Christmas was a washout - DH's contribution to the event was to (1) go out and get a tree (as requested not off own back) and (2) buy a bicycle bell for dd1's new bike (again, as requested). He didn't buy a single present for the children or his family, wrap a present, help decorate the tree, etc - just sat on the sofa watching tv watching me do it all incl putting the bike together.
I felt positively suicidal on Christmas Day - he disappeared half way through the children opening their presents to go to the car to wrap my presents (3 books, one I have read, one he wanted and one he should know better would not interest me in the slightest).
Lunch was picking at the chrildren's left over poached fish (what they wanted) and dinner was abit of salami and palma ham with bread sticks. I have to say by supper time I was so upset that anything else would have made me vomit. His defense is that I said that I wasn't hungry - when your whole Christmas has been spent with someone who makes scrooge look festive (pre ghost visit) you wouldn't be very hungry either.
I did manage to salvage something of the day by taking the children out to feed the ducks and go to the park. They are only young (2 & 4) but he could have at least made some effort for them - the day was honestly like any other day but with presents for the children in the morning.
I didn't want any big presents - all I really wanted for him to acknowledge that its my Christmas as well. Had to wait until the evening to phone my family and (as usual) pretend that I had a good day so not to upset my mum.
Am I being unreasonable in thinking that he could have made abit of an effort.
I feel that this is really just another example of where I come last. Had a huge row this morning (I've come into work to escape) because I wouldn't have sex. Frankly I don't particularly want to sleep with someone who only shows me affection when he has an erection. The odd kiss and cuddle at other times would be nice.
I know that he does really love deep down and I love him but I'm so unhappy. I seem to spend my whole time lying to him, myself and everyone else that I am happy and things are great. Inside I am crying half the time and the other half I am usually too tired or resigned to the situtation to care.
I know that I am not perfect but I am fed up of this always being my fault - in over 15 years I think that I can count on one hand the number of times that he has appologised or admitted fault (whole or partial).
This morning he asked me if I wanted him to move out. Don't know what to say - threw up twice on way to work at the thought of this.
I don't know what to do - I just want to be happy again. Things are so bad that I have had suicidal thoughts but wouldn't do anything as I wouldn't put my daughters through that (my dad committed suicide when I was 20).