Angry blog entry is angry

Caution: spleen venting ahead. Beware of low-flying bile.

Hubby’s in the shits with me and vice versa. He’s in the shits with me because I refer to him for practically every last decision in and around the household, including the clothes and accessories I buy [which is shit difficult ‘cause I’m large all over].

I am in the shits with hubby because he essentially created this position.

If you’re going to criticise every last thing I say/do/wear/buy except sleeping, you should expect that I’m going to defer to your obviously vastly superior intellect at every turn except bedtime.

If you’re going to get angry about that, then you shouldn’t fucking belittle me at every turn. And that goes for brother-in-law Captain fucking Useless, too.

I’m probably going to get shit for writing this. Well, so what? I get shit for everything I do anyway.

I’m going to get told off for buying the wrong brand of microwave. I’m going to get told off for not getting the shoes I wanted [black Fitflop™ brand mukluks, not available in sunny Queensland. AT. ALL] or not trusting my own sense of expedience and just getting the tan ones because - guess what - I’d have been criticised for doing that anyway.

I have been backed into a corner, to the point where everything I choose is wrong. Including turning to my tormentor(s) for guidance on what is right.

Except that’s the wrong decision, too.

So don’t get bent out of shape when you leave me with nothing I can do and I choose to do nothing. It is, after all, the only option you’ve left me with.

Endless critique is abuse [I’m specifically referencing Captain Useless, here, who does the most of it]. Plain and simple. It makes the victim doubt themselves. Think less of themselves. It can render them completely helpless, if it’s done (in)correctly.

So when the inevitable shitstorm comes, I am going to gather every last ounce of courage to say, “You told me to make a decision and I made it. Either swap it for something you like better on your own time, or stop blaming me for something you don’t like.”

I will have to stay angry, just to say it. I will be trembling inside, and feeling sick. Not because I am afraid of the outcome, but because it may just shatter all the good things that have been an integral part of our relationship.

The good things outweigh the bad. Always.

It’s just that I’m not putting up with this part of 'bad’ any more.