Mondays can be rough sometimes. The weekend is officially over and the work week is looming in front of you. What’s worse is when your recovering meth addict significant other wakes up after 36 hours of sleep in a bit of a rampage.

The dreadful sound of the alarm clock signals that Monday morning has officially arrived.  Even worse, the dreadful sound of the name calling demon from the man I’m trying to support while he recovers has also arrived.

It starts with him asking if I had just gotten in.  “No”, I replied. “I’ve been here all night.” We lay there for a minute, I’m laying next to him and try to touch him but he shakes me off.  “I just need some room”.  So I move and roll over.  Suddenly, he’s over top of me looking to see what I’m doing.  “You can keep on, you don’t have to stop looking at your phone because of me.”  I inform him that the last time I looked at my phone was when I turned the alarm off and woke him up.

“You must think I’m deaf, dumb, and blind.”

What???  Then he continues by telling me the tank top I have on is the same one I was wearing when I snuck out to have sex in his truck with some phantom stranger last week.  Again, what???  So I try to ignore his heinous comments and close my eyes while he starts grabbing some things to get in the shower.

THEN…

He says “I’ve got to get out of here.  I can’t live here any more.  I’m tired of living with a whore.”

That did it.  I told him to “GET OUT!  GET OUT RIGHT NOW!  You WILL NOT speak to me like that and you WILL NOT call me names!  GET OUT!”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll leave”  to which I replied “I don’t give a f*** if you have clothes on or not GET THE F*** OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!  RIGHT NOW!  I have tried to be supportive of you while you go through your recovery but I’ll be damned if you’re gonna treat me like this.  I’ve never done anything to you, never cheated on you, never f***** around with anyone else.  You don’t get to call me a WHORE or ANYTHING ELSE.  Get your s*** and GET THE F*** OUT!”

He goes into the bathroom to shower while I am sitting straight up in the bed, shaking in anger and disbelief.  When he gets out of the shower, he says “sorry” for starting my day off like that.  Admits that yes, I have been there for him and that I’ve done a great job taking care of him.  I point out that he didn’t apologize for calling me a whore.

That’s when he says again that he’s not deaf, dumb, or blind.  I tell him he must be since I’ve done nothing to him but that he needed to get out.  He meanders through the room a bit and then comes back to me and says he is sorry, he should have never called me a whore.  Well, no s***!!!  I just stared at him.  He said it again, told me he had to just learn to let that go (“that” being the delusions he has created that he believes are real and somehow make me a nymphomaniac whore who sneaks out while he is sleeping to f*** who knows what in the middle of the night.)

Anyway, he leaves for work.  I lay down, cry for a bit, and finally doze back off (I don’t have to go in to work until several hours after him.)  In the middle of a crazy dream when the bedroom door opens back up.  He’s come back home.  He can’t focus on anything.  I tell him to notify his supervisor that he is sick and to lay back down which he does.  He grabs me and holds me oh so tightly until he falls asleep.  The demon has subsided for a few moments…

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