Happy friggin New Year.

We are only two days into '09 and already I am wishing we could just skip it altogether. We decided that albeit a day early, we would test on the 31st. Our intent was to end the year badly rather than begin it that way if it was negative. The year did indeed seem to end badly as we watched one single line appear on the test. I just went back to bed.

That night, thanks to my own stupidity, we went to Dan and Dot's for our Eve celebration. It was either they came here, or we went there. I kicked myself in the ass the whole ride over to their house. He had demands that I considered very rude, but we complied and have since agreed that we will never go back over there again. We have also come to an agreement that they will no longer come to our house for a while. I can't deal with Dan's grumpy, demanding, controlling attitude.

As the ball prepared to drop, Hubby put out his cigarette. "That's it. That's the last one." Those words will haunt me for a very long time. I'm proud of him for wanting to quit. I want him to quit more than anyone. I quit three years ago, and have since come to despise his insistance to smoke in our home. I have to keep my crocheted treasures at my mother's house and I fight nicotine on the walls, television, computers, etc. I hate it. But, there is one thing I hate more.

This is a dark secret between only my wonderful internet friends and myself.

I hate when he tries to quit!

Hubby comes from a pretty difficult past. His father drank a lot and had a serious anger issue. He is wonderful now thanks to a new medication, but it still leaves scars on the faces of his children. My husband too, has an explosive anger at times and his words can cut very deeply into my heart.

Every year, he tries to quit and for days, we battle non stop. Nothing I do is good enough or right. I should clean more, or do more. I need a better job. He doesn't want what I cook but wants me to cook something right now. He paces around our apartment like a caged demon desperate to lash out at anyone that comes too close.

He usually makes it about twenty-two hours and then lights one up. "This is the only one," he'll tell me as he inhales deeply. A few hours later, he lights up another. He might actually make it a day and then he lights another. The difference in his behavior after one is unbelievable. As the craving sets in he taunts me and tries to find something to fight about. I cry, he screams, we struggle with every moment we spend together, and then finally he walks in the door holding a pack with several missing. Then it is all over and he aims for next year.

I try to be supportive. I truly do. I've been there. I know what it is like to quit. When I try to convince him that smoking one is a bad idea, he goes totally ape shit. He holds it over my head threatening to smoke one. When it finally gets beyond my control, I shrug and say, you know what, if you want to that bad, I can't stop you. Then he goes off on me for being unsupportive. It makes me want to scream! The sad thing is, he never makes it long enough for that crap to metabolize out of his system.

I want so desperately for him to quit. I want him to quit for his own health. I want him to quit for the health of our pups and our future children. I want him to quit for my own health's sake. Mostly though, I just want him to quit and this cycle be forever finished. I hate going through this every single year.

To go along with it, af is still mia, hubby is still getting crap for hours at work, school starts on Monday, and I feel like I haven't even begun to have a holiday yet. My tree still stands in its corner and I dare anyone to tell me I should take it down. I have turned off our outside lights, but the tree will remain for a few days more. I can't bear to see it's comforting glow turned off and boxed up.

I hope your new year began better than my own. Don't get me wrong, I have a ton to be thankful for too going into 2009. Right now it just seems like the bad is shielding me from the good.