Tom came back home from visiting his family today. There’s still an awful atmosphere between us after my birthday but I tried to keep it civil in front of the kids, that was until he started talking about his floatation experience and how relaxing and lovely it was and how he really needed it as he’d been so stressed lately and how he felt so good afterwards that he’s going to find one around here and start going regularly and then to really kick the boot in he said, “It was so good that I bought a session for Pippa (his sister in law) as she’s had a bit of a hard time lately and she deserves some relaxation.”
I think I stood there with my mouth wide open for a minute or two while I took in what he said before telling him how hurt I felt that he could treat Pippa to a seventy-five-pound treatment because she was having a hard time but thought that a twenty-nine-pound hotel room was enough for me and how he couldn’t grant me the same level of compassion and kindness and even failed to see how stressed I’ve been for the last few years.
He went absolutely mental and started screaming and shouting at me, all in front of the kids. He told me that my life was easy, that I had no stress at all as all I ever did was sit on my arse doing nothing, that I was childish, that I needed to fucking grow up and then he actually said, “I suggest you go to your room and sit and think seriously about whether you want to be with me or not” and then he pointed to the stairs and told me to go!
I did go but I didn’t need to think. I already know the answer.