Alcoholism and Abuse Go Hand in Hand

I'm so full of rage, I don't even know what to do anymore - how to handle so much anger, so much emotion.

Sometimes I look at him and glorify him; I believe, in that moment, that I do truly love him and maybe everything will be okay, that we can get through this all. I look at him and believe he is wonderful. I need him. I need him to love me, to hold me, to kiss me, to whisper I love you.

But then, other times - most times - I am full of anger, hatred, disgust, and fear. They say when you love someone, you come to love their little quirks - you know, those small things that make them tick, that occupy their time, their mind. His quirks, well, they just anger me. Annoy me. how he eats. The way he paces. The noises he makes when he sleeps. The smirk always present on his face, night after night, when the bottle is empty. The list goes on and on.

In the moments I am tricked into believing that all will be okay, that he loves me, that I love him, I remind myself of the other times. The times, more frequent than the loving times, that he puts down my opinions, tells me I'm wrojg, embarasses me, calls me names, strikes me for upsetting him. Bitch. Whore. Slut. Cunt. Why don't you shut the fuck up, cunt, you're embarrassing yourself and, more importantly, you're embarrassing me in front of my friends, fuck.

I am always on edge, constantly tip-toeing over eggshells, afraid I might upset him, might say the wrong thing, might accidentally offend him again, might fall victim to abuse again. I hate that he has the power to make me feel so weak, but I feel there is no escape. Other than death. Which, despite my previous posts, I feel I'm not quite ready for yet.

Yet.

This has gone on for 11 months, our anniversary this week. Almost to a year. Not to mention, the previous few times we dated for a few months here and there.

I never used to be afraid, an occasional slap or some bruises never bothered me much. However, after waking up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, to him on top of me, hands around my neck, yelling die, bitch, fucking die, you piece of shit, I'm quite a bit more nervous now.

The obvious answer is to leave him, but it's not so simple a situation. Which leaves me here, again sitting in silence as he angrily ignores me, save for the rude and degrading comments occasionally muttered in my direction. It leaves me alone and desperate and forced to type away my thoughts and feelings in hopes they will never return.