I had a feeling something was wrong, ever since last Friday I just knew things weren't okay. Now he comes clean, and I've been asked not to talk about it. So I ruminate. And I cry. And I try to figure out how things are going to play out, but I can't. I can't know. It's all on him. I can't influence this, I'm not in control. I don't know what to do anymore.
So the tears are dry, and all I can do is hope that he'll figure this out, stand by his side as he works through the shit storm he created, and pray that the girls and I will come through unscathed. All trust in him is gone. God, this is a fucked up thing to have to deal with when I already have 2 babies to care for. I had hopes for staying home with the girls, but can I give up my job now?
I am so hurt and disappointed. Please don't ask for details, just know that my life became so much harder today, and I'm trying to respect his wishes to deal with it himself. That may not last, but I have to give him a chance.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
January 23, 2009
June 25, 2008
I'll Take What I Can Get
After almost 8 years, I've given up the hope of changing him. I'm realizing that regardless of what I do, he's not going to be ready for it until he sees how he is hurting himself and the people who love him.
Maybe I am setting up a pattern by allowing him the easy way out. I don't insist that he apologize to me when he messes up, because it's fruitless. I allow him to apologize in his own way, by physically doing things, rather than verbally. As long as we are both aware that he messed up, I'm okay with that, because I know I can't make him remorseful. I could insist that he say he's sorry, and very often he does without prodding, but when those certain things happen, when he is intentionally mean or neglectful, I don't ask for an apology.
Maybe I should.
I know there are some things he will cop up to, some things he may be too ashamed to apologize for, and other things that his pride and his culture don't allow him to apologize for. But I know when he regrets his actions. And he makes an effort to make it up to me. I see the same thing in my brother, how he won't say he's sorry, but he'll bring over dinner. Am I wrong for letting them get away with that?
Wouldn't it be wrong for them to insist that I apologize in a way that is acceptable to them, as men, rather than what makes me, as a woman, truly show that I am sorry? Is there a difference between the two, other than interpretation of the actions? I'll take what I can get, and I feel satisfied for the moment that he has apologized, in his own way, which happens to be much more useful to me than a verbal plea for forgiveness. It would be nice to hear it more often, but it would also be insincere, because that's just not how he expresses himself.
I'm taking the good with the bad. All I can control are my own actions and reactions.
Maybe I am setting up a pattern by allowing him the easy way out. I don't insist that he apologize to me when he messes up, because it's fruitless. I allow him to apologize in his own way, by physically doing things, rather than verbally. As long as we are both aware that he messed up, I'm okay with that, because I know I can't make him remorseful. I could insist that he say he's sorry, and very often he does without prodding, but when those certain things happen, when he is intentionally mean or neglectful, I don't ask for an apology.
Maybe I should.
I know there are some things he will cop up to, some things he may be too ashamed to apologize for, and other things that his pride and his culture don't allow him to apologize for. But I know when he regrets his actions. And he makes an effort to make it up to me. I see the same thing in my brother, how he won't say he's sorry, but he'll bring over dinner. Am I wrong for letting them get away with that?
Wouldn't it be wrong for them to insist that I apologize in a way that is acceptable to them, as men, rather than what makes me, as a woman, truly show that I am sorry? Is there a difference between the two, other than interpretation of the actions? I'll take what I can get, and I feel satisfied for the moment that he has apologized, in his own way, which happens to be much more useful to me than a verbal plea for forgiveness. It would be nice to hear it more often, but it would also be insincere, because that's just not how he expresses himself.
I'm taking the good with the bad. All I can control are my own actions and reactions.
June 22, 2008
Delayed
I can't bring myself to write a beautiful letter to my sweet angel this month, when things are crumbling.
I thought we were doing better. He's hiding something, some fear, or hurt, or anger, and I can't do anything about it because I don't know what it is. Maybe his way of dealing is to take care of my physical needs, and neglect my soul, but it's driving us apart and right now, I don't have the energy to change the dynamic.
I'm pretty sure it will be okay. I'm not positive, but I can't sacrifice myself, my mental health, my pregnancy or my daughter's happiness to heal him. I can't do all those things a wife "should" do, hoping it will make him happy, because beneath it all, there is still something I can't reach. There is something in him that will always make him miserable, and I'm not the one to fix it. I can't.
He can't be healed until he is ready to ask for help. He is spiraling downward, and my fear of him hitting rock bottom comes out in flashes of anger and spite. I don't hate him, I hate his inaction, his self-medicating, and his insistence on being close to me in a way that I can't reciprocate when I am hurting too. I'm scared what this means for us in the long run. It was bad a few years ago, and it's getting steadily worse. We have our reprieves, many weeks and months have been great, but I can't figure out the trigger that causes it all to come rushing back.
He agrees with my brother that I am weak for believing in God and studying psychology. They all think they are the masters of their own universes, but they are all fucked up in the head and can't see past their own BS. At least I am working on my issues, and I feel like I'm improving, but it's hard to maintain those changes under the stress of dealing with someone steeped in denial. I've found myself reacting to him lately, and I hate it. I hate letting him get to me, letting him hurt me, then punishing him for it. I'm not in a great state of mind now, and I don't want to subject my unborn child to these rushes of hormones and anger and hurt.
I don't want to take a step back and watch him drown himself. But I can't be so close and feeling so helpless and manipulated. Both sides of the fence have shriveled up crab grass, so I'm trying to balance on it, making my way South, or maybe North, somewhere else, anywhere else, until things get better. I'm not depressed, just stuck and scared, and waiting for the last stone to crumble so we can pick up the pieces and rebuild a life together.
I thought we were doing better. He's hiding something, some fear, or hurt, or anger, and I can't do anything about it because I don't know what it is. Maybe his way of dealing is to take care of my physical needs, and neglect my soul, but it's driving us apart and right now, I don't have the energy to change the dynamic.
I'm pretty sure it will be okay. I'm not positive, but I can't sacrifice myself, my mental health, my pregnancy or my daughter's happiness to heal him. I can't do all those things a wife "should" do, hoping it will make him happy, because beneath it all, there is still something I can't reach. There is something in him that will always make him miserable, and I'm not the one to fix it. I can't.
He can't be healed until he is ready to ask for help. He is spiraling downward, and my fear of him hitting rock bottom comes out in flashes of anger and spite. I don't hate him, I hate his inaction, his self-medicating, and his insistence on being close to me in a way that I can't reciprocate when I am hurting too. I'm scared what this means for us in the long run. It was bad a few years ago, and it's getting steadily worse. We have our reprieves, many weeks and months have been great, but I can't figure out the trigger that causes it all to come rushing back.
He agrees with my brother that I am weak for believing in God and studying psychology. They all think they are the masters of their own universes, but they are all fucked up in the head and can't see past their own BS. At least I am working on my issues, and I feel like I'm improving, but it's hard to maintain those changes under the stress of dealing with someone steeped in denial. I've found myself reacting to him lately, and I hate it. I hate letting him get to me, letting him hurt me, then punishing him for it. I'm not in a great state of mind now, and I don't want to subject my unborn child to these rushes of hormones and anger and hurt.
I don't want to take a step back and watch him drown himself. But I can't be so close and feeling so helpless and manipulated. Both sides of the fence have shriveled up crab grass, so I'm trying to balance on it, making my way South, or maybe North, somewhere else, anywhere else, until things get better. I'm not depressed, just stuck and scared, and waiting for the last stone to crumble so we can pick up the pieces and rebuild a life together.
April 21, 2008
He still thinks he did a lot more than he really did.
P: So are you getting an epidural this time?
Me: No...
P: What the F*ck?
Me: Well, I already know I don't need one, and anyway, think about all the problems it could cause for me and the baby!
P: You're having this one alone, this time.
Me: Yeah, because you totally pushed Taryn out for me, right?
P: Exactly.
Me: No...
P: What the F*ck?
Me: Well, I already know I don't need one, and anyway, think about all the problems it could cause for me and the baby!
P: You're having this one alone, this time.
Me: Yeah, because you totally pushed Taryn out for me, right?
P: Exactly.
March 25, 2008
Where I Ramble Emotionally About Marriage
I don't know how to wrap my head around the feelings I have when a couple splits up. Part of it is fear, how can P and I expect to maintain a marriage if they couldn't do it? Part of it is worry, because what if they are making a mistake? Did they go to therapy? Did they try hard enough to work it out?
