It’s Christmas Eve.  I should be happy, right?

I’m crying as I type this.

Yet all day I have felt this deep sadness.  Sure I’ve smiled and acted like everything is okay.  I went to work and did my job and acted like everything was fine. 

I like Christmas.  I like the meaning of it.  I don’t like all the commercialization of it, but I do like giving gifts (if that makes sense). I’ve tried to be happy but I can’t.  For some reason, I just can never be happy at Christmas.  I don’t know why.  I should be.  I have a great family.  I have a lot to be thankful for. I’m not sure what’s missing.

It got worse when I got home from work.  My husband and I had an argument over some miscommunication.  It was my fault and I apologized but he’s still mad at me. 

I just want to sleep through the next two days.

Edit: My husband later apologized to me and said he wanted to spend time with me this evening.  So we were eating dinner and watching television together.  I was eating soup and went to the microwave to warm it up some more.  When I sat back down again, I spilled part of it, making a big mess, spilling noodles and vegetables everywhere, and burning my leg.  I yelled at my husband to go get some paper towels, not wanting to make a bigger mess by going to get them myself.  I wasn’t yelling because I was mad at him, but he misunderstood and thought I was mad when I was really hurting from the burn.  He laughed at me but when I kept insisting that he get the paper towels he got mad.  He said it was my fault for spilling it and that it wasn’t his fault and why should he have to get up from his dinner and television because I spilled soup?  I cleaned it up but he yelled at me the whole time about how he is sick of me. 

These kind of issues have been going on for awhile.  Finally something snapped in me and I just started yelling that I hated him (which I didn’t mean – I was really upset at the time).  He got in my face and yelled at me that he wants a divorce and that he sick of me.

I know this is partly my fault (me yelling at him and saying I hated him) but this is the kind of stuff that makes me wish I was dead.  I can’t handle my life like this with him….this is just one example of stuff that happens a lot.  Yet I can’t afford to live on my own.  This is where I feel trapped.

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