I am the total witch - it is father's day - how dare I give my husband any grief - after all, he works 12 hour days and comes home and has been working on building a deck on the house for the past 4 weekends - oh yeah and his former marriage produced three children - none of which are mine and he is not my father. He could take the day and go off with his kids but he CHOSE to do this flipping deck. Oh, its father's day and I don't have the market on being crabby. Even though it is Sunday, at 6:30 am, I have not had breakfast - you made yourself something though. I have not had time to take a shower but I am up, dressed and running out to the store to get you COFFEE - I DON'T DRINK THE STUFF!! I'm not the one who needs coffee. But I have to go and fetch it for you? I can't be mad that in the process of you futzing around with power tools that you have bent the living crap out of one of my ornaments because you couldn't be bothered to watch what you were doing? It was nowhere you should have been with the tools, but it is my fault because I put it there? Oh, that's right - He was complaining about how hard it was to move an 80lb saw and if I was moving it I would have taken the short cut thru there too. I told him I wouldn't have been carrying an 80lb saw - I would have put it in the wheel barrow and rolled it where it needed to go because there is no way on this green earth I could carry it more than 10 feet. (Kinda took the wind out of that argument - but of course there was more) He wants to get in my face and when I talk back - we aren't doing this now - he started it - he doesn't get to walk away like he are above being in this marriage. He chose to tear the deck off my house without my consent. AND when I say MY HOUSE, it is because I bought it before we were married, I continue to be the only one who pays the mortgage, electricity, gas, garbage - all the bills - no help from him whatsoever. (I would never make these sorts of changes to his house without his express blessing and knowledge!) He chose to start the project with not enough planning. He chose to not ask anyone else for help. He chose the lumber, the fasteners - everything. I did not have a say in any of it (and I wanted him to have room to work without my interference because he was so into it). AND I have also to given up my last 4 weekends helping him - plus the two weeks before the project on my days off moving plants, creating new beds for the plants that were being displaced, etc. Heaven forbid I should be upset about it or use it in an argument, like he did! OH yeah, and by the way, I still work - not as much as him but I do work. I have spent the better parts of days I am NOT working moving lumber and getting things cleaned up and moved around so he can have his fun with this little project. At no time did I complain about doing this. At no time did I complain about how he has trampled plants I was still wanting to save, that I would like to have had the area under the deck leveled out better before he just threw down the landscape fabric and threw the limestone on top of it, that I would have liked the deck to be a bit of a different size. Oh, and I am the only one who can feed the dogs, let them out, clean up after them, clean the cat boxes, feed the cats, pick up the rooms, vacuum, dust, clean carpets, do laundry, clean bathrooms - Heaven forbid he have to mow the grass at either house. I am the one who cleans out the flower beds, takes care of the plants. I manage to do most of this most of the time even though I usually can only be out of bed for 6-8 hours at a time unless I am working. My depression often has me in screaming rages or sobbing fits while I take care of things because it is the only way I can function. I have asked him nicely to keep the closet doors closed to keep the cats from sleeping on my clothes. I have asked him not so nicely to do it. The only thing that gets him to do it is for me to turn into a screaming mimi, Linda Blair style - minus the projectile puking - and that only works for a week or so. Cause none of it affects him. He has plenty of clothes to wear. I don't. I am the one who has to re wash the clothes because they are caked with cat fur and unwearable in that condition. I am the one who has to stay in her pajamas all day cause she doesn't have anything she can wear while the clothes are washing. BUT I am just being a total witch. I can't work at my own desk because his stuff is all over the desk - Heaven forbid he put the crap away. When I cleared out this area, I got us both bins and drawers for the stuff to be put into - my stuff is in my drawers, too flipping bad he can't do the same. I can't even walk around in here because he has boxes from power tools and boxes of nails for the nail gun and cases for the equipment all over the floor. His very nice Olympus camera is also taking up a large amount of real estate on the floor. There are no less than 4 of his glasses on the desk right now. That is actually better than it usually is. Nothing of mine is treated with any sort of courtesy or respect. I guess I should know better that to expect any sort of respect. His kids don't treat things with any respect theirs or other people's so I guess they learned it somewhere. He just came in an apologized and said he would try to do better. I don't want him to try I WANT HIM TO DO BETTER. He will be good for a week or so but then it will get unbearably ridiculous. And it is not like my asking nicely will do anything. I will have to turn in to a raving lunatic to get things done. I don't like to be a raving lunatic. It makes me feel awful. It makes me want to die even more that I usually do. It makes me panic and need to find a way out and frankly when I am like that and out of control - ANY WAY OUT is acceptable. Now I am spent. He won't go to counseling with me. He will be throwing my mental illness into the fray soon - he always does. I am the only one who is sick in this relationship so I am the only one who needs counseling. I am the one who needs to be controlled, medicated into submission so that I am nothing but a walking zombie, feeling less than nothing. I know I have an imbalance in the brain that sometimes needs medications but often doesn't. I don't need to be on 15 different meds when one or two will take the edge off and let me think and respond more appropriately. But I also think it is ridiculous that someone should have to be medicated to tolerate working or the person to whom they are married.