And part of it is envy. To be willing to do something like that to make each other happier. I don't think P and I are mature enough for that.
I'm not talking about envy in the sense that I wish I were single, I can't imagine having to deal with the BS of dating again, of searching, waiting, and in the end having the same issues that we have now. I like the routine we have in our lives, I like the challenge of breaking out of that routine every once in a while to do something exciting, but then to be able to fall back into the comfort of a long-term relationship.
But I envy valuing myself enough to take that plunge into the unknown (though for this particular couple, who were married later in life and already knew the single life, I guess it's not really unknown), to give up so much that I had worked for in the last few years to start over, hoping for something better. I don't doubt that they still love each other, but it wasn't working, and they decided to call it quits.
At times I have thought it would be easier to be single, to do it alone, and do it my way, but I'm willing to sacrafice control in order to maintain what we've built together. The rough times have thus far been temporary. Yes, there are lingering issues, but when I took my vows I meant them. I'm not giving up without a fight.
In the larger context, I think that a lot of people are giving up too soon. This isn't a judgement, because there is no way I will ever know all the dynamics of the relationship, I can never know all the bits and pieces they brought to their union, and how hard they fought to make it work. I do know that a lot more people are getting divorced now compared to 30 years ago. I do know a lot of children are suffering the loss of a parent.
And I also know that the divorce process is easier than trying to work it out.
But I'm bummed out. I never saw it coming. I thought they were one of those quirky couples who, although very different from each other, they were madly in love after all these years, and they were going to stay together forever. I keep coming back to it in my mind. All week it's beein weighing on me, and not just this couple, but others as well, it's like a wave crashing over us and some couples are being washed apart by it.
And I wonder how deep P and I's roots are, what our foundation has been built on that has held us steady for so long. What would be the stressor that breaks us? Our marriage is riddled in conflict, but somehow we've been able to get past the obstacles. Us. Both children of divorce. Is it our pasts that make us unwilling to give up the fight? Is it Boogie that softens us to change? What the hell is it that casuses some people to divorce, and others to stuck together?
What is it?
And part of it is envy. To be willing to do something like that to make each other happier. I don't think P and I are mature enough for that.
I'm not talking about envy in the sense that I wish I were single, I can't imagine having to deal with the BS of dating again, of searching, waiting, and in the end having the same issues that we have now. I like the routine we have in our lives, I like the challenge of breaking out of that routine every once in a while to do something exciting, but then to be able to fall back into the comfort of a long-term relationship.
But I envy valuing myself enough to take that plunge into the unknown (though for this particular couple, who were married later in life and already knew the single life, I guess it's not really unknown), to give up so much that I had worked for in the last few years to start over, hoping for something better. I don't doubt that they still love each other, but it wasn't working, and they decided to call it quits.
At times I have thought it would be easier to be single, to do it alone, and do it my way, but I'm willing to sacrafice control in order to maintain what we've built together. The rough times have thus far been temporary. Yes, there are lingering issues, but when I took my vows I meant them. I'm not giving up without a fight.
In the larger context, I think that a lot of people are giving up too soon. This isn't a judgement, because there is no way I will ever know all the dynamics of the relationship, I can never know all the bits and pieces they brought to their union, and how hard they fought to make it work. I do know that a lot more people are getting divorced now compared to 30 years ago. I do know a lot of children are suffering the loss of a parent.
And I also know that the divorce process is easier than trying to work it out.
But I'm bummed out. I never saw it coming. I thought they were one of those quirky couples who, although very different from each other, they were madly in love after all these years, and they were going to stay together forever. I keep coming back to it in my mind. All week it's beein weighing on me, and not just this couple, but others as well, it's like a wave crashing over us and some couples are being washed apart by it.
And I wonder how deep P and I's roots are, what our foundation has been built on that has held us steady for so long. What would be the stressor that breaks us? Our marriage is riddled in conflict, but somehow we've been able to get past the obstacles. Us. Both children of divorce. Is it our pasts that make us unwilling to give up the fight? Is it Boogie that softens us to change? What the hell is it that casuses some people to divorce, and others to stuck together?
What is it?
March 18, 2008
Sappy Anniversary Blog
Yep, it's been six years, and I've sort of exhausted all those lovely "how we met" stories and "why I love him so much" raves.
Can you tell? It's a few days past the big day, and I'm just now getting around to writing about it. Our night was mediocre, we had dinner at a place with great food, but crappy service. He did buy me my favorite perfume, Issey Miyake, and bought himself the men's version because he knows I love it.
I guess after six years, it's the little things that make all the difference. It's the BBQ when I'm dying for smoking carcinogenic goodness, and staying up with me until 1am to watch a dumb movie when he's exhausted and has to work the next morning.
It's waking up at 3am to feed Boogie her oatmeal and put her back to sleep, so that I can get my 8 hours of (mostly) uninterrupted sleep.
It's agreeing to have another baby, although he dreads the idea of more sleepless nights, food battles, and early mornings. Because he knows nothing else in the world makes me as happy as seeing our beautiful baby girl.
After six years of marriage, we're still figuring things out. At 18, I had no idea that it would be this hard, that it would take this much work, that I could be completely miserable one night, and maniacally joyful the next morning.
But I am. We are. And I'm glad we chose each other to learn from.
Happy Belated Anniversary, Punkin.
Can you tell? It's a few days past the big day, and I'm just now getting around to writing about it. Our night was mediocre, we had dinner at a place with great food, but crappy service. He did buy me my favorite perfume, Issey Miyake, and bought himself the men's version because he knows I love it.
I guess after six years, it's the little things that make all the difference. It's the BBQ when I'm dying for smoking carcinogenic goodness, and staying up with me until 1am to watch a dumb movie when he's exhausted and has to work the next morning.
It's waking up at 3am to feed Boogie her oatmeal and put her back to sleep, so that I can get my 8 hours of (mostly) uninterrupted sleep.
It's agreeing to have another baby, although he dreads the idea of more sleepless nights, food battles, and early mornings. Because he knows nothing else in the world makes me as happy as seeing our beautiful baby girl.
After six years of marriage, we're still figuring things out. At 18, I had no idea that it would be this hard, that it would take this much work, that I could be completely miserable one night, and maniacally joyful the next morning.
But I am. We are. And I'm glad we chose each other to learn from.
Happy Belated Anniversary, Punkin.
February 17, 2008
Books for Brain Power
I've realized very recently that I love learning, but I have issues retaining the information. I always sort of knew that, considering I'd forget facts literally minutes after I finished taking a test in college, but when it comes to self-improvement, how in the hell do you keep track of all those things you want to do, and also be present in the moment, and on top of all that, take care of your business in the real world?
I mean, I can logically tick off the things I want to work on, but when I'm stressed or tired or hungry, how do I keep those goals in my mind while also dealing with the stress, and still have energy to do all those other things I need to handle, like work, cooking, cleaning, showering....? How do people constantly strive to be better than they were, and still maintain their sanity? My God, it feels like madness to just think about it!
My answer is, of course, to keep feeding my brain what I want to know, how I want to develop myself, so that I don't have to waste brain power on remembering, I can just go back into that zone for 20 minutes in a book before I go to sleep. Is that cheating?
I have been catching myself before mindlessly reacting recently. I've been trying to breathe instead of speak sometimes, and speak instead of ruminate. Maybe I just got wired backwards, and I need to somehow flip-flop those circuits to be normal? Hehehe, can I ever be normal? It's kind of fun to not react in a comfortable way, it's exciting to see a different way of living.
Instead of vomiting anger at my husband for not doing what we agreed he would do, like giving Taryn her bath last night, I give myself 2 minutes to calm down, (and give him a 2 minute chance to be the noble man I know he longs to be), then I do what needs to be done and appreciate the extra time I have with her.
On our way to gymnastics yesterday, P decided 5 minutes before we were leaving that he did in fact want to go. He was dressed and ready in about 3 minutes, then sat at the computer to check his email while I put on my shoes. As I was bringing Boogie to the car, he told me to wait so he could make some coffee. Instead of react to him lacking forethought, sitting at the computer wasting time when he could have been downstairs making his coffee, I told him I wasn't waiting and put her in the car.
