BIL: I understand you’ve stopped smoking.
Me: I’m down to 5 cigare–
BIL: No. You must stop cold turkey. Otherwise, you’re not actually stopping. I’m just giving you a goal, you understand. Something to strive for.
Me: (unvoiced) I’ve seen this before. If I achieved his goal, he would just move the goalpost. He would never be happy or satisfied, no matter what I did. Been there, done that, got the scars.
three days later…
Partner: you’re still smoking.
Me: confused. I’m down to 5 a day. From 30 a day. You knew this.
Partner: No, you shouldn’t be smoking at all.
Me: You’ve been talking to your brother. Because up until now, you were happy with my decrease.
Partner: It’s expensive – and the common account. I’m the only one putting into it.
Me: Yessss? It pays for utilities, food, and medical needs. We agreed to this decades ago. Before I had any income at all.
Partner: You should be putting in as much as I do.
Me: How much are you putting in?
Partner: 350.
Me: So, you want me to put in my entire monthly income?
Partner: What? You get aid.
Me: Yes. It’s 354 a month. So, you are putting in 1/3rd your monthly income and you want me to put in 100% of my income and that’s fair and equal?
Partner: oh.
Me: yeah, oh. Maybe your brother wasn’t aware of this. Because you were.
Partner: cigarettes are expensive.
Me: And I’ve been paying for them. I’ve not taken a penny from the common account. Since you’ve been sick, I’ve paid for everything.
His brother has been ‘helping’ my partner in how to run his household. And his conniving, mooching, hoe of a wife.
My partner was sick. Very sick. Deaths door, sick. Family came to help while he was in hospital. My partner needed this help. And for that, I’m glad. But one day, I got sick. I couldn’t breath. I asked for help. My BIL concluded I was just looking for attention. Trying to take attention away from the one who was actually sick.
From that day forward, I was invisible. I spoke, he didn’t hear me. Closed doors in my face. Never offered water, food, or attention. He literally ate in front of me and never offered to share. I could barely get out of bed. ‘food’ was a bag of chips. He has done what he can to destroy our marriage. Which, honest to god, is a joke. My husband has already tried to kill me 8 times – that I know of. But now?
I’m sick of it. I could handle partners abuse, it was just daily life. It wasn’t fun, sometimes I got very angry. But his meddling has made me depressed. I don’t want to do anything I used to enjoy. I don’t want to live. Death is an option.
But so is leaving. I could just walk out. I would lose everything I have. Clothing. Art supplies. My computer.
There are options.
Silent Scream 