No-penis November ended with a happy Thanksgiving, followed by Hotter resuming his nonsense of earlier in the month and my telling him I didn't want to be his wife anymore. It was one of the saddest and most necessary things I've ever done.
We're going to try to move on together as roommates and friends with benefits; neither of us has anywhere better to be right now and I think this month's financial exercise has taught him that his almighty disability check doesn't go very far in the real world. Nobody wants a legal divorce, which would mean he couldn't live here anymore, but not much else. Practically speaking, he WILL be getting a job, and I don't care if he has to wash dishes or be a creepy custodian somewhere due to the resume gap. As far as our relationship goes, the main three differences are that he no longer gets to try and tell me how to live/yell at me when the mood strikes, I will no longer sacrifice myself, my finances, or my time for his comfort and happiness (i.e. if he is in the hospital I will visit ONCE a day and get enough sleep to not hallucinate from exhaustion, if there is some situation up north that requires his presence he and his blood-family will have to figure out transportation, and if he forgets to call in a prescription he will walk to the pharmacy and get it his own damnself rather than cause me to leave work early or miss a chance at a shift), and there is no expectation of exclusivity (I have a hard time picturing it, but if anybody worth having ever wants a piece of me again I think it would be a really nice and affirming thing to feel wanted).
The Roommate, as he will now be known, has an appointment on Wednesday for an intervention that might help him a lot, and still one more round of testing to complete for his full neuropsych eval. I am no longer as optimistic that anything will make him not kick me when I'm down (I always said I wouldn't give up on him until the testing/treatment was completed, but his recent actions have pushed me closer to the edge than I've been in a decade and I had to cry uncle out of self-preservation), but if that does make a significant change in his behavior, we can always re-evaluate at that point.
It really irks the writer in me that after so much effort and sacrifice and love on my part, the marriage is most likely ending not in death but in him simply being a bitter asshole. It doesn't seem fair that someone who has overcome so much to find love should then lose it again, on either of our parts, but then life's not fair.
The main thing I felt, in the end, upon spending November considering his being "DONE!" at the beginning of the month was relief, though, so I think this will be good, or if not good, then at least BETTER.
What is it about seven years, anyway?