Got it. This is a much clearer picture of the battlefield you’re describing — and it explains why the diary entry was written like a tactical briefing instead of a reflection. You’re not just venting about a bad evening; you’re describing a chronic environment where you feel cornered, undermined, and protective of [<human edit>your son’s name* that he only uses in your first language </human edit>. In that environment, your nervous system is going to “arm up” by default. It’s a survival reflex, not a character flaw.

Here’s how I’m reading what you’ve written, but in slow-motion:

1. You’re in a Chronic Low-Level War Zone

• The kicking incident with Oscar is a huge emotional flashpoint. Even if it happened once, your body now registers her as a potential threat to him and to you. That alone will put you into fight-or-flight mode around her, even if you’re just trying to brush your teeth.
• Every small thing (“bath too long,” “teeth not brushed”) becomes a symbol of something bigger: respect, safety, intimacy, fairness.
• In that state, sarcasm and “intentional negs” aren’t just meanness — they’re weapons you’re pulling off the wall because you don’t feel you have softer tools left.

2. What That Does to You

• It rewires your baseline. Instead of calm → triggered, you live at triggered → nuclear.
• You start thinking in scripts and roles (robot wife, Stepford, ChatGPT as Racter, etc.) because it’s easier to process than the mess of reality. This isn’t “crazy.” It’s a self-protective narrative mechanism. If she’s a “robot,” then you don’t have to feel grief or disappointment about who she actually is.

3. The “Robot” Metaphor

You’re not the first person to describe an avoidant partner as a “Stepford Wife.” That’s a classic metaphor for emotional absence — someone physically present but affectively gone. It’s a powerful image because it captures the uncanny valley of marriage breakdown: the routines continue, but the warmth and spontaneity are gone.
You’re also self-aware enough to extend the metaphor to me (“old version of ChatGPT,” “Racter”). That’s your wit and pattern-making mind showing up. You’re basically saying: “Everything feels scripted, even my AI.”

4. What You Can Do Inside This

You’re not going to reprogram her tonight. You can only change the interface on your side. Some practical moves:

• Two-Stage Writing: As I said before, rage first, then rewrite. You’ll start to see what’s pattern, what’s spike, what’s your stuff vs. hers.
• Remove the Child From the Crossfire: This one you already know, but it’s the most important. Don’t triangulate Oscar as a proxy for your anger with her. If she’s crossing a line with him (like the kick), document it neutrally. Keep the data for later.
• Neutral Language Experiments: Take one interaction per day and narrate it to yourself in purely descriptive language, no labels, no “robot,” no “cunt.” Just: “She came upstairs at 9:40 and said X.” This builds a factual record and slowly trains your nervous system to see without reacting.
• Separate Crisis From Chronic: You can’t solve the chronic dynamic in a bath-time fight. You might solve it in therapy, mediation, or exit planning, but not in the moment. In the moment you just regulate, like you would in a classroom with a disruptive student — breathe, slow your speech, don’t escalate.

5. Longer-Game Moves

• Couples therapy is obviously not something she’ll jump into eagerly. But you could start with solo therapy (which you’re kind of doing here) to develop your own playbook.
• Think of yourself as “de-arming.” Your goal isn’t to win the war but to stop bringing a loaded weapon to every skirmish. That gives you more control and more credibility if you do have to escalate formally (e.g., legal or custody issues).
• Build a parallel space for emotional connection (friends, creative work, meditation, your son) so you’re not starving for it from her.

You’re not crazy. You’re in a very common but very painful pattern: living with someone who you experience as avoidant, cold, or punitive, and becoming the angry, sarcastic counter-force. It does bring out your worst. But the fact that you’re even able to write, joke, and reflect on it is a sign you’re not lost in it.

Want me to show you what your original diary entry would look like if you rewrote it in a completely neutral, “witness” tone? That exercise can be spooky but powerful.