Downhill all the way.

This morning was a disaster.  There is definitely some bad karma clinging on to us just lately.  Either that or those nearly-married's (from last week's episode of how not to host a stag do) are genuinely cursed and bring it upon everyone else in the process. 

This morning it was their actual wedding.  I awoke ridiculously early, dropped Euan off at Telford AFC (he was playing a County game in Coventry), got everyone bathed, duly titivated and in the car by nine fifteen and was actually feeling like today had the potential to be great.   First mistake.  The second was letting Chris drive the car.  I had considered my decision deeply though, and determined that the alternative would be far worse....me driving and him slating my every move for the next two hours - never good for any relationship. 

All continued to move along nicely until we reached Junction 7 of the M6.   The M6 which in my opinion really does need to be renamed - to something providing an insight in to the traumatic experience travelling its path may cause.  The M Shitx perhaps. 

Anyhow we reached Junction 7 or just before and found everywhere was gridlock.  Not the usual congestion type gridlock, this was a Police-supervised-complete-standstill-accompanied-by-sounds-of-the-air-ambulance kind of gridlock which never bodes well.   Luckily though we had plugged our destination in to Tom Tom which then provided us with an alternative route.  We exited the M6 at J7 and drove thirty minutes across central Birmingham to join back at J6.  Quite frustrating as we now knew we would be late but these things happen don't they.  

So we're driving towards the slip road to re-enter the M6 and 200 metres ahead of us is a fork.  At this fork you can choose to go left (M6 North) or right (M6 South).   We want to go south so I make sure Chris is in the correct lane and then for some bizarre reason, known only to my husband and the little Alien creature that talks to him in his head, he decided to swerve from the south slip road to the north slip.  By then it is too late for us to change and we are stuck heading back towards the crash junction.

Now tell me what you would have done.  Honestly.

I shouted at him.  He shouted at me (and said it was my fault for taking my eyes off the road), I shouted back and so it went on, and on, and on until we reached J7 saw the backed up traffic and decided we may aswell just go home.  And I was fuming - in a rage so deep I could feel it right down in my gut which in hinesight was completely disproportionate.  I then turned in to a superbitch and ranted and raved continually until we reached Telford.  Quite frankly I don't know who I hated the most; him, or me for allowing myself to behave this way.  It finally dawned on me that I have changed.  I am not a nice person anymore (and I am not writing this to seek your assurance to the contrary).  I would have said a few years ago I was a kind, loving natured soul but that side of me is almost gone.  Lately I am moody, depressed, annoyed, irritable and downright rude.  It has been such a horrid two years in so many ways, ways which only someone in my position could really understand, that it has taken an expensive toll.

So now I'm left wondering what the answer is.  Quite clearly (to me) Chris and I are wearing each other down.  I know he can't help a lot of his behaviour but that doesn't make it easy to live with.  Just as I may have justification for being angry and frustrated at times but that doesn't cancel out the negative effects which result.  I am struggling to find a solution.  If I could be sure we'd be happier apart I would do it but when I look at all the second marriages I see around me, involving children that is, it's never a pretty picture. 

Anyway,  I went through all the possible options, Chris moving out, me moving out, where we could live, who would have the kids and when,  how we could split the finances etc but in the end came to the conclusion it was all too difficult so I have stuffed my face with a bar of Cadburys instead.  It's amazing how much better I feel.

So maybe Mr Cadbury isn't Satan after all.  Maybe rather he was one of those rare men who understand what women truly want and need.  

Right now I'm damned if I know myself.