So I’m trying to be a good wife and so far being sober without meds and alcohol is frightening yet my marriage is better because I”m doing something that my husband wants. It’s like when you cook for a man and they remember it forever (if it was good). Well, so I let him have an inch and he took a mile. All my meds are given to me in little pill boxes. The medicine itself is in the safe….half of the meds are as needed……this is a problem because he threw away the key and changed the code on the safe. I just figured this out today….sighhh this is why my blog is called Truth and Consequences. So I try and break into my own safe during a major anxiety attack for a NON-NARCOTIC med. that works wonders. Well my code didn’t work and the key is no where to be found. Upon waking him up I got promptly yelled at and dismissed. “Deal with it!” but I’m sitting here breathing in and out of a paper bag and reply, “what do you think I”m doing?” I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. He has become one of those really creepy control men who are like looking for tire marks in the driveway and then comes in yelling because he knows you left the house. And you’re all like: I needed some oregano for my pizza soup! Yeah this is how he is now. If my car isn’t parked exactly like I found it, he freaks….”the car has moved, where did you go today?” and in reply, “the grocery store.” He says “sure, yeah right, tell me the truth.” But that is the truth, that is all there is to it! I hate having someone feed my meds like I’m in some kind of lunacy establishment. So i tried to pick the lock and probably made it to where the key would never fit into it again. Tried tearing his room apart (he has a man cave where the safe is) piece by piece and also trying to fit everything back just the way I found it was what I did until 2am last night. This safe in the picture…..ours is going to look like that soon. I swear I’m gonna go nuts. I pray that God will just take this hate from me so I can stop losing control and just accept it. That I’m apparently 5 yrs old again……..so my meds for the next day were in his jeans pocket which he lays on the laundry basket when he goes to bed. I waited for his breathing to slow and some snores came out and I slipped out of bed and started crawling on the floor stalking his jeans like a cat. Haha. I get the meds now for today and I take some of the meds. I finally calmed down and the oxygen was returning to my fingers and forearm (hyperventilation causes loss of oxygen to the brain; therefore making my muscles feel like soup) I was finally able to catch my breath and life was good again. Well, I go to slip the meds back into his jean pocket and its reallly dark right? So I fucking stupidly placed them in the wrong pair of jeans!!!!!!! So this morning when he was changing out his pants, I’m just sitting there cowering thinking he would be irate about some of the meds missing. If I was lucky I thought he might just throw them on the bed and say, “there’s your medicine,” but NO. This didn’t happen at all. I told him the truth after he said my name real slow and with crescendo “Miiiirrriiiaaam!!!” He said, “I can’t trust you for shit, don’t ever go through my pockets, ever!!!” Justin told me that this was God pointing at me and laughing for doing the wrong thing. I swear I’m gonna give him a reason not to trust me like blow up the safe or call a locksmith…..blowing it up sounds pretty good right about now.