He made it out of the house right before we pulled away, and was able to see Boogie having a blast for an hour.
It's taken me a long time to realize that my control issues are detrimental to my wellbeing. I have been trying for so long to control what is beyond my grasp, and I've gone crazy wondering why the world doesn't turn how I know it would most effectively. I'm reining all that in, and I'm really focusing on myself, the one person I can control in my life. It's taken my 6 years of marriage to realize that P is outside my range, and I officially give up trying to change him.
That doesn't mean I won't wish he'd do things differently, but I feel at peace knowing that it's up to God, not me, to make him more responsible.
I don't like New Age-y stuff. I'm not a fan of non-fiction. But if anyone has good book recommendations, fiction or story-like non-fiction, that I can learn from, please let me know. I'm all about feeding myself what's good and healthy and sane right now, so no more murder mysteries or horror stories, but after that I'm stuck as to where to turn.
I mean, I can logically tick off the things I want to work on, but when I'm stressed or tired or hungry, how do I keep those goals in my mind while also dealing with the stress, and still have energy to do all those other things I need to handle, like work, cooking, cleaning, showering....? How do people constantly strive to be better than they were, and still maintain their sanity? My God, it feels like madness to just think about it!
My answer is, of course, to keep feeding my brain what I want to know, how I want to develop myself, so that I don't have to waste brain power on remembering, I can just go back into that zone for 20 minutes in a book before I go to sleep. Is that cheating?
I have been catching myself before mindlessly reacting recently. I've been trying to breathe instead of speak sometimes, and speak instead of ruminate. Maybe I just got wired backwards, and I need to somehow flip-flop those circuits to be normal? Hehehe, can I ever be normal? It's kind of fun to not react in a comfortable way, it's exciting to see a different way of living.
Instead of vomiting anger at my husband for not doing what we agreed he would do, like giving Taryn her bath last night, I give myself 2 minutes to calm down, (and give him a 2 minute chance to be the noble man I know he longs to be), then I do what needs to be done and appreciate the extra time I have with her.
On our way to gymnastics yesterday, P decided 5 minutes before we were leaving that he did in fact want to go. He was dressed and ready in about 3 minutes, then sat at the computer to check his email while I put on my shoes. As I was bringing Boogie to the car, he told me to wait so he could make some coffee. Instead of react to him lacking forethought, sitting at the computer wasting time when he could have been downstairs making his coffee, I told him I wasn't waiting and put her in the car.
He made it out of the house right before we pulled away, and was able to see Boogie having a blast for an hour.
It's taken me a long time to realize that my control issues are detrimental to my wellbeing. I have been trying for so long to control what is beyond my grasp, and I've gone crazy wondering why the world doesn't turn how I know it would most effectively. I'm reining all that in, and I'm really focusing on myself, the one person I can control in my life. It's taken my 6 years of marriage to realize that P is outside my range, and I officially give up trying to change him.
That doesn't mean I won't wish he'd do things differently, but I feel at peace knowing that it's up to God, not me, to make him more responsible.
I don't like New Age-y stuff. I'm not a fan of non-fiction. But if anyone has good book recommendations, fiction or story-like non-fiction, that I can learn from, please let me know. I'm all about feeding myself what's good and healthy and sane right now, so no more murder mysteries or horror stories, but after that I'm stuck as to where to turn.
February 11, 2008
Living in the Moment
You know, I've always thought that one of the main reasons I was so anxious all the time was that I didn't live in the moment, but I discovered last night, that is far from the truth.
I was huffing around the house, irked that I was cleaning up after dinner, after walking the dogs, after feeding Boogie, doing laundry, cleaning the litter box, generally spending my Sunday taking care of everything and everyone but me. I was also trying to impress upon my husband the fact that Boogie is going to copy whatever he does, so he needed to get his act together. He had been eating corn kernels with his fingers, belching at the dinner table and generally being a pig, and she mimicked every disgusting act that he performed.
So I was standing in the hall surveying the damage to my house and plotting how to clean the biggest mess with the least amount of effort so that I could go upstairs and start a new book before I fell asleep. P bent over to put his shoes on to take out the trash, and let one rip. I restrained my fury and called him a pig. Feeling proud of myself for not losing my cool, I started cleaning the massive piles of newspaper that were beginning to take over the house since we started delivery. P came inside to grab the recycling, and as he walked past me he let out a huge stinking belch that reeked of corn and salmon, mayo and hippy water ... and I socked him in the arm.
In that moment, that single instant without thought, where my arm flew out from my side and connected with the source of my disgust and fury, I realized, Dude! I was totally in the moment right there!
And see, now I realize that when I am truly aggravated, I'm entirely in the moment, not contemplating the future repercussions of my actions. Now I just have to figure out how to do that more when I'm happy.
:)
I was huffing around the house, irked that I was cleaning up after dinner, after walking the dogs, after feeding Boogie, doing laundry, cleaning the litter box, generally spending my Sunday taking care of everything and everyone but me. I was also trying to impress upon my husband the fact that Boogie is going to copy whatever he does, so he needed to get his act together. He had been eating corn kernels with his fingers, belching at the dinner table and generally being a pig, and she mimicked every disgusting act that he performed.
So I was standing in the hall surveying the damage to my house and plotting how to clean the biggest mess with the least amount of effort so that I could go upstairs and start a new book before I fell asleep. P bent over to put his shoes on to take out the trash, and let one rip. I restrained my fury and called him a pig. Feeling proud of myself for not losing my cool, I started cleaning the massive piles of newspaper that were beginning to take over the house since we started delivery. P came inside to grab the recycling, and as he walked past me he let out a huge stinking belch that reeked of corn and salmon, mayo and hippy water ... and I socked him in the arm.
In that moment, that single instant without thought, where my arm flew out from my side and connected with the source of my disgust and fury, I realized, Dude! I was totally in the moment right there!
And see, now I realize that when I am truly aggravated, I'm entirely in the moment, not contemplating the future repercussions of my actions. Now I just have to figure out how to do that more when I'm happy.
:)
February 6, 2008
Hypocrite
After all my bitching and moaning, I go and do the same thing.
What is wrong with me? Just because he did it first, does not make it okay for me to go and do it later. Granted, it wasn't my intention, but at that point of no return, I plunged ahead hoping he would react better than I did. And mostly, it was true, and I in my childish-ness punished him for being the bigger person.
As I was telling Tere last night, he has seen me at my worst, he has stuck by me through the BS, and I've done the same for him. That's got to count for something.
What is wrong with me? Just because he did it first, does not make it okay for me to go and do it later. Granted, it wasn't my intention, but at that point of no return, I plunged ahead hoping he would react better than I did. And mostly, it was true, and I in my childish-ness punished him for being the bigger person.
As I was telling Tere last night, he has seen me at my worst, he has stuck by me through the BS, and I've done the same for him. That's got to count for something.
February 3, 2008
Why? Again...
I just don't get how people can consciously ruin a relationship.
This is one of those days where I truly believe that I would be better off alone. I don't want to be a divorced single mother at 25, but I don't know if my sanity will allow me to stay here much longer. It's madness.
We had a good stretch going, and he goes and does this. It's 1:08pm, and he still isn't home, thinks he's being a good guy by calling to tell me he's still too drunk to drive, and oops, I forgot we were having people over today to watch the game, and later a small birthday party, but Baby, I love you, I promise I'll make it up to you.
And I'm stuck here, because he took the carseat. I can't go anywhere because I have the baby, and no way to transport her. SO I have to call and email people back that, hey, sorry for the late notice but you can't come over anymore because I can't go to the store to get supplies, and by the way, P isn't back from a night out getting drunk either. Even though the last time was supposed to be the end of it.
Like always.
I just don't know how much I am supposed to take before I snap? I don't know where the line is drawn between enabling his alcohol addiction, and just taking care of Taryn and myself? I don't know if these actions would bother me so much if they didn't affect me... if he had left the carseat and I could get on with my life, would I care so much that he's out drinking and smoking with the boys?
So am I angry because I'm selfish? Am I angry because he's killing himself, or because he is interfering with my life? I found an apartment I can afford, cheaper child care, a trade-in for my car... I can do it myself, I don't know why I'm still here.
