Being Sick Is An Excuse: Episode 2

Being sick is an excuse: Episode 2

He read that period cramps really aren't that bad, and that women fake the pain to get out of things or garner sympathy. On the scale of what others with uteri have, i get off easy. But there's usually a fee hours a month where I'm going to bed and not getting anything done.

He realized that if he screamed in my face long enough I'd get up and do what he wanted. Id just work through the pain.

And he'd say "see? It's not so bad. You can still do it.." in a tone that implied that he had done me a favour.

Being sick is an excuse: Episode 4

Perhaps not an illness, but he loved to praise my ability to operate when exhausted.

He took the fact that I could function on 2 - 3 hours of sleep as an invitation to push those boundaries.  For two years after my secrets had been divulged he said “It’s amazing you need so little sleep” and kept me at our his house until 4 am when I had to be at work for 9am.

I eventually lost that job (after I had officially cut ties thankfully) primarily because the HR department took my cry for help as an invitation to use my situation against me.  But I can’t deny that my serious and chronic lack of sleep affected my performance.

When I said as much, I was accused of pitting my stupidity at work on him.  I functioned just fine without sleep.  I was just making excuses.

Being sick is an Excuse:  Episode 3

I had mono about 9 years ago.  I was awake for 4ish hours a day, and just could not function for the rest.  He could have threatened me with a knife and I wouldn’t have woken up or moved.

I spent my 4 hours of consciousness taking care of him while he sat on his computer and played video games.  Cooked his dinner and lunches (I couldn’t swallow without immense pain, so I don’t think I ate?), did laundry, washed dishes, cleaned the bathroom, and then passed out.

Most people would help/comfort their partner.  Him? 

“Well if you’re going to be allowed to slack so much, you need to make up for it.”

I've started writing something. I don't know what it is yet beyond a story, but I'm pouring a lot of me into it.

I have a tendency to not finish projects, so it's unlikely that this will turn into anything. But I'll keep you posted.

He stole 13 years from me.

That's more than 1/3 of my life; 36% to be exact. I'd have to be in my 130s for that to drop below 10%.

The math hurts.

Weaponized incompetence. It has a name. Huh.