2/6/2019 Today is Wednesday and if it weren’t for being busy at work with so many nice people, I’d probably be crying in the corner somewhere. It’s hard to concentrate or give a shit about my work, but I’m 55 and have learned to fake it like a pro. I’m a great phony smiler and laugher, and I’m experienced at passing people in the hall with a hearty, “Hey, how ya doin’?” But inside, I’m destroyed. I’m trying to be strong and put it all in perspective, but I can’t seem to do it today.
It would help if my husband would apologize for being so insensitive and stupid.

It goes back to 2 p.m. yesterday, when I called at our scheduled time and my daughter once again ignored me. The last thing I said to her was to be mindful of the time zone, since I didn’t know where she’d be if she was going to be traveling back home. She said she automatically wakes up at 9; otherwise, she doesn’t prepare herself for our calls. She knows I’ll call on the dot. Even though that didn’t make sense, we had been texting awhile, so I thought we were OK. I said, “Well, it’s not like I’m giving you homework. No preparation needed except ‘hello?’” We had a few more pleasant exchanges and she said she’d fill me in during our call.

I called right on the nose, as expected, and it rang 10 times before going to voicemail. I couldn’t help it; I felt my heart physically sink. I realized I was taken again, my hopes were raised a few inches, and she got what she wanted. Pretty much, it was money.

I had to consider what I’ve done again. I’ve allowed myself to be hurt, disrespected, and duped. I keep thinking I’m smart and enter any interactions with my daughter with my eyes wide open, but I get sucker punched every.single.time.

Whenever these things happen to me, I suffer, mostly in silence. I hate drawing people into this because it’s got to be boring already. It’s painful and exhausting for me, so I try to go about my day. I finished the day, having texted my husband, my sister, and my other daughter, “joking” on the level that “oops, I did it again.”

I’ve discussed this with my husband many times so he can understand—how I feel abandoned, dismayed, disconnected, embarrassed, disrupted, like a failure, stupid, worried that she was dead or had overdosed . . . and very sad. So sad. I guess he didn’t take into consideration how I might feel when he did what he always does: he took phone call after phone call from his daughter, his son, his nephew, his mother, and then his daughter and son a few more times, while I fucking sat there. He took phone calls while we ran a couple of errands, he took phone calls in the car, in the stores (yes, plural), during dinner, during dessert, during watching TV, in the bathroom, and at bedtime. 
I was alone, so I just climbed into bed and read my book. He finally came to bed and laughed, “Haha, the first thing [his daughter] said was ‘tell [me] I’m sorry, but I had to tell you this.” It wasn’t quick—he stayed on the phone for a good half hour. I didn’t say anything, but it didn’t mean I was OK with it. Then he walked out of the room and I called, “Where are you?” and he didn’t answer. He came back in and suddenly asked, “What’s the matter? Wanna talk about it?” Before I knew it, he was picking on me and leaving for the couch. I said he could sleep in the bed; I would go into my office. It escalated pretty quickly to me yelling out of pure frustration. He was instigating a fight for no reason and pushing all my buttons, being so fucking insensitive that I couldn’t even look at him. I sequestered myself in our room, finished the last 100 pages of my book, and finally fell asleep. I half expected him to come in and apologize for upsetting me on an upsetting day, but he didn’t bother.

When I woke up this morning, he had prepped my breakfast, but fully acted like nothing had happened. That’s even more exasperating. I didn’t have time to argue any further, so I thanked him, ate, dressed, and left. He owes me an apology, some respect, and some compassion. I realize he’s better at doing acts of kindness than admitting fault, but I’ve seen him apologize to his sister, his mother, his daughter, his son when they don’t even deserve it . . . but never me. I get his tantrums.

I’m so depressed today, my hip is aching, and I’m on day five of a low-grade migraine. I have to go home in an hour and a half, and I don’t want to deal with my real life. I haven’t heard from my daughter, not surprised, and the chasm in my heart and soul grows wider and my husband is pushing against both sides. If it wasn’t for a perky phone call from my older daughter, I would be dead inside.