Mood:  hungry

Complain, complain, whine, whine, blah, blah, blah -

Okay, now that I have gotten THAT out of my system.

It is 6:30 am as I begin typing this journal and I have been up for an hour. Yes, ravenous readers ready to digest the spew of my soul. What? Ick that was gross. Let's start again -

It is early. I went to bed late. I am tired. Fuzzy is my brain. My sentences are Hemmingway short. *screeching brakes*

Here it is and I am not awake, yet I am compelled to do something since going back to bed and facing the nightmare that woke me up isn't an option right now. It was awful. I guess with all the stuff that has been going on with Matt's parents and his youngest sister right now, it was inevidable that I would dream about something like this. My nightmare was about a very disobedient version of Michelle who attempted to hit me. She did hit me several times in the dream. Very hard and all the while cursing me and her father and God and everything. It was SO not Michelle, just some nightmare horror version of her. What scared the living shit out of me and made me get up get dressed, go to the bathroom and fear to go back to bed is...I lost it. My temper that is. I was so angry at this nightmare Michelle that after about the fifth time she slapped me and called me bitch and told her father to F*ck Off, I hauled back my arm, clenched my fist and punched her square in the face knocking her off her feet and sending her flying a good two or three yards. I knocked her out cold. And then, I looked at my fist in disbelief - anger gone - looked at a splayed out Michelle, out like a boxing match loser, quiet at last, and felt a sense of satisfaction that shocked me. I looked up and there was Matt, standing there frozen glaring hatred at me. That's when I woke up feeling like I had to puke and pee at the same time.

That's why I don't think I can go back to bed. See, I haven't really lost my temper in a long time. Sure. I have been angry. I have hollered and screamed. I have plotted revenge upon people and been gruff and angry. Hell, I've stomped around and slammed things, but I haven't hit another human being - really hit them in 18 years. *sigh* It takes a tremendously huge reason for me to really contemplate purposefully punching another person. That just is not me. I am not a bully and loathe senseless violence on the whole. 

The last time I purposefully hit someone was Jack Leach, my financee in October 1991. We were tickling each other (more he was tickling me) and talking about some serious stuff. I know; tickling and talking serious. I guess that was his way of putting me in a more receptive mood. Well, we stopped the tickling and the talking got rather intense. He then actually told me this story:

When he was in Germany in the Army after we had gotten engaged, he cheated on me. Not much of a story is it? Well it gets better.

Not only did he cheat on me with this woman who was also in the Army, but he got her pregnant. His time was up in the military and he was supposed to be coming home to me and we were supposed to get married. Instead, as this now pregnant mistress was still in the military and was being reassigned to Mississippi and was leaving Germany, Jack decided that instead of coming back to California to be with me, or paying to have an abortion of this child, he would re-enlist in the military, and marry this woman!

So, he sent his mother a letter telling her he was re-enlisting. He never contacted me at all. He and his buddy from Georgia went out shopping and bought this pregnant mistress an engagement ring. Meanwhile, back in the states I was still waiting for my engagement ring although we'd been engaged six months already.

Jack and this woman leave Germany, move on base in Mississippi and start living together. He sets up a home with her, starts making a baby room with furniture, everything. Spends his cash he got when he left the army on her and everything needed for the baby. Yet - they haven't gotten married yet. She starts to go out drinking without him and spending his money. He starts getting jealous, upset, and worried for the baby. This all happens within about four months of the letter he sends his mother. Finally, Jack tells this woman that he will not have her drinking and hurting the baby, seeing as she was four or five months along. She responds with, "Why do you care, it isn't yours anyway!"

Well, Jack said that he came to his senses and decided to come home to me. He left all of his possessions with her in Mississippi except a few things and his clothing. The $200 collectable art book I bought him for his birthday, his stero, everything. He did remember to bring a few personal items, such as a picture of this whore and the wedding set he bought for THEM.

When he got back he re-proposed to me and gave me HER ring. I didn't know this at the time. It was tight and I could hardly wear it. I felt awful because I thought that perhaps I had gained weight and my fingers were fat. Jack indeed told me that he thought I had gained too much weight and that I needed to loose it. He also started to have second thoughts about getting married - this was all before he told me the story I just related.

Well, I found the picture of this whore in his bag when I was looking for a pair of socks. He still hadn't fully unpacked since he had only been back in town for about two weeks and the place where he and his mother were staying didn't have any real furniture in Jack's room yet. I confronted him about this picture of him and this woman in his bag and that's when he told me that he cheated on my with her and that she was the reason that he was re-enlisting, about the baby, everything I just related - even about the ring I was wearing right that second.

I snapped. I lost it completely. I saw red like I can't even describe. I used my right elbow and as hard as I could I jabbed Jack in the temple - yes, the side of his head. He went down and stayed there for a while. I nearly kicked him in the crotch, but deciding against that I went down stairs, told Della what he said to me, and called my mother to come get me. I kept the ring, sold the gold but kept the diamond. It is now in Matt's wedding ring - HA!

But - that was the last time I ever struck a person. The last time I let my emotions get the better of me. Ten years with an mentally abusive husband and I never struck him. Even thinking of hitting a person brings almost instant tears to me eyes - really. Spanking a small child on the rump is very different - that's discipline and is nothing like what I am talking about. Discipline is controlled and never done in anger or rage.

Me hitting Jack was 'a woman scorned' kind of rage that I have only experienced like that once in my entire life. It frightened me that I could have killed him. In my anger when I elbowed his temple, I could have seriously injured or killed him. Even though he surely deserved a little pain for all of the pain he was putting me through - never - ever - do you do that to another human being.

Well - in this nightmare I experienced a kind of rage at Michelle I haven't felt since Jack. Nearly twenty years people. I can't remember exactly what Michelle had done - it was something about not only hurting Kyle and breaking stuff in the house, it was the slapping me several times, yelling at me, being disrespectful to her father, all that and more. It was so absolutely angering that I snapped. The red haze was there - out of nowhere. And I was satisfied when she was knocked out! That and Matt's look on his face was utterly frightening. Thank goodness it was just a nightmare, but eek, what does that mean for what could possibly be lurking in my subconscious?

It's 7:12 am and I am exhausted-tired and hungry. I am going to get something to eat and drown this icky feeling in Coca Cola sans the rum - besides - the rum is gone, remember.