The smashed cake on our sofa was a mess to clear. My mind, this confusion of mine was fogged with sadness. I also had the task of cleaning this up.. Have you ever tried to clean butter icing from a white sofa? The colour and the smell stay for a long time. Ants start invading and eating up crumbs. Getting professionals to take it away to clean would have been a costly affair and time-consuming. Maybe I will throw a rug over it to cover the stain of my mistake.
The MISTAKE. Oh yes, the cake was not the perfect peach colour, and the design was not neat enough. I had hired the best baker in town to bake it. It did look as perfect the photo that I had got approval for. But I had spoilt the anniversary, a day of celebration by bringing the cake which seemed to have triggered rage.
My mind went back to the time I get screamed when my parents came for a visit. They were not good enough, and they were judging. I felt my parents were judging me for picking this path of life. My sister, she is too loud and talks too much. Yes, my beautiful, outspoken sister she was a good companion when she played the wedding planner and took beautiful photographs. Now her voice is just grating, and that's not ok.
I am ashamed to talk about the problem because it makes me look weak. I know you think yes that's you a vulnerable human being. I feel sorry for my spouse, aren't we supposed to stick with the good times and bad times. Maybe our bad times are a little more than the happy times. I am genuinely scared to get out of this and leave; it would be worse to be a failure at a love marriage that I chose against all odds.
The other day I got slapped because the food was cold. I had left the food out on the table piping out, and it was a rainy day which made the weather play tricks in our living room. I hurried to warm the noodles but a point was made when it was thrown into the garbage bin, and we had takeout. Mind you; the pizza seemed slightly colder than the food I had cooked.
When we are out with friends, I can see the other women shaking their heads in despair at the tone of my spouse talking down to me
I keep the house very well, with my fulltime job and looking after the pets. I know our friends laugh at me, how domesticated I have become. I believe in equality that's why I think I put up with a lot of the abuse.
My wife, she suffers from some rage, which with treatment will get well. She doesn't want to take medication, so I have to wait until she agrees. I remind myself that we are in this for the good times and bad times.
"An abuser's psychological diagnosis isn't the problem. Their sense of entitlement is."
― Caroline Abbott