I'm not sure what to do exactly and I don't even know where to begin with what has really been going on here for me. I know I won't be able to explain right, so I guess I'll just start anywhere. It was a bad week and it ended up in one of those crying, screaming meltdowns on the phone with the therapist at the crack of dawn Monday morning when I finally reached the breaking point. I have NEVER before done that to New Guy and it scared me that that happened. And then I had a flashback in his office. To top it, the flashback was the one little bit of missing memory from an event that I thought I had found a way to deal with in spite of the missing piece. And I DID deal with it. It's just that I only dealt with what I had and didn't deal with the missing piece. I couldn't because it was missing. And now I see why. It was too physical, too loaded and too ugly. And yet I have dealt with that piece unconsciously (and without progress) monthly since I was fifteen. I am now forty-four. That's a long time. Why now? I don't know, but here is how it happened:

Therapist: Why do you think menstruation does this to you?

Me: I don't know.

Therapist: How do the little girl and the teenage girl feel about menstruation?

AND THEN... I remember saying, "Oh, no... No. Please go away..." But it was too late and the reason just popped right up. It came from the teenage girl, who said, "Because that's what was happening when that man took me to his house and it made everything so much worse. So much worse. So much worse." And yes, the 'that' which made 'everything' (rape) worse was menstruation. Images, pain, feeling. Intrusions continue and I will have to handle them alone.

I have no appointment for next week now because I trusted my husband to deal with scheduling the twins' orthodontist appointments when I was too fucked over to handle it myself. And he fucked me right out of my therapy appointment. Next time he wants sex (yuck), I will say, "But honey, you ALREADY fucked me. Don't you remember?" He knows he is not supposed to make any plans for Tuesdays and he did it anyway in spite of how desperate my situation can become at the drop of a hat. So fuck him. I'm NOT going to fuck him (and yes, I'll be honest, I search for reasons not to fuck him anyway).

Want to hear the irony? His excuse was actually ME in a roundabout way. Because he has 'so much to take care of' (when I can't), he couldn't schedule appointments correctly and just wanted to get something scheduled with the kids' dentist and get off the phone already. Okay. That's fine. But the poor mofo is going to have a lot more to take care of in the next few weeks than he usually does. And it didn't have to be this way. He could have chosen to make my therapy time a priority as I have been asking and begging him to for a long time. Fine. I'll let him have it his way. And he's gonna be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest because I will have to handle this one on my own and will not have time or energy for my family. I hope the few minutes of stress and wrangling that he spared himself when he did this to me were worth what he's going to be dealing with now. And if not? Too bad. Sometimes I'm just trying to stay sane and I work my ass off to do it. But to my own husband, I am not worth five extra minutes on the phone? He keeps up this quick fix type of thing to cut short a task and he's going to be SHOCKED at the result. Without me, this whole household will eventually go down like the fucking Titanic in a bankruptcy proceeding. Keep looking to shave off a few minutes of irritation, honey. Even when it causes me weeks of flashbacks. Go for it! And then find a lawyer. First for a divorce and then for a bankruptcy. Asshole. Where will you be while I am getting fucked when I am already bleeding and in pain? You will be trying to spare yourself a little irritation. Just like my mother. Fuck you. Don't ask me for shit. And *POOF* -- you have no more credit cards! Because I know I won't be in good enough shape to clean up your mess. DEAL WITH IT. I hope you will all enjoy the baloney sandwiches for dinner. I would like to think that this will be laid at YOUR feet, since you will be the one serving the baloney, but I doubt that that's what will happen. Sometimes I hate your lazy ass. Ask me for NOTHING. I will ask the same from you. You can bank on it (pun intended).