Today she goes to the therapist. She expects the therapist to tell me that I'm all wrong, that having friends of the opposite sex is the same as cheating, that April's more important than any job or promotion. That I need to kiss her ass every chance I get.

I have to go along on the off chance the therapist wants to talk to me in person. 

That didn't go so well.

For me, it was boring as all get out, I sat in a waiting room for an hour and a half, couldn't leave, couldn't go out to smoke.

And from what I gather, I had the good end of the stick.

April hates her therapist. Her therapist wants to concentrate on her lack of eating more than her insane jealousy, needyness or strong desire to ruin what's left of my life.

I figure one thing at a time, while it's not what I'd have chosen to focus on,  it's a start, and maybe if she starts eating right, she'll feel better mentally.

In the mean time, she's supposed to keep photos of the kids in her car, in case she gets self injurious thoughts again.

She's also supposed to chat with me from 12:00 until 1:00 (because that's when Kristin goes to lunch, supposedly). That way she will know I'm not out screwing Kristin over lunch. I agree to chat with her. I do most of the time any way. 

It's early on a Wednesday. I get a call from her, she's all distraught and I can't calm her down. She tells me that she's taken a bunch of pills.

I try to convince her to call an ambulance, but she won't. I go to my acting boss, Bill and tell him what's going on, thanks to her BS a few weeks ago, Bill is aware that she's not very stable. Bill advises me to call an ambulance for her anyway.

She calls while I'm in his office. I talk to her, she agrees over the phone that she'll force herself to throw up the pills if I come home. Bill lets me leave for the day.

I send the people who work under me an email that I've got a problem at home and will be out until tomorrow. Fortunately, there have been several leaks and other problems in my home over the years, so they don't question it.

When I get home, she's sleeping. She did not force herself to throw up like we agreed. Since it's over an hour later, I just let her sleep it off.

April's back to therapy. She hates her therapist and wants to change.

Since chatting w/ me from 12:00 to 1:00 didn't alter her perception that I'm screwing Kristin and only made problems worse, she's not supposed to chat with me at all while I'm at work. That's fine with me, since I'm supposed to be working and don't want to get caught wasting company time, especially since I'm up for this promotion.

She calls a therapist she went to before and thinks he's great. Problem is she can't get in until Feb 28.

Then we got on the subject of hotels, she wants to spend one weekend away before committing herself on Monday.

Clearly, if I go for a cigarette, I'll get in trouble again.

Me with April's hands wrapped around my throat. But I'll get to that part.

I woke up, watched some TV for a bit, crawled back in bed, woke her up, we had good sex as we almost always do. Afterwards, I took a shower, then I made pancakes. Lately I've been making about 20 or so pancakes and freezing them so the kids and I can throw them in the microwave in the morning for a good quick breakfast.

As I'm cleaning up, she starts in on me. How I'd rather have Kristin. I told her I don't want Kristin. She says "You can never say anything bad about her." I tell her there's no reason to do that, she has nothing to worry about.
She walks over, puts her hands around my neck and says "say something bad about her". I refuse. She squeezes. I can feel the pressure, but I'm not worried she'll hurt me,  she wants to, but she's not strong enough.

I hope.

April says "she's wrong! say it!". I say in a dwarf under a tow truck's wheel's voice "No, you're wrong!". I'm now thinking that this has gone way too far, I'll hit her with a frying pan. Then I think, if I do that, the cops will get involved, who are they going to believe? A 180 lb man with out a scratch on him, or a 125lb woman who just got whacked with a frying pan?

I break free, I grab the keys on the hook in the kitchen, head for the door. I'm planning to leave my wallet, normal set of keys, motorcycle, everything sentimental behind. I can not do this any longer. She tackles me. Not really tackles, more like a forced piggy back ride. I keep walking. She pulls me to the ground. I once again pull free, almost. She's got a death grip on my leg. I walk as well as possible towards the door. "You can't leave! You can't leave!". Well fuck honey, you wanted me dead a few minutes ago, what do you care if I leave?
She begs and pleads with me. She starts crying.

That stupid ass compassion comes over me, how is this crazy woman supposed to survive with three kids without me?

I'm the worlds biggest dumbass as I take her in my arms and comfort her. 

I've taken off work for the third time to take her to see her therapist. I'm expecting again to wait in the lobby patiently . To my surprise, when the therapist, Dr. D., introduces himself, he asks me to come in for the session.  This is just an evaluation, he's not going to make any recommendations today.
I sit during the session and mostly agree to the points April knows are causing problems. April is expecting Dr. D. to tell me that I am wrong about everything, I need to change and she's a perfectly normal woman with minor emotional baggage and everybody's got some luggage.

