I've come to the (nearly unbearable) conclusion that as much as I detest my marriage, my husband is a nicer person than me. I hate him, and he tolerates me. By simple logic, that fact dictates that he is a better human being. I don't want to tolerate him, and I can't get the animosity I feel towards him out of my brain. When I see him or look at him, I feel ... anger. He may or may not feel the same things, but he is much better at hiding it than me. So (according to the dictates of social mores) he wins. I am always the hater, and he is always the victim.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I wish I could do that thing that most people are able to do, which is to fake my way through troublesome situations. I can do it only as long as the situation has an end in sight, and since this one does not, I cannot fabricate my way through it. This is the only life I have, after all. I wonder if, in caring so much about everything, I have created a situation wherein I have to cut out those things (and people) which cause me grief. It's what I've always done, but I am unable to extricate myself from this particular situation. I think that's the crux. I feel too much of everything, all the time. I am on sensory, emotional overload.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
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