A Thing Thing

I realise that my posts have often been depressing and complaint ridden. Alas, I can find no other easy outlet for my ongoing frustrations beyond laying them on your shoulders. My current rant (that you are reading, pour souls) begins and ends with my lady Sandra.

Lately, my wife has begun to remember another assault on herself. This one was committed when she was a bit closer to sexual maturity, when she was in grade eight. This has set our relationship back a fair ways in terms of many things. Lately, she has be having difficulty being in the same bed with me (let alone being intimate). And I now have another individual who needs to be beaten with a baseball bat with a railway spike through it.

I do not blame my wife for the difficulties that she is having. In what way can any of this be her fault? We have a saying her and I. "Its not a good thing; its not a bad thing; its a thing thing." Some times something just is and it has no moral value. A rock, a sense of humor or freckles are not good things or bad things. They just are. In a similar vein, I must remind myself that this is not her fault, nor is it my fault. It is like a car crash where a drunk driver walks away, while the occupants of the other car are injured permanently. Except these acts do not even have the tenuous excuse of "I was drunk at the time."

In the future I hope to have a string of more positive posts. Until then, thank you for allowing me on your couch.