He asks me a few questions. One in particular I answered that "She wants me to entertain her. when she's not working and I am at work." Which she was mildly offended by. I clarified, while I don't recall exactly what I said, from my perspective when someone calls you on the phone and expects you to come up with things to talk about, "entertaining" is an appropriate use of the word. Cutesy "I just wanted to hear your voice" conversations don't last a half hour or more. She seemed to gloss over this and we moved on to my most loathed subject, my co-worker, Kristin.

Dr. D is great. He's very down to earth, he's caring and as I was warned by April, he tells it like it is. He uses a few examples from his own life and relationship and co-workers and the phrase "I didn't want to fuck her". That's the first person who earned a doctorate I've ever met that used the word "fuck" in a normal level headed conversation.

But that's not the best part.
He's going through her issues, April chimes in that I think it might be something. I  quickly state that I have no credentials or experience, but from everything I've read and seen, I think she has Borderline Personality Disorder.
Dr. D. says that he's considered that, but BPD sufferers have a shitload of failed miserable relationships in their wake.
At this point, I realize that going with the flow isn't helping anyone, but it is wasting money. I remind April that while she did discuss her "first", her ex, myself and Dick, one of the guys she cheated on me with, she left out John and Steve, bringing the number to six. I left out Harry because I knew we were running low on time  so that one would have to wait, the total number I'm aware of is seven. May not be a shitload, but a sizeable number.
He agrees on BPD as a secondary diagnosis to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

We say good bye, all seems well for now. 

I get up for work, she wishes me happy birthday.

I go to work, everything seems good. She sends me a text message

Happy Birthday!

CB 404 555-1212
Mar 1, 7:20 A.M.

between my part time and full time job. I call her on my way to my full time job, something's changed, her mood is pretty lousy. I talk to her to try to snap her out of it. She needs to get back to work, I let her go.

Then she starts chatting with me, she brings up the entertaining comment from the day earlier in therapy.

Then she brings up how I like to work on stuff and that I'd work on stuff all day in the garage if she'd let me, because yesterday after she went back to work,  I finished a project that was half done and it took that time plus another hour after she got home.

Then the shit really hits the fan. Appearantly, since it's my birthday, I'm supposed to ask her to go to lunch with me. But that's not the real problem. She feels that I'd rather go to work and spend time with my co-workers on my birthday than her. Which isn't the case at all, it's just that my birthday fallls in the middle of the week, I don't like to take days off in the middle of the week if I don't have to and I took the day before off to go to counsiling as my b-day.  Finally, she goes back to work.

Peace and quiet, but not for long.

She calls me during a slow spot at work, tells me that I have to leave and be home by the time she gets home or she's going to call my boss and get me fired. We argue back and forth, I give in. I have to bail on work and hour and a half early without authorization.

I leave, about halfway home, she starts in on me again, same shit. She says she's going out for a drive to cool off. I say good, she needs to cool off. I'll be home when she gets done. Then she starts in again. We fight over the phone until about a mile from the house, I tell her "this is the worst birthday ever, I got laid off on my birthday once, and you just topped it." she hangs up on me.

I'm furious, she's not home. I put the trailer on the car, load the motorcycle. It took longer than normal, the tires were flat since it's still winter and it hasn't been ridden since October. I'm about to put the straps on it, she pulls in the driveway.

She claims that she's just having a bad day and  she loves me, she got a cake, she was on her way to get a pizza from one of my favorite places. I tell her I'll wait for her to get back, she says "No, get in the car, you're not leaving".

I get in the car, she's driving like a bat out of hell. Madison is in the back seat, she's upset. I feel quite a bit safer in the car with Madison than without, because I know that April would never hurt Madison. Me in the car alone with her is a different story. I keep thinking how it would be poetic if I had gotten far enough away not to be followed.

So we get back, have dinner, stare at the cake. It was pretty rough for the rest of the night. Madison asked to have a slice, she is only 7, I cut a slice for her. I compliment the cake, how "Mommy picked a good one", the comment goes unnoticed.

I really don't remember what else went on that night. 

I said I never expected to get this promotion.

Now I've gotten confirmation that I'm not getting it. I can accept that. Who got it doesn't matter, that was a surprise though.

None the less, the reason surprised me in a way and not. April's behavior was the main reason. There were two minor points in my work history, a project that I let out "in the wild" too soon and one that's simply a thorn in my side and has been for years. If it wasn't for the main reason, I'd be getting an office with walls! And a door! And more money! and control over the hours I work! Oh well. I don't know how I can tell April this. I'm just going to tell her I didn't get it. 

Happy Belated Birthday.