I’m going to take a break from all of my super sexed up posts for a minute.
I haven’t spoke much on Ron, other than my first post describing our last fight. Something happened yesterday that really got my attention and I need to talk about it.
Ron always expected me to be a housewife. We both have careers, but I was expected to still be the homemaker. He expected his house to be spotless. He didn’t think he should do any of the work, he thought I should work full time and wait on him hand and foot as well.
Ron also has a red hot temper. If I didn’t get things clean in a timely fashion, he would start doing it himself. And then he would be angry with me and yell a lot. It was a nasty thing. It got to the point that if I saw him start to clean, no matter how exhausted I was, I would quickly take over to lessen the blow that was soon to happen. Every time I saw him clean, my body would physically react with panic.
It’s been 10 months living with out him now. Sometimes, things still happen that show that I am not whole after all I have been through with him. Yesterday, one of those things happened.
I got home from taking little bit to the vet for her shots and I was lounging on the sofa. My new roommate came out of his room and started washing dishes and sweeping. My body had a physical response of panic. I really thought I was going to have a panic attack. I was waiting for the yelling and scolding to come with the fact that I hadn’t started cleaning. My heart was racing, my airway was closing up, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. And then he finished what he was doing and we went on to have a normal conversation.
I’m classically conditioned to panic when someone else starts cleaning my house. Oh, this is not healthy.