Headed to the couch

So I made my first ever appointment with a psychologist today. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous. I really have no idea if it's anything like in the movies where you really do sit on a couch across a coffee table to someone constantly jotting notes about stupid things you say.

I guess this calls for me explaining why I'm going...

Well, remember the previous post where I mentioned getting married back in June of '06? Yeah, so things there haven't exactly been peachy keen. Turns out the man I married is a wee bit different from what was 'disclosed' when we were dating and engaged. Sure, I've let some of my nasty habits hang out a little more now than I did when we were engaged. I mean, who doesn't hold that morning fart in when your fiance or boyfriend is visiting for the weekend? Lord knows I'd explode if I did that every day of my life! So now I just let 'er rip!

I can definitely deal with those kinds of things. He has 2 habits that get under my skin so bad, but are totally livable. He likes to scratch his balls like he is making money doing it. Seriously, if he was, we'd be friggin billionaires! And he also has the worst time remembering to flush the toilet. I've at least trained him to do it when he leaves a monster shit. But I don't know what's so hard about reaching for that shiny, silver handle after you saw a man about a horse. Really, it's not that hard. But again, I can totally live with those things. This other stuff, goes way beyond that.

He's a red-head. God bless him. I think if my great-grandma was 70 years younger and had a little more pep in her step, she'd have been all over that! haha! The woman loved his red hair. I do too. Minus that attitude, and you all know what I'm talking about. He has this quality about him that as soon as the smallest thing goes wrong, he blows up. I'm pretty sure I've actually witnessed his head exploding like he was in Men In Black. Unfortunately, anything that makes him blow up, makes him blow up at me. My family included.

He really doesn't like my family. Nope, not at all. They can be pretty crazy and overwhelming, but they really are amazingly wonderful people. I take issue with anyone that talks badly about any member of this universe that I share blood lines with. That includes my snobby husband. Tact is not a quality he was born with. Whatever crosses his mind is said. Unfortunately, he holds it all in until it's just he and I in the car or at home after everyone has left. He vents to me about how he can't believe my sister had the nerve to tell us she didn't like our paint color choice or how my mom is annoying for putting her 2 cents in. Or how my sister is NOT welcome in our house because she doesn't always take her shoes off. Or how my brother and his girlfriend (Charcoal as he so lovingly calls her) are not welcome because her parents smoke in the house so she smells like it and he doesn't want his house to smell like it.

Here's the deal - my family isn't perfect. I get it. But you sure as hell knew that getting into it. We are loud, obnoxious, eat a lot and have a damn good time doing it. They have, from day one, accepted you as one of their own because I chose you and if you were good enough for me, you were certainly good enough for them. Don't you dare tell me how horrible they are. Your family sure as hell isn't perfect either but you don't hear me bitching about them every day.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to want to visit them. Every.single.weekend. They are my family. I owe them my life, literally. And again, you knew that going into this. So deal or shut up. You don't have to go, I'll never force you in the car to go see my family. But don't you dare complain about me wanting to go. I have a right to go.

Sorry, that was a bit of anger surfacing. Anyhow, we have a few problems. He's convinced they are financial, I'm convinced otherwise. He refuses to go to marriage counseling (he gets that from his dad I found out this weekend) so I'll go by myself to at least keep my own head above water.

I realized this weekend after he held a butcher knife to his chest that I can't do this alone. And no matter what amazing support I get from my family and friends, I need some professional, non-jaded advice.