Raised By Wolves.

Occasionally, when my husband has done something that seems completely insane, and I start asking him where in the world he got the idea that his behavior is anything like acceptable for a grown man, he will talk and talk and talk in that addict-ass way he has:

Well, I mean, I just thought that, it's funny how, hold me, I just need some space, can you buy me things, I don't feel like, I just thought you could, and I was thinking that maybe I could just, I need, why do you always try to control me, can I borrow $300,

etc.

And then I remember that he really might not know better. He grew up with parents in active addiction for much of his childhood...shuffled back and forth from relative to relative during the worst of it and left home to take care of himself during the better times. He's living like he knows.

I love his parents, in spite of the heavy baggage he's carrying on their behalf. They have always welcomed me into their home and shown me love and support during these last few months when I've needed it badly. And, it's probably important not to excuse unacceptable behavior by blaming his present mess on his sociopath camp of a childhood.

But it happened, and it hurt him, and it helps to explain things...when I find him howling at the moon, I try to remember that he was raised by wolves.

My Raw, Read Heart.

I cross my heart and hope to die.

It's one of those days when all I want is to go home and hide under the covers. Sometimes, it feels like we've been in survival mode for far too long.

Wait...we've been in survival mode for far too long.

Panic is becoming my baseline emotion. It's not safe, anywhere. There's no one to trust, and I feel like I have to hide everything, everywhere I go, from everyone. I'd like to go away, or get rescued and taken away, but I can't.

I've got bills.

And sometimes, I really feel the world shrinking. I could take a pin from the inside of my mind and just barely pierce the surface, and all of this would dissappear. I want my mental real estate back. I need to do some evicting.

I went to check out a few martial arts schools. At one, they only spoke Spanish and only taught kids. At another, they aren't open for a week. I'll check it out next week. There's a third that I'm going to drop by either tonight or tomorrow. I need to bust someone's ass, or I'm afraid I'll get lost in these emotional badlands.