Got 2 choices. Could write about my Mabon (which would be
the more calming) or I could write about the asshole who is causing my blood
pressure to spike and who is severely tempting me to lose my self control and
my temper (certainly more cathartic).  

Ever have a moment – a crystalline moment of pure clarity
when you could say ‘Ah ha! That is the moment that made me see.’ I’ve had several such moments in my life.  I had one this week end.  I can see myself almost a spectator - a witness to it, outside my own body viewing it as I stand in the hallway –
once again hearing your  voice give me an order – tell me how exactly to do it –
as if I am an incompetent child.  It’s
not like you are unable to do it yourself – it’s just that it’s easier to have me
do it.  What the request was is not
important, what is important was that I said ‘Never order me around again. You
want it done, do it yourself.’ For that
statement I received a flood of verbal abuse which included being told that my ‘attitude’
was the result of all of the issues in our relationship, that I was ‘lazy’ (I
work 10 to 12 hours a day besides keeping house), that I am selfish because in the
time I do have free I choose to spend it working on my garden (from which he
benefits) or my art work as opposed to spending it ministering to you and your
needs. It was while you were screaming at
me – verbal abuse accusing me, insulting me; hurting me in anyway you could
think of that I realized how much you must really underneath it all – hate me.  Hate that you are dependent upon me for so much.
 Hate that I don’t need and want you. Hate that I can live quite easily
without you in my life.  Hate that you
know that I can and will divorce myself from you, your cares and concerns –
and do it easily without looking back for a second. 

 I have a terrible temper. I rarely lose it. Upon those occasions
when I am pissed I tend to get verbal.  That
is stage one. It is stage 2 when I get
quiet, after all the words have been said, I’ve stated my position. I’ve made my decision – what ever it may be
and any discussion or negotiations are over.  The treaty has been signed, if necessary with
your blood. I go into self imposed exile
– the glacial freeze of non communication.  I bake bread – pound it into submission. I go for long walks – seeking the solace found
in nature or find release in physical labor – a safety release valve with appreciable
results. Most who know me don’t push me
into a stage 2 lightly.  

 The few fools who insist on picking and prying farther in a
vain effort to get me to speak or renegotiate while I am in a stage 2 tempt stage
3.  Uncontrollable unleashed temper. I don’t care who I hurt, what I say, what I
do.  I literally see red; my actions appear
as someone else’s thru a haze.  I don’t
stop to consider the ramifications – pure scorch and burn policy in its finest
form – stripped down for battle.  I may
not be the last one standing but neither will you be and I can live with that
easily.  I am afraid of my temper – of being
out of control because I know what I am capable of.

 After this weekend I am borderline stage 2. I’ve nothing to say that won’t be cold or
cruel or cutting – razor sharp scalpels on your male ego and pride and it’s not
the time yet to do any of that. I’d like
to part on amicable terms but you are fast making that impossible – not an
option.  I’m holding the words deep
inside – reserved if needed for January – at a time of my own choosing. A time of new beginnings and taking out old
trash. And that’s just what this farce
has become – old trash. You’ve tainted
even my memories of good times – I’ve long since had enough and it’s only biting
my tongue that saves you now. The considerations
now are financial – and they are at this moment significant. In January it won’t matter – it will be
freedom at any price.