Today, my husband had the same morning fit as he had last Wednesday; it was the same fit that he apologized for so beautifully on Friday.
He doesn't feel good. He didn't want to walk to the methadone clinic. He did clear up for me, however, that the word he was using was "heartless."
He woke me up at 4:30 in the morning to pick a fight about how he needed a ride, and he threw a huge fit when I said, "No."
I know better than to try to understand. I know his behavior doesn't make sense. I do, though, want it to make sense so much. We have one more week until this two week trial of him living with me again is over. I promised myself I'd let him have these two weeks, no matter what they looked like, and if I found him to be unbearable at the end of it, I'd do whatever it takes to make him go away. I don't know if I'm truly ready to do whatever it takes, but I have to sleep. I have to be able to get rest on the nights I work late. I have to be able to have some peace, and it's rapidly becoming more important to me than hanging on to the remnants of this relationship.
I love him. I do not doubt that I love him. I am still deeply in love with him. It's kind of my worst fear, that I will still feel such a strong physical pull to him, but I won't be able to live with him, and maybe it's going to come true.
He told me that he was sorry this morning before I left, but I don't know if sorry is enough anymore. The behavior has to stop, especially the behavior that affects my daily life so strongly. My basic needs for sleep and sanity in my home are more important to me than anything right now. I have a lot going on, and I need my strength to be able to cope. He's sapping my strength.