This is one of those days where I truly believe that I would be better off alone. I don't want to be a divorced single mother at 25, but I don't know if my sanity will allow me to stay here much longer. It's madness.
We had a good stretch going, and he goes and does this. It's 1:08pm, and he still isn't home, thinks he's being a good guy by calling to tell me he's still too drunk to drive, and oops, I forgot we were having people over today to watch the game, and later a small birthday party, but Baby, I love you, I promise I'll make it up to you.
And I'm stuck here, because he took the carseat. I can't go anywhere because I have the baby, and no way to transport her. SO I have to call and email people back that, hey, sorry for the late notice but you can't come over anymore because I can't go to the store to get supplies, and by the way, P isn't back from a night out getting drunk either. Even though the last time was supposed to be the end of it.
Like always.
I just don't know how much I am supposed to take before I snap? I don't know where the line is drawn between enabling his alcohol addiction, and just taking care of Taryn and myself? I don't know if these actions would bother me so much if they didn't affect me... if he had left the carseat and I could get on with my life, would I care so much that he's out drinking and smoking with the boys?
So am I angry because I'm selfish? Am I angry because he's killing himself, or because he is interfering with my life? I found an apartment I can afford, cheaper child care, a trade-in for my car... I can do it myself, I don't know why I'm still here.
January 1, 2008
Broken
The salty-sweet taste of lust fills my mouth
after all these years, I still want you
but shouldn't it be something deeper?
I'm falling head over heels every day
but not in love with you
only into my own pit of despair.
If love is the absence of disgust
I'm halfway there. But if it is more
than the sum of these parts, I'm lost.
And I'm fighting the inevitable.
I don't want to be like them.
I don't want to hurt like them.
But I don't know if I can stay and fight.
For us. For what? Only for her.
Or if I should leave.
Something is missing, we both know
the physicality is covering up a hole.
I don't know if I care enough to stay.
So one day at a time. And one day
you won't be enough to keep me here.
It's nothing you've done.
I'm the broken one.
after all these years, I still want you
but shouldn't it be something deeper?
I'm falling head over heels every day
but not in love with you
only into my own pit of despair.
If love is the absence of disgust
I'm halfway there. But if it is more
than the sum of these parts, I'm lost.
And I'm fighting the inevitable.
I don't want to be like them.
I don't want to hurt like them.
But I don't know if I can stay and fight.
For us. For what? Only for her.
Or if I should leave.
Something is missing, we both know
the physicality is covering up a hole.
I don't know if I care enough to stay.
So one day at a time. And one day
you won't be enough to keep me here.
It's nothing you've done.
I'm the broken one.
December 19, 2007
Way More Exciting Than Real Life
I woke up super-late today. I normally don’t do that, I’m pretty good at rationing my slaps at the alarm clock, but I had this scary-weird dream, and I needed to see how it ended. So I kept hitting it until it was over, and then I had only 20 minutes to get ready for work.
And I need at least 30.
****
In my dream, I was going downstairs to see a client whom I knew was applying for someone who did not want the benefits, and he was trying to get information on this woman that we were not allowed to give out. As far as we knew, he was a jealous ex-lover, and we knew he had a history of physical abuse, so I was scared going to see him myself.
As I do in real life if I’m not completely comfortable with a client, I left the door slightly open for a quick escape. Just in case. I sat down with this guy and asked him how I could help him. When he requested to finish an application for this other woman, I politely told him I couldn’t even confirm if she had applied for benefits. He stood up, towering over me like a maniacal clown, his hair a fiery red, then reached down and tried to grab my arm.
I bolted out the door, but he jumped over the desk before I could lock the door and grabbed my arm. I started yelling for a coworker to help me, to call the Sheriff, to hit the panic button, anything… and he was dragging me down this long hallway to the door that led outside. The hallway wasn’t the one at work, it was much wider, and much longer, and there were open stairs at the end of it, sort of like the ones you’d see at a parking garage.
Finally, a couple coworkers came to my rescue, hauled him off of me and restrained him while they waited for the Sherriff to come. There was a huge crowd gathering around him, employees and clients all abandoned what they were doing to watch him claw and bite at the men holding him. He looked like one of those animals on the Discovery Channel who fight with every ounce of their strength to free themselves from their captors, and he was wearing them down. I could see the men holding him getting tired, they were all covered in cuts and claw marks, chunks of skin missing from where they had scraped their bodies against the rough floor trying to keep a good grip on him.
I started to worry, thinking he was going to get free and come after me again, so I paged everyone in the building to come downstairs to make sure that if he got loose, he wouldn’t be able to get away. When I finished the page, I turned around with the phone still in my hand and the crowd was gone. The only ones left were me, the crazy guy, and the two male coworkers who had been holding him, but were no longer by his side. I backed slowly towards the stairs, thinking that it would give me a slight advantage to be above him, and maybe as he was chasing me the two guys could grab him again.
I was yelling at them frantically to grab his arms while he was so close, but they just stood there watching us, like some sick game of cat and mouse, but I was the one being stalked. I started up the stairs, swinging the phone by the cord, hoping my aim would be good enough to knock him out if he came within striking distance. I was halfway up the stairs when he started up after me, and I was slowing inching up backwards so I could keep my eye on him. For every step I took, he took two, and I gave up yelling at my coworkers because I could see that for some reason, they weren’t trying to go after him.
Then I saw one of them lunge after him, and I turned around and raced up the rest of the stairs onto what looked like the top level of a parking deck. I was standing in the middle of it, I could hear the Sherriff's sirens blaring, getting closer every second, but I didn’t know what had happened in the stairwell.
Then these two red-headed twins stepped up to my level and sat grinning at me. Now, the actual people I saw in my dream were Spencer and Evan, two of the sweetest guys I have ever known, and actual red-headed twins that I went to high school with. I didn’t worry what was going to happen to me anymore. The coworker that had lunged at the crazy guy was *that* particular person I have dreamed about in the past (not my husband) who evidently in my dream was my lover or something. The other coworker who had initially restrained the crazy was one of the twins.
I could never tell them apart in real life, and I had no idea which was which in the dream either.
And as I sat there, contemplating my imminent demise, the death of my lover, and the utter irony that had the Sheriff been closer like we kept asking, most of this could have been prevented, but yay! At least after I die they’ll be forced to put some type of security in reception… My lover jumped up from the stairwell, tackled them both, and restrained them until the Sherriff came to haul them away.
*Swoon*
So this is about the part I hit the last snooze. We of course hopped into a car to drive into the sunset, but then we stopped at Safeway to get some sandwiches. It turns out this lover was really my husband (my handsome husband in real life, I mean), but he was ripped (unlike P) and his Dad was driving the SUV we were in (entirely plausible, if we were in Paraguay). I didn’t have any shoes (not sure what happend to them) and we searched the whole car for them, then decided we’d wait in the parking lot and get cozy while his Dad went inside to get the food (classy, eh?). We parked in a semi-remote spot to get to know each other better. Ya dig?
But then P saw his motorcycle parked a little ways down, so we hopped on it and zoomed off into the sunset, kissing and getting more friendly than is probably possible on a 2-wheeled vehicle.
But I guess it could happen?
And I need at least 30.
****
In my dream, I was going downstairs to see a client whom I knew was applying for someone who did not want the benefits, and he was trying to get information on this woman that we were not allowed to give out. As far as we knew, he was a jealous ex-lover, and we knew he had a history of physical abuse, so I was scared going to see him myself.
As I do in real life if I’m not completely comfortable with a client, I left the door slightly open for a quick escape. Just in case. I sat down with this guy and asked him how I could help him. When he requested to finish an application for this other woman, I politely told him I couldn’t even confirm if she had applied for benefits. He stood up, towering over me like a maniacal clown, his hair a fiery red, then reached down and tried to grab my arm.
I bolted out the door, but he jumped over the desk before I could lock the door and grabbed my arm. I started yelling for a coworker to help me, to call the Sheriff, to hit the panic button, anything… and he was dragging me down this long hallway to the door that led outside. The hallway wasn’t the one at work, it was much wider, and much longer, and there were open stairs at the end of it, sort of like the ones you’d see at a parking garage.
