It’s time for those April raindrops. Easter always means rain; must be the moon.
Everything here with PA hubby is the same. He can’t understand anything I say. He knows what angers me and spends a lot of time stirring that up and then acting clueless if I seem irritated. I mostly just behave very calmly and wait until he’s gone to feel and express the anger.
I deal with other PAs too. I usually don’t know they got me under hours later. Sneaky motherfucking SOBs the PAs are. It’s like a sports injury whose pain sets in later; it seemed minor at first, but I can’t use my knee very well for a few weeks. I actually hurt my knee doing squats and it took 3 weeks to heal. That’s what a PA jab can do to me.
I practiced being PA. I picked up tons of cool PA skills. I slipped into some satisfying habits. It’s like wearing scuba gear. To be PA is to be in an environment that does not support life. The passive aggression allows me to regulate my anger. It gives me a sense of control because I am interacting with someone who cannot be trusted. I have slowly come out of it, but I’m keeping some of the survival skills I picked up.
The night I realized how dangerous passive aggression is was the night I knew I could never be heard, that I was full of anger and resentment and had to get his attention by looking for something bad to do, even if it hurt us all. That’s when I pulled out of it, and since then I understand him better. It felt like I was drowning. If he feels like that, he may slowly and politely destroy us. Oh well.
There are worse things. Like TV nowadays.