Jekyll and Hyde

My husband's left arm popped out of his shoulder two weeks ago, while he was asleep. I was woken by his screams. I called the ambulance. Two paramedics came and gave him two shots of morphine, before they could twist his arm back into the socket. My husband has lived with this problem for decades, but it has always popped out while he was awake. That was the first time that it has happened while he was sleeping. 

Two years ago, the muscle tissues around his shoulder socket were severely weakened, if not destroyed. He was cutting down tree branches with an electric saw out in the backyard, when his arm ejected from his socket. It stayed out for several hours. I came home from an eventful day out with our little girl, to be greeted with his Frankenstein-ish wailing. He somehow got himself up to bed with his arm loose. He laid there in pain for hours, trying to fall asleep.

How is my husband going to go when we move into our new house? We were meant to pick up the keys to the house on the 1st of February. The owners are a week early; they are already prepared to hand over the keys. My husband has got all the insurances and utilities for the house in place, although our cardboard boxes remain flat and unused in the boot of the car. We are in a peculiar position, because we are not simply moving everything from this house to the new one. Because we are moving from Helge's house into our own, it is a game of subtraction. We have to decide if we are taking this armchair, that table. Decisions...

We plan to skip the removal company and organise the move ourselves. That is, the two of us and a toddler. Needless to say, I am dead scared that my husband's shoulder will give way during the move. The plan is that we pack down as many things as we possibly can, before Monday. Who knows if that will happen? We are quite good at procrastinating. But come Monday, we will fill the car up with boxes, drive for 35 minutes, unload the boxes, drive home and repeat the process. It might take up to seven trips, we reckon.

I guess my life will feel a lot more hectic in a matter of hours. I wish that I can say that I am excited for the move, excited to create a 'new' life with my family. But no. I wish that I can be one of those folks on Instagram that write in their captions, 'There is no one I would rather do life with, but you.' But that is just not the reality. My husband has been an asshole, again. Self-admitted, no less. His selfish behaviour makes me SO! mad! sometimes. But then I remember that my anger is a signal that my boundaries have been broken, and I feel grateful that I have something deep within me that wants to protect me.

I just told my husband today that I wish that there was a weather forecast app that I could use, to warn me of 'stormy days ahead', indicative of his mood swings and temperament. I told him that I don't do very well with his sudden displays of love and affection, after having put me in misery for days. Because I don't.

This post has gotten all kinds of depressing, but I still want to publish it. This is just one other thumb tack in the grand timeline of my ordinary life. If my reader has a husband that loves and dotes on her without fail, then she will be grateful for what she has. I am genuinely happy for her. On the other hand, if my reader has an occasionally vulgar and toxic husband, then at least she knows that she is not alone. It's a win-win for me.

I continue to work on myself, my habits and the things that I love to do. I am proud to say that I have been active at least 5 out of 7 days this week. 'Break a sweat' is the goal. 😅💦💪 I won't let my husband's mean demeanour break me. Never!

Anyway, I will say goodnight here. My beautiful baby is asleep on my lap. It is late after all. The next time I write, we would have gotten the keys to the house. So much would have changed. Or would it? Talk to you then.

Your anger is your friend,
Vivian