Finally, a couple coworkers came to my rescue, hauled him off of me and restrained him while they waited for the Sherriff to come. There was a huge crowd gathering around him, employees and clients all abandoned what they were doing to watch him claw and bite at the men holding him. He looked like one of those animals on the Discovery Channel who fight with every ounce of their strength to free themselves from their captors, and he was wearing them down. I could see the men holding him getting tired, they were all covered in cuts and claw marks, chunks of skin missing from where they had scraped their bodies against the rough floor trying to keep a good grip on him.
I started to worry, thinking he was going to get free and come after me again, so I paged everyone in the building to come downstairs to make sure that if he got loose, he wouldn’t be able to get away. When I finished the page, I turned around with the phone still in my hand and the crowd was gone. The only ones left were me, the crazy guy, and the two male coworkers who had been holding him, but were no longer by his side. I backed slowly towards the stairs, thinking that it would give me a slight advantage to be above him, and maybe as he was chasing me the two guys could grab him again.
I was yelling at them frantically to grab his arms while he was so close, but they just stood there watching us, like some sick game of cat and mouse, but I was the one being stalked. I started up the stairs, swinging the phone by the cord, hoping my aim would be good enough to knock him out if he came within striking distance. I was halfway up the stairs when he started up after me, and I was slowing inching up backwards so I could keep my eye on him. For every step I took, he took two, and I gave up yelling at my coworkers because I could see that for some reason, they weren’t trying to go after him.
Then I saw one of them lunge after him, and I turned around and raced up the rest of the stairs onto what looked like the top level of a parking deck. I was standing in the middle of it, I could hear the Sherriff's sirens blaring, getting closer every second, but I didn’t know what had happened in the stairwell.
Then these two red-headed twins stepped up to my level and sat grinning at me. Now, the actual people I saw in my dream were Spencer and Evan, two of the sweetest guys I have ever known, and actual red-headed twins that I went to high school with. I didn’t worry what was going to happen to me anymore. The coworker that had lunged at the crazy guy was *that* particular person I have dreamed about in the past (not my husband) who evidently in my dream was my lover or something. The other coworker who had initially restrained the crazy was one of the twins.
I could never tell them apart in real life, and I had no idea which was which in the dream either.
And as I sat there, contemplating my imminent demise, the death of my lover, and the utter irony that had the Sheriff been closer like we kept asking, most of this could have been prevented, but yay! At least after I die they’ll be forced to put some type of security in reception… My lover jumped up from the stairwell, tackled them both, and restrained them until the Sherriff came to haul them away.
*Swoon*
So this is about the part I hit the last snooze. We of course hopped into a car to drive into the sunset, but then we stopped at Safeway to get some sandwiches. It turns out this lover was really my husband (my handsome husband in real life, I mean), but he was ripped (unlike P) and his Dad was driving the SUV we were in (entirely plausible, if we were in Paraguay). I didn’t have any shoes (not sure what happend to them) and we searched the whole car for them, then decided we’d wait in the parking lot and get cozy while his Dad went inside to get the food (classy, eh?). We parked in a semi-remote spot to get to know each other better. Ya dig?
But then P saw his motorcycle parked a little ways down, so we hopped on it and zoomed off into the sunset, kissing and getting more friendly than is probably possible on a 2-wheeled vehicle.
But I guess it could happen?
December 18, 2007
Undue Influence
Call it an independent streak, but for the most part I don’t do what P tells me to do. Unless I want to.
I used to think that was normal, my Mom didn’t take shit from any man and would tell him to fuck off in a hot second if he crossed an invisible line into None-of-Your-Damn-Business land, same with my aunts and granny, and so I got it honest, yes? But the more I’m around couples, be it married folks or just committed people, I’m starting to think it’s not so normal.
I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t think I could change if I wanted to, because that is how I was before we were married, and I know P resents me when I start getting super dependent on him. Which does happen on occasion when I’m having a hard time, or just feeling needy. But I’ve consciously tried to maintain the mentality that if something happened to him and we weren’t together anymore, I don’t want to be completely alone and helpless. I do get angry when he’s out all night, not because I’m home with the baby, but because I worry about him doing something stupid and getting hurt.
In my mind, he appreciates that he doesn’t have to worry about me. I’m super-self-sufficient, not the type of woman who needs him to fix things for me, or hang a ceiling fan, or wash my car. I don’t do garbage, but I’m okay with being the one outside on a freezing, rainy Sunday morning walking the dogs, or the one who brings in the most money for our bills. But as I write this I’m thinking, maybe I’m projecting? Because I don’t like having to look over his shoulder to make sure he gets his stuff done, reminding him to pay his credit card bill, or to pick up after himself. I appreciate people who can take care of themselves, and though I like being appreciated, I rubs me wrong to be needed. Except by Boogie, of course.
I digress though, maybe a bit? I’ve noticed a lot of women friends of mine lately who have said, “I can’t do X because so-and-so won’t let me,” or something to that effect, and it always stuns me. Because in my mind I’m thinking, “I wish he would tell me not to do something that’s important to me. Let him hear what I really think.” And it’s not that I’m looking for a fight, but I don’t tell him what to do (usually) unless he asks, and even then I’m hesitant to give him the answer. But also, I can’t imagine asking “how high” when he says to jump, although that seems to be more common than I previously imagined.
And really, I suppose it’s just a difference in relationship style. There is inevitably one person who has slightly more authority, and I think I took on that role, partly because of my mastery of the English language, but more importantly because that is how I was raised, to not have to rely on anyone but myself. Not in an isolationist way, but in order to be self-sufficient. But I also know that if I don’t do some thing because P asks me not to, I resent him. Unless there is a good reason for it.
I’m all about open communication, and I am willing to alter my actions if I understand why it might not be the best idea, and I agree. But I’m not giving anyone veto power over my life. I deal with my fair share of tantrums and silent treatment from him, and it irks me. But at the same time I have to stay true to what I need to do, like going out with my friends and not inviting him along, or speaking my mind when something comes up, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.
Maybe I’m overbearing and insensitive? It’s a possibility, but that view could also be based on people’s perception of where women should be in the relationship. I know a lot of people defer because they want to be taken care of, and that’s fine. I don’t agree, and I don’t want to give up a part of myself for a sense of security. Maybe I’m destined to always have a companion and not a soul mate, and that’s okay with me too. I’ve been like this too long to make such a radical change without some hard evidence that it’s the best thing for me.
Call me New Age, but I think it’s about time women had a voice.
I used to think that was normal, my Mom didn’t take shit from any man and would tell him to fuck off in a hot second if he crossed an invisible line into None-of-Your-Damn-Business land, same with my aunts and granny, and so I got it honest, yes? But the more I’m around couples, be it married folks or just committed people, I’m starting to think it’s not so normal.
I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t think I could change if I wanted to, because that is how I was before we were married, and I know P resents me when I start getting super dependent on him. Which does happen on occasion when I’m having a hard time, or just feeling needy. But I’ve consciously tried to maintain the mentality that if something happened to him and we weren’t together anymore, I don’t want to be completely alone and helpless. I do get angry when he’s out all night, not because I’m home with the baby, but because I worry about him doing something stupid and getting hurt.
In my mind, he appreciates that he doesn’t have to worry about me. I’m super-self-sufficient, not the type of woman who needs him to fix things for me, or hang a ceiling fan, or wash my car. I don’t do garbage, but I’m okay with being the one outside on a freezing, rainy Sunday morning walking the dogs, or the one who brings in the most money for our bills. But as I write this I’m thinking, maybe I’m projecting? Because I don’t like having to look over his shoulder to make sure he gets his stuff done, reminding him to pay his credit card bill, or to pick up after himself. I appreciate people who can take care of themselves, and though I like being appreciated, I rubs me wrong to be needed. Except by Boogie, of course.
I digress though, maybe a bit? I’ve noticed a lot of women friends of mine lately who have said, “I can’t do X because so-and-so won’t let me,” or something to that effect, and it always stuns me. Because in my mind I’m thinking, “I wish he would tell me not to do something that’s important to me. Let him hear what I really think.” And it’s not that I’m looking for a fight, but I don’t tell him what to do (usually) unless he asks, and even then I’m hesitant to give him the answer. But also, I can’t imagine asking “how high” when he says to jump, although that seems to be more common than I previously imagined.
