoes. Noah didn't have a shirt. i had four animals in the car, along with us. I was trying not to sob.
My cousin wasn't home. My aunt was at a church retreat. So I did the only thing I could think of. I took the kids through the McDonalds drive through and then to Walmart. Isaiah stayed in the car with the kids and animals. I bought a new phone on a pre-paid plan with a new number. And fix - a - flat and a pet crate.
The fix - a - flat was for my Mazda it is sitting in Chris's mom's driveway. I've been driving a ford freestyle that we bought for the all wheel drive capabilities with plans to sell the Mazda.
The deputy stopped by after we got home. Took some pictures. Asked some follow up questions. Chris apparently tried to get me arrested for driving off in the ford. We bought it together, he can't do that.
He also can't kick us out of this home. We choose it and moved in together. He can take me to court and try. I've decided I'll fight it. I've also decided that if he will commit to 100% all the time sobriety, no alcohol ever, no ambian, no sleep aids, and if he will come to couple's counseling of some sort with me, I'm willing to work on it.
I still love him. I love him, but this is not okay. Running over my feelings in things relating to our home and then taking the consequences of his poor planning out on us is not okay. Threatening to kill my son's dog is not okay.
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