money + food = I curse a lot here.

Last night, A came home and started asking me how I spent my money, etc. That would have been just fine had he:

1. Not been in a foul mood so I felt attacked by the tone of his voice; and
2. Not said “other people are wondering”

First of all, he was in a foul mood because he was at his parents house and they were frustrating him somehow. I was never clear how exactly they frustrated him, but they managed to piss me off, not just frustrate.

[Consider that you’re warning: I’m fucking pissy as hell right now]

Secondly, when he pulled out the “other people are wondering”—I’m sorry, but who are these other people, and what business of it is theirs how we split financial obligations?

Well, those other people were his parents. Who knows to who he’s talked to about our finances BEFORE bringing it up to me!

Cue the flashback of B’s parents thinking I was a freeloader and gold-digger. (And yes, they really did use those words, which is why it’s that upsetting to me.)

So last night, instead of making and eating dinner, I sat down and accounted for my pay check. A said it wasn’t necessary, but clearly it was when he’s tossing out the line “I don’t understand where your money is going.”

Well, you know me, I’m such a big spender. Like when we went to the store the other day to use a gift certificate someone had gotten for us: it was split on things for C and for A. I didn’t get a single thing at that store.

When I/we moved in, our deal was that I pay for food while he paid rent, utilities, and cable. Is that splitting expenses 50-50? No. But our salaries weren’t close when I moved in, and he was well aware of this. We had agreed on this arrangement. Let’s also remember that I paid not just for food, but for everything C related. True, I get some money from social security disability, but that didn’t even cover C’s monthly preschool tuition until December of this year. Clothes, toys, books, excursions to state parks, and all other miscellaneous child expenses fell on me.

I received a pay raise in late January, but I also paid for a good portion of the wedding. So no, I don’t have anything in savings at the moment. Am I happy about that? No. But that’s life.

Oh my god, the more I’m writing, the angrier and more bitter I’m getting. Ugly Thoughts In My Head: What business of his mother’s is our financial situation? And what a fucking hypocrite, as she stayed at home during their childhood and beyond.

I mean, for god’s sake, A—I cook dinner. I clean. I am not perfect, but I do carry more than my “fair share” of the chores around the house. And I go through a little dialogue in my head every time I vacuum, about how unfeminist this is, but then, I remind myself, that it’s not that the chores are expected of me because I’m female, but I do them because A, as a small-business owner, has odd hours, and so I do these for the good of the family.

I feel like shit. I totally feel like shit.

Did I eat dinner last night? No, how could I?  I was too upset.

Did anyone notice? Nope.

Did that validate my feelings of worthlessness? Absolutely.

I know I’m just internalizing this crap, but It. Hurts. So. Much.

I am so angry that he waited to talk about this until after we got married. We had talked about money prior, of course, but d’oh, he conveniently forgot to mention this.

I’m pissed that he asked me to stop talking to my parents about the honeymoon issue because it was none of their business, but apparently how we share household costs is HIS parents business.

I’m upset that he waited until he was in an extremely nasty mood to bring this up. Hello, is that not psychology 101, which I never even took? That you sometimes need to give yourself space and time to calm down before you can rationally talk about something? I mean, that’s kinda why I keep this blog—so I can not be rational and not calm down and be pissy and angry and selfish and…shit, I’m internalizing again.

I resent that I’m not only expected to pay for half the household expenses when we don’t earn the same amount, but that I pay for most of C’s stuff. I hate that the chores I do around the house are apparently worthless.

I hate this. I fucking hate this.  

This is now the second time in three nights that I have been tempted to go for a run. I don’t care if I’m raped or mugged. First of all, I doubt I would be. But secondly, wouldn’t it be a goddamn blessing if I’m the lazy-ass gold-digging free-loader that I apparently am?  If you didn’t know, the urge to run comes when I get angry and feel frustrated. It actually started after I was sexually harassed, and I had an urge to smash every single thing in my apartment. I went for a run instead. During B’s illness, I sometimes wanted to cut myself. Because you know, that would so help. *shakes head*

When the Health Care Bill that Does Nothing passed, I wanted to run in anger and frustration. I worked so hard for what?

I guess I’m feeling very similarly now: I work so hard for what?

And have I mentioned, too, that I’m the only one in the household who needs to take medications on a daily basis? And, oh, how funny, I’m the only one in the household without health insurance?

Yeah, this is fair. This is totally fair.

[Please do detect the dripping sarcasm/bitterness/anger].

Um…I suppose I should mention that money and food are my triggers for my ED. I can talk myself out of buying food. I know, how stupid right? But I’m don’t need it, so why not just skip a meal or five?  

You all know me, and you know that I have seen psychologists for my ED. Everyone has said the same thing: “You cannot budget for food, W. You can’t.”

I’ve accepted this.

Oh, unhealthy thoughts: go away.

A’s parents: go fuck yourself and mind your own goddamn business. Or offer to help out. Or appreciate that I not only work full time, like A does, but I help him with his business, saved him thousands in legal costs, spent spare time in the fall re-labeling CDs and DVDs after a busy day of work, vacuum, do dishes, general cleaning.

A: stop being such a dick. Seriously, I know you see the world in black and white, and I knew that when I married you. Fine. But goddamnit, you’re such a hypocrite to state that my parents were being too nosy (and they were) but that somehow, it’s fine for your parents…?

I really want to disappear. Literally. I don’t want to pick up C. I don’t want to go “home.” I want to just disappear right now. I’m tired. I’m exhausted.

Why do I have to explain myself to you, A? I mean, after I accounted for more than half my monthly earnings without even considering food, he let off me. But goddamnit.