I was supposed to go to a SCA event this past weekend, which would have let me be around like-minded people, take some classes (exercise my brain), visit lots of friends and make more, and maybe most importantly, get out of the house. /sigh
But Sarah decided, at the last minute, that she'd rather sleep in. This, after I had stayed up late making her garb. Despite the fact that it was the only thing I'd be able to do on my birthday weekend, and throughout my life my birthday had been ignored or belittled. Despite the fact that I was enrolled in a brewing competition and several classes I really wanted to go to, and I really can't drive myself.
Despite the fact that I'd told several ride offers that I wouldn't need them, since Yay! My spouse was coming!
I was very upset. But it was really only the camel's straw.
Our landlady has been getting worse. She doesn't seem to understand that my titrating a medication like Topamax means that I'm really not up for much. Towards the end of the week, when I'm getting used to the new dose, I can get some work done in the garden (and it's looking good!). But I can't handle the dirty looks, and her telling me to get more done, or to just DO something, or to take a walk (especially on bad air days, when I wouldn't be able to anyway).
And she sits me down and orders me to tell my spouse to act more masculine. I'm sure she's telling Sarah the same thing, and the stress is getting to both of us.
I've looked, and we can get a studio or a 1-bedroom for the same or less than we spend here, heat, hot water, and electric included, but that would mean somehow getting a deposit, which would take months more of dealing with her, and dealing with her method of 'paid heat' (we cut & stack green wood, and tend the wood furnace).
I feel so trapped in this damned bedroom, and so fucking guilty for it, but what else am I supposed to do? Deal with her yelling at me when she's mad at her daughter?
I just want to run away, or go away, or have it all stop. I'm so fucking tired of always being in pain, of never being normal, of never having quite enough.
Damn it, if there was a Conversion Bureau, I'd take it.