And really, I suppose it’s just a difference in relationship style. There is inevitably one person who has slightly more authority, and I think I took on that role, partly because of my mastery of the English language, but more importantly because that is how I was raised, to not have to rely on anyone but myself. Not in an isolationist way, but in order to be self-sufficient. But I also know that if I don’t do some thing because P asks me not to, I resent him. Unless there is a good reason for it.
I’m all about open communication, and I am willing to alter my actions if I understand why it might not be the best idea, and I agree. But I’m not giving anyone veto power over my life. I deal with my fair share of tantrums and silent treatment from him, and it irks me. But at the same time I have to stay true to what I need to do, like going out with my friends and not inviting him along, or speaking my mind when something comes up, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.
Maybe I’m overbearing and insensitive? It’s a possibility, but that view could also be based on people’s perception of where women should be in the relationship. I know a lot of people defer because they want to be taken care of, and that’s fine. I don’t agree, and I don’t want to give up a part of myself for a sense of security. Maybe I’m destined to always have a companion and not a soul mate, and that’s okay with me too. I’ve been like this too long to make such a radical change without some hard evidence that it’s the best thing for me.
Call me New Age, but I think it’s about time women had a voice.
December 14, 2007
My First Week as a Single Mother
I’ve been trying for a week to put into words how I feel with my husband gone. It seems like talking to different people brings up different emotions for me, which is half-normal, and half weird when I think about all these feelings swirling around at once. I’m hiding a lot here, and yet I’m trying to be honest with myself about all this because I think this is a huge learning experience for me.
The last time P went to Paraguay without me, I gave notice on our apartment and moved back in with my mom. It was only supposed to be for 1 month, but I was 19 and scared to live by myself for the first time.
This time it feels different. I’m not alone. I have Boogie, and Jojo comes home most nights. The dogs are there for “protection” and the kitty for snuggles. But I do feel lonely. I don’t feel like I have someone to talk to who knows me as well as I know myself.
At the same time, I’m relishing the solitude. It’s a very definitive existence being a single mother. I don’t have to clean up after anyone but me and her, I cook whatever I want for dinner. There are no disagreements about whose turn it is to feed her, bathe her, or get up early on Sunday morning. It’s all me. And I love the freedom to know that I don’t have to think about anyone’s schedule but my own.
If I were a single mother, things would not be so easy, I know that. I would have more worries about money, but less at the same time because I’d be in complete control of my own finances. I’d be more stressed when Boogie is sick, because I wouldn’t get a break. But I also think I would have more help. Or at least would be more willing to ask for help.
It maybe sounds awful, but I don’t really feel like I need P for anything besides companionship. And, you know… cookie. I feel like I could do this myself if I had to, and I feel really proud that I’m confident that I could thrive without him. I wonder how it will affect our relationship in the future, that he can’t now throw it in my face that I need him, because I know I don’t. I want him around, and maybe … hopefully … that can make us closer.
I do miss him. My heart aches writing this. But I don’t feel so dependent on him anymore. I hope I can somehow bottle up this feeling for a later date, and whip it out when I feel hopeless, when I wonder why I’m with him, and how life would be without him. I can remember that I’m making a choice to be a part of this marriage. And then I can make the choice to keep working on it.
The last time P went to Paraguay without me, I gave notice on our apartment and moved back in with my mom. It was only supposed to be for 1 month, but I was 19 and scared to live by myself for the first time.
This time it feels different. I’m not alone. I have Boogie, and Jojo comes home most nights. The dogs are there for “protection” and the kitty for snuggles. But I do feel lonely. I don’t feel like I have someone to talk to who knows me as well as I know myself.
At the same time, I’m relishing the solitude. It’s a very definitive existence being a single mother. I don’t have to clean up after anyone but me and her, I cook whatever I want for dinner. There are no disagreements about whose turn it is to feed her, bathe her, or get up early on Sunday morning. It’s all me. And I love the freedom to know that I don’t have to think about anyone’s schedule but my own.
If I were a single mother, things would not be so easy, I know that. I would have more worries about money, but less at the same time because I’d be in complete control of my own finances. I’d be more stressed when Boogie is sick, because I wouldn’t get a break. But I also think I would have more help. Or at least would be more willing to ask for help.
It maybe sounds awful, but I don’t really feel like I need P for anything besides companionship. And, you know… cookie. I feel like I could do this myself if I had to, and I feel really proud that I’m confident that I could thrive without him. I wonder how it will affect our relationship in the future, that he can’t now throw it in my face that I need him, because I know I don’t. I want him around, and maybe … hopefully … that can make us closer.
I do miss him. My heart aches writing this. But I don’t feel so dependent on him anymore. I hope I can somehow bottle up this feeling for a later date, and whip it out when I feel hopeless, when I wonder why I’m with him, and how life would be without him. I can remember that I’m making a choice to be a part of this marriage. And then I can make the choice to keep working on it.
September 27, 2007
A Plan's a Plan, Right?
I'm torn here. I don't want to be offensive, but I've been super-irritated by something that seems to be happening more and more regularly with more and more people. And I know I'm PMS-ing, so I'm more bothered than normal, but FUCK!
Can you make up your damn mind?
I don't do wishy-washy. For a lot of years when my self-esteem was lower, I was that person who would defer to others' wishes. When I was asked to make a decision like, "Where do you want to go for lunch?" I would always be the one without an opinion. Even when I really wanted to go somewhere, I would say I didn't care so as not to be pushy. How lame is that? I'm the only person I would call pushy who stated an opinion.
I didn't realize I had lost my voice until a friend said he remembered how when we were dating I would tell him I was going somewhere and he was free to come along, but I was going even if he didn't. And he loved that about me.
And I've been trying ever since to state my opinions, when I have them. I'm realizing something major changed in me after Boogie was born. I have to set an example of a strong woman for her, so I've been consiously setting myself up to be the person I always wanted to be, I just didn't have the motivation to improve until she came along.
Sometimes I really don't give a damn where to go to eat. I'm just hungry. But it drives me crazy when other people are wishy-washy. I can't stand to be in a conversation with someone who is deferential to the point of not having an opinion. And I abhor the actions of people who try to make things easier for you, and end up fucking it all up.
Example. If I'm at work and I need to get something from someone on another floor, I will normally call them and let them know I am coming to get it. If that person says they'll be upstairs soon so they can drop it off anyway, fine. But if we agreed that I would go downstairs to get it, and that person happens to come upstairs to drop it off without telling me, it's bound to be at the same time that I'm going downstairs to pick it up. So we cross paths without realizing it, and I'm downstairs searching for the paper, or the person I need to get it from.
That was a bogus example, but it's that kind of thing that irks me lately. Like, I get you are trying to be helpful, but you're really not. I like when things happen according to whatever plan we decided on, and when someone decides to change that plan, it inevitably screws with me.
If I say, "Let's go have lunch." And you say, "Sure, where?" Then I'm going to respond with a location. If you agree to that, it's a plan, right?
But if when we're in the car you say, "If you don't want to go to X, we could go to Y." Then you're fucking with my plan.
And I might respond by saying, "Sure, if you'd rather go to Y, that's fine with me." Don't freaking turn around and say, "Or we could try Z if you don't like Y."
We already planned on X, why is the hell are we now discussing Z? I am not the docile creature I was years ago. If I don't want to go to Y, I won't agree to go there. If you didn't want to go to X, you shouldn't have agreed in the first place.
Comprende?
Raaaawwwrrrrr.
Can you make up your damn mind?
I don't do wishy-washy. For a lot of years when my self-esteem was lower, I was that person who would defer to others' wishes. When I was asked to make a decision like, "Where do you want to go for lunch?" I would always be the one without an opinion. Even when I really wanted to go somewhere, I would say I didn't care so as not to be pushy. How lame is that? I'm the only person I would call pushy who stated an opinion.
I didn't realize I had lost my voice until a friend said he remembered how when we were dating I would tell him I was going somewhere and he was free to come along, but I was going even if he didn't. And he loved that about me.
And I've been trying ever since to state my opinions, when I have them. I'm realizing something major changed in me after Boogie was born. I have to set an example of a strong woman for her, so I've been consiously setting myself up to be the person I always wanted to be, I just didn't have the motivation to improve until she came along.
