mini vent

Mom continues to improve, slowly. Her stay in extended care was brief -- the room was shared by another patient, and it ended up causing both of them more stress, having various family members here and there at all hours. So she's back in a private room, still trying to eat solid food successfully. Sigh. I have a horrible fear that she's never going to leave the hospital ... and it's weighing me down a lot more than I'd care to admit.

Something is "off" at home, too. Tony and I are growing less and less tolerant of each other. It's mostly my fault, I'm sure, because I tend to shut down sexually when over-stressed. He's just the opposite -- it's the ultimate stress buster for him, so he's really going insane. This causes him to make rough comments, which then causes me to get pissed and shut down even more. It's a hell of a cycle that I've got to figure out how to break. We had a rather ugly row Friday morning, but as the day progressed, decided it best to clear the slate and face the evening as if the morning hadn't happened. It worked, for the most part. There was a snide remark here and there (mostly by my ass, I'm ashamed to admit), but it was a decent night. The rest of the weekend was fine, too. Nothing to write home about ... but that underlying current of tension was there. I felt it this morning, too, but didn't say anything. I was very hung over yesterday and had a small sore throat, so I wasn't really in the mood for much. I was in bed with a book by 10:30, and I'm sure that wasn't the most popular choice with Tony. He didn't say anything, and neither did I, but on the way to work this morning I just felt tense. I hate it.

During Friday's row, he suggested I find a therapist to help me deal with my internalized anger and how I let my health issues interfere with what should be a normal, healthy sex life. I think he's right. I'm asking my co-worker today (a psychologist) for a referral. I hate feeling this helpless. And I have plenty to talk to a therapist about, that's for sure.