I have to take today with a grain of salt (or, as my father sometimes says, a salt block) and discover that in spite of the shittiness it truly was, I need to treat it as a day to reflect on human behavior, stress, and my own self-control.

The number of times I cried today is more than I've cried in months.

My father had to convince me that it really, truly, wasn't me. That I wasn't the socially awkward, outing-ruining bitch my husband made me out to be. He took me out of a well-to-do restaurant to ream me a new one. When it took all I could to not cry or yell at him in front of his family, patrons, and staff. Then when I did what I thought was right, I was being a flirtatious whore (my words, not his) who made him jealous.

This is just a bump in a long road. All I could think to do was run away or hurt myself. Neither are an option now. Chagrin sometimes for knowing that, embracing the 'right' way.

I am not making this out to make Travis the bad guy. He is under a lot of stress, none of it I understand or even knew until it was explained to me by someone not in the situation.

All I could do was blame myself, when in reality, I did a good job. Try selling it to me. I'd love to buy it.

What makes me so upset now is knowing that I wasn't incorrect, but still feeling like I was at fault. And knowing I'm still in trouble, for invisible injustices.

If you ever read this Travis, you made me feel an inch high after two years of telling me how tall and admirable I was. It was deplorable. I'm sorry you hurt. I'm sorry I was the one you chose to take your anger out on. I'm sorry you thought I was ruining your sister's big day. And I'm sorry you're so mad at me. I tried. I really did. I just want to shudder and piss in the corner. I hope that's what you wanted. And I hope you realize your folly later, but not too late to make it right.