Yesterday afternoon, when talking to the Army social worker, I broke down, completely. I was beside myself, literally, at hearing some news she delivered. When she asked me if I felt in danger, I told her, “Yes, I think I do.” I was surprised I said it, but more surprised that I do, indeed, feel in danger.
Last night, Will described our home as a “pressure cooker.” More specifically, a pressure cooker that I create.
I’m not certain what I’m going to do about this giant pressure cooker Will feels. He refuses to do anything about how he feels, insisting that I am the one making him feel this way, so I am the only one who can make it stop. This is one strange dichotomy of abusers: He thinks I have control over him (his emotions), when in fact, I do not and cannot. I think he seeks to control me, when in his reality, he seeks to control how he feels THROUGH me.
I really cannot do anything about him at all. I am going to the Army social services for an appointment today for me. There is a group I can take part in and other options, too.
Gotta get Marc to school.
My Real World is Different From What He Described
Walkin’ On Sunshine
We Forgot to Scream