Sometimes I really don't give a damn where to go to eat. I'm just hungry. But it drives me crazy when other people are wishy-washy. I can't stand to be in a conversation with someone who is deferential to the point of not having an opinion. And I abhor the actions of people who try to make things easier for you, and end up fucking it all up.
Example. If I'm at work and I need to get something from someone on another floor, I will normally call them and let them know I am coming to get it. If that person says they'll be upstairs soon so they can drop it off anyway, fine. But if we agreed that I would go downstairs to get it, and that person happens to come upstairs to drop it off without telling me, it's bound to be at the same time that I'm going downstairs to pick it up. So we cross paths without realizing it, and I'm downstairs searching for the paper, or the person I need to get it from.
That was a bogus example, but it's that kind of thing that irks me lately. Like, I get you are trying to be helpful, but you're really not. I like when things happen according to whatever plan we decided on, and when someone decides to change that plan, it inevitably screws with me.
If I say, "Let's go have lunch." And you say, "Sure, where?" Then I'm going to respond with a location. If you agree to that, it's a plan, right?
But if when we're in the car you say, "If you don't want to go to X, we could go to Y." Then you're fucking with my plan.
And I might respond by saying, "Sure, if you'd rather go to Y, that's fine with me." Don't freaking turn around and say, "Or we could try Z if you don't like Y."
We already planned on X, why is the hell are we now discussing Z? I am not the docile creature I was years ago. If I don't want to go to Y, I won't agree to go there. If you didn't want to go to X, you shouldn't have agreed in the first place.
Comprende?
Raaaawwwrrrrr.
August 9, 2007
So the Truth Finally Comes Out
(You may want to get some coffee first .... this is a long one)
For the past two and a half years, a beat-up old Cutlass Supreme has been sitting in the only covered parking space available at my house. From my doorway, it looked like a dusty black, but in fact it has red stripes up the hood (spray painted on, thankyouverymuch) and the opposite side of the care is alternately a baby-ish blue and stripped metal. He never got around to painting the other side.
For the fisrt few months, P worked on the car every weekend, sanding down the paint, attempting to hammer out some of the dings, and laying a dingy blue rug throughout the interior to cover the lack of floor panels and ripped blue leather. The car is an eyesore, although that may really be an understatement. A piece of carpet was placed under it so that the oil oozing from the engine would be somewhat soaked up. Two tires are flat, and I found a hubcap in a bush a few weeks ago. The engine will only start if it's jumped, but otherwise that part at least is in decent shape.
The car was not exactly gifted to P. He sort of inherited it when La Tia threatened to send it to the junk yard. His Tio Toto loved that car, and drove it into the ground. When Tio Toto passed away from a misdiagnosed, God-awful cancer which ravaged his body making him unable to eat or walk, but left his razor-sharp mind intact, he gifted the Cutlass to Julio, who didn't have the money to make it driveable, so he left it in front of La Tia's house in Petaluma. And P claimed it.
So for two years, it has sat untouched in our carport, save the readjustments to the cover when the wind blew more than a single gust. Finally he got frustrated with the cover too, and left the car to blind anyone passing by, with it's degraded glory. For two years we begged foregiveness from the neighbors for leaving such an ugly, inoperable, unregistered vehicle park where they were forced to see it daily. And finally they started complaining to the HOA.
So I saw a note on it a few days ago that it was going to be towed. The note was old though, that's how much attention was paid to the car, and it was supposed to be gone a week before I found it. I finally convinced P that we needed to do something with it before they took it from him, and we decided it would be better to donate it to charity than have it torn apart for scrap metal. I looked online, contacted Marin AIDS Project who agreed to come tow it, and as of about 12:30pm yesterday, it was gone.
P had a really rough day. As he walked back into the house and the tow truck was pulling away from the curb, I could see him fighting back tears. There were people around, so I cracked a joke to give him some composure time, and headed back to work.
Last night I stopped at Safeway to get some beer, knowing he needed to grieve and that he wouldn't allow himself to lose face by doing it sober. We danced around the issue for a few hours, but he refused to discuss it, each time we came close tears welled up in his eyes, and he would angrily wipe them away and change the subject. When he finally had enough to drink to let his guard down, the tears streamed down his face and my heart broke open.
I don't understand. I've lost people before, but none were that closed to me. My great grandmother passed recently, and as heartbroken as I was it was more for the loss of life in general, than any real attachment to her as a person. It sounds cruel, but I didn't know her. We had a blood bond, but that was all. My uncle passed a few months after Tio Toto, and again I cried, but I didn't know him well. I mourned the sudden-ness of it, and the suffering my aunt would endure, and he was a good man, but I'd only met him once and so the grieving was relatively short.
But once the tears started flowing they quickly went from genuine grief to this overly dramatic spilling a sip of beer in his name, kissing his hand and holding it over his heart, asking for forgiveness, and I couldn't take it. I snapped. It was only for 10 minutes or so that he did that, and I'm sure I was a complete a-hole in the moment, but I told him to be real. I told him that if he was going to grieve, he needed to do it for the right reason. I said he didn't give away his uncle, he gave away the car, and I apologized for pressuring him, but told him that he needed to keep his Tio Toto in his heart and mourn his death, not giving away a material object that he once owned.
And I think he got it. He sat quietly for a minute, and then said, yes, I was right. He felt guilty that the day before Tio Toto passed away, he had called P to go visit him and he didn't. He regretted not going to say goodbye, and it felt like a double betrayal that he is now giving away the one thing he had left of him.
I remember at his funeral, P didn't want to say goodbye. I basically forced him to go up to the casket and say a prayer for him. I knew that if he didn't do it, as much as he opposed it in the moment, he would not forgive himself for missing that opportunity. I knew there was something wrong at the funeral, but I was busy taking care of the kids so the adults could say their goodbyes, and I never pressured him to tell me.
So there it is. Guilt is an ugly thing. It makes you irrational, and it sucks that people feel so much shame, so much that they can't face what it really is about in order to work through it. I dont' think I did anything to "solve" his problems, but I'm hoping that when he starts to feel that guilt and shame he can remember that it isn't about the car. And anyway, we did a good thing. Hopefully when they auction the car off they'll get enough to help someone out with medications or doctor's appointments or something. Hopefully.
I know this is long, there is a lot to this. But P also said something that broke my heart and confirmed years-old suspicions that I've had.
He said that one of the reasons he felt so close to Tio Toto was that they both loved women their families hated.
Yeah. He finally admitted what I've known for years. His family hated me. I don't think they do anymore, but he made me out to be this crazy American bitch who broke his heart and trampled his self-worth, turning him into a depressed, angry, alcoholic recluse. And then when we got back together, I was the Golden Child. I saved him from himself.
At Tio Toto's funeral, people were whispering about the "other woman." The mother of his children would not allow her to pay her respects, even though he had been divorced for decades and the "other woman" had been by his side, loving him and caring for him when nobody else would. P said he understood the ostracism, loving an American, choosing a woman over his family.
And on some level, I always knew it, although he denied it up and down for the past 7 years, I knew it, and now I can stop worrying about pleasing them. It's hard to be yourself when you have a suspicion someone doesn't like you, but won't admit it. It's a weird feeling. It doens't change my feelings toward them, I love his family, but I'm glad to finally know why I felt so out of place for so many years.
For the past two and a half years, a beat-up old Cutlass Supreme has been sitting in the only covered parking space available at my house. From my doorway, it looked like a dusty black, but in fact it has red stripes up the hood (spray painted on, thankyouverymuch) and the opposite side of the care is alternately a baby-ish blue and stripped metal. He never got around to painting the other side.
For the fisrt few months, P worked on the car every weekend, sanding down the paint, attempting to hammer out some of the dings, and laying a dingy blue rug throughout the interior to cover the lack of floor panels and ripped blue leather. The car is an eyesore, although that may really be an understatement. A piece of carpet was placed under it so that the oil oozing from the engine would be somewhat soaked up. Two tires are flat, and I found a hubcap in a bush a few weeks ago. The engine will only start if it's jumped, but otherwise that part at least is in decent shape.
