It’s been almost a full 24 hours since I last saw, or heard from, my husband.
Where is he?
I couldn’t tell you. He doesn’t call, and all the friends that he could be with, don’t respond to my texts inquiring as to his whereabouts. Super awesome.
I guess we’re in full blown Silent Treatment, now.
Yesterday evening, around 7:30 PM, my husband left me at my parents’ house, with plans to take his new co-worker by his office and “show him around”. He said he was “so exhausted” and wanted to make it an early night. He said he was going to wake up early, because he had so much work to do. He said he would perhaps return to stay the night with the kids and I, but would call before 9 PM, to let me know, for sure.
And then he disappeared into the ether.
Apparently, by “showing JD (John Doe) around the office”, he actually meant, “go party with my friends, and get too drunk by 9 PM, to remember to call and let you know I’m not coming back.” Needless to say, I was… displeased, and when I finally got in touch with Mr. Party Animal (and not until the following morning at 11:45), I made my displeasure pretty clear. The fact that my dear husband considers my righteous indignation to be “punishment”, should clue you in to what kind of a person he is. After all, he did make excuses and mutter a half-assed “Sorry”, when I explained why I was unhappy with him. Shouldn’t that be enough?
It would seem that he honestly expects that I should be okay with this. I should just understand that his plans changed…however abruptly. I shouldn’t have expected a phone call, or courtesy text, under the circumstances. I shouldn’t have been angry that I waited up to see if he was coming back. I definitely shouldn’t have brought up that he failed to call all the following morning, either. Nope. Definitely not.
These are the rules.
If I break the rules, I’ve got one chance to drop it. I will be given a warning. My warning is that muttering of the half-assed, insincere “Sorry.” And, even though we both know it’s more a “Sorry you have to be so irrational”, rather than a “Sorry, I totally blew you off and forgot you existed.”, we’re supposed to just pretend that hemeans the second, instead of the first, then move on with life. Done.
If I don’t move on with life, then there are consequences. The most common these days, is this…the Silent Treatment. This is DH’s way of teaching me a lesson. Isn’t it better to just drop it, when I say “sorry”, rather than risk me moving on with my life as though you never meant a thing to me? Surely my behavior isn’t worth that to you, is it? This is DH’s way of letting me know who cares the least, in this ‘marriage’…and by far, he is the winner. He could drop me- and this family- in a second flat, if I can not cease and desist with my endless charade of pointing out the supposed ‘flaws’ in his behavior.
Believe me, I get the message. Loud and clear.
I broke the rules… and now, I’m suffering the consequences.
This usually causes horrible panic attacks. Sometimes…flashbacks. That’s what the constant threat of complete and utter abandonment does to a normal person. Of course, normal people don’t have to live with the threat of complete and utter abandonment, constantly hanging over their heads, over the slightest infraction of some insignificant, f*cked up rule, in the Narcissist’s Law Book.
Yet, I’m supposed to feel lucky to not be a normal person. I’m supposed to feel privileged somehow. Special.
Sorry… I’m not feeling it today…
Today, I just feel weak. And a bit nauseous. And my right ear aches.
And I’m bleeding…a lot.
I think I might be miscarrying, because this is not my time of the month. And the cramping is pretty bad.
He read the email where I told him about my bleeding, and the pain….but still no response. I did break the law, after all. I must be taught a lesson.
I bet you didn’t know that silence actually has a very distinct sound. It does. It’s the sound of my worthlessness. The sound that reminds me that I’m not important- or precious. It’s the sound of being nothing. Being disposable. It’s the sound of a love that never was. Of caring that never really existed.
It’s the sound of a fake family. It’s the sound of eight meaningless years.
It’s the sound of abandonment. Of pain, and suffering and grief…
Today is a little different. (No, this isn’t the first Silent Treatment I’ve endured. There have been many others.) I hear new sounds in the silence.
For instance, I can also hear the sound of hope… the sound of possibility- the sound of a life that doesn’t revolve around the fickle whims of a narcissist.
And if I listen really close…really, really hard….I can even hear the sound of freedom. Of healing.
And then, there is this one other sound today. One sound that grows louder by the minute. A sound that threatens to soon drown out all the rest… a sound so rich it melts, like milk chocolate on my tongue, and tastes just as sweet.
After so many times this brutal silence has cut me down. After so many times of caving in, and crumpling, and slinking back with my tail between my legs. After so many silences that have sounded like my worst fears, and my shame….
This time…this silence…. has the distinct sound….