The car was not exactly gifted to P. He sort of inherited it when La Tia threatened to send it to the junk yard. His Tio Toto loved that car, and drove it into the ground. When Tio Toto passed away from a misdiagnosed, God-awful cancer which ravaged his body making him unable to eat or walk, but left his razor-sharp mind intact, he gifted the Cutlass to Julio, who didn't have the money to make it driveable, so he left it in front of La Tia's house in Petaluma. And P claimed it.
So for two years, it has sat untouched in our carport, save the readjustments to the cover when the wind blew more than a single gust. Finally he got frustrated with the cover too, and left the car to blind anyone passing by, with it's degraded glory. For two years we begged foregiveness from the neighbors for leaving such an ugly, inoperable, unregistered vehicle park where they were forced to see it daily. And finally they started complaining to the HOA.
So I saw a note on it a few days ago that it was going to be towed. The note was old though, that's how much attention was paid to the car, and it was supposed to be gone a week before I found it. I finally convinced P that we needed to do something with it before they took it from him, and we decided it would be better to donate it to charity than have it torn apart for scrap metal. I looked online, contacted Marin AIDS Project who agreed to come tow it, and as of about 12:30pm yesterday, it was gone.
P had a really rough day. As he walked back into the house and the tow truck was pulling away from the curb, I could see him fighting back tears. There were people around, so I cracked a joke to give him some composure time, and headed back to work.
Last night I stopped at Safeway to get some beer, knowing he needed to grieve and that he wouldn't allow himself to lose face by doing it sober. We danced around the issue for a few hours, but he refused to discuss it, each time we came close tears welled up in his eyes, and he would angrily wipe them away and change the subject. When he finally had enough to drink to let his guard down, the tears streamed down his face and my heart broke open.
I don't understand. I've lost people before, but none were that closed to me. My great grandmother passed recently, and as heartbroken as I was it was more for the loss of life in general, than any real attachment to her as a person. It sounds cruel, but I didn't know her. We had a blood bond, but that was all. My uncle passed a few months after Tio Toto, and again I cried, but I didn't know him well. I mourned the sudden-ness of it, and the suffering my aunt would endure, and he was a good man, but I'd only met him once and so the grieving was relatively short.
But once the tears started flowing they quickly went from genuine grief to this overly dramatic spilling a sip of beer in his name, kissing his hand and holding it over his heart, asking for forgiveness, and I couldn't take it. I snapped. It was only for 10 minutes or so that he did that, and I'm sure I was a complete a-hole in the moment, but I told him to be real. I told him that if he was going to grieve, he needed to do it for the right reason. I said he didn't give away his uncle, he gave away the car, and I apologized for pressuring him, but told him that he needed to keep his Tio Toto in his heart and mourn his death, not giving away a material object that he once owned.
And I think he got it. He sat quietly for a minute, and then said, yes, I was right. He felt guilty that the day before Tio Toto passed away, he had called P to go visit him and he didn't. He regretted not going to say goodbye, and it felt like a double betrayal that he is now giving away the one thing he had left of him.
I remember at his funeral, P didn't want to say goodbye. I basically forced him to go up to the casket and say a prayer for him. I knew that if he didn't do it, as much as he opposed it in the moment, he would not forgive himself for missing that opportunity. I knew there was something wrong at the funeral, but I was busy taking care of the kids so the adults could say their goodbyes, and I never pressured him to tell me.
So there it is. Guilt is an ugly thing. It makes you irrational, and it sucks that people feel so much shame, so much that they can't face what it really is about in order to work through it. I dont' think I did anything to "solve" his problems, but I'm hoping that when he starts to feel that guilt and shame he can remember that it isn't about the car. And anyway, we did a good thing. Hopefully when they auction the car off they'll get enough to help someone out with medications or doctor's appointments or something. Hopefully.
I know this is long, there is a lot to this. But P also said something that broke my heart and confirmed years-old suspicions that I've had.
He said that one of the reasons he felt so close to Tio Toto was that they both loved women their families hated.
Yeah. He finally admitted what I've known for years. His family hated me. I don't think they do anymore, but he made me out to be this crazy American bitch who broke his heart and trampled his self-worth, turning him into a depressed, angry, alcoholic recluse. And then when we got back together, I was the Golden Child. I saved him from himself.
At Tio Toto's funeral, people were whispering about the "other woman." The mother of his children would not allow her to pay her respects, even though he had been divorced for decades and the "other woman" had been by his side, loving him and caring for him when nobody else would. P said he understood the ostracism, loving an American, choosing a woman over his family.
And on some level, I always knew it, although he denied it up and down for the past 7 years, I knew it, and now I can stop worrying about pleasing them. It's hard to be yourself when you have a suspicion someone doesn't like you, but won't admit it. It's a weird feeling. It doens't change my feelings toward them, I love his family, but I'm glad to finally know why I felt so out of place for so many years.
July 31, 2007
White Hot Rage
This past weekend, we had another visit from Crazy. It was probably close to midnight, and Will was over having a few drinks. She had called him at least three or four times in the span of an hour, and each time he had told her he was on his way home. At one point, P was inside taking care of business and Will and I were outside talking. Crazy called again and threatened to wake up the Baby to come get him. He reassured her that he was leaving right away, and as soon as he hung up, turned to me and said "If I'm not honest, I know I've got 30 more minutes."
Okay, so granted, their relationship is all types of messed up. He lies, she threatens, he consoles and lies some more, and then she goes off the deep end. He told me he's getting to the point where he just doesn't care anymore. Sad.
But here's what really pisses me off: He knows that if he doesn't go home, she's going to wake the kids up and come looking for him. What kind of father does that? What kind of father would rather lie to stay away from home for an extra 30 minutes when he knows his kids will suffer because of it?
And what kind of selfish biotch mother would do that to her own kids? What crazy-ass person who carried a child for 9 months and went through the pain of childbirth would wake her kids up at midnight, put them in the car, then drive to a house that they most likely recognize, to sit there in the dark while she yells out the car window for him to come home, threatening him with "Don't make me get out of this car, Will!"
What the hell is wrong with these people?
Every time I think about this, my eyes go blank with fury. I'm half-tempted to report these messed-up people to CPS, but I can't figure out who is worse. The Crazy mother who wants her husband home and under her supervision, although from my experience they really don't talk to each other unless they are yelling. Or the drinking, gambling father who will do anything to get out of the house and away from her.
I just don't understand how parents could act in a way that they know their kids will suffer. People like this shouldn't be allowed to raise children together, and I'm all for working things out, but it's been the same old shit for the two years we've known them.
If P and I get to the point that we simply can't get along anymore, we've vowed not to put any of our children in the middle. I'm sure the temptation will be there, since Taryn is the easiest way for us to hurt each other, but we've both been through it ourselves and know how much it can mess a family up.
Okay, so granted, their relationship is all types of messed up. He lies, she threatens, he consoles and lies some more, and then she goes off the deep end. He told me he's getting to the point where he just doesn't care anymore. Sad.
But here's what really pisses me off: He knows that if he doesn't go home, she's going to wake the kids up and come looking for him. What kind of father does that? What kind of father would rather lie to stay away from home for an extra 30 minutes when he knows his kids will suffer because of it?
And what kind of selfish biotch mother would do that to her own kids? What crazy-ass person who carried a child for 9 months and went through the pain of childbirth would wake her kids up at midnight, put them in the car, then drive to a house that they most likely recognize, to sit there in the dark while she yells out the car window for him to come home, threatening him with "Don't make me get out of this car, Will!"
What the hell is wrong with these people?
Every time I think about this, my eyes go blank with fury. I'm half-tempted to report these messed-up people to CPS, but I can't figure out who is worse. The Crazy mother who wants her husband home and under her supervision, although from my experience they really don't talk to each other unless they are yelling. Or the drinking, gambling father who will do anything to get out of the house and away from her.
I just don't understand how parents could act in a way that they know their kids will suffer. People like this shouldn't be allowed to raise children together, and I'm all for working things out, but it's been the same old shit for the two years we've known them.
If P and I get to the point that we simply can't get along anymore, we've vowed not to put any of our children in the middle. I'm sure the temptation will be there, since Taryn is the easiest way for us to hurt each other, but we've both been through it ourselves and know how much it can mess a family up.
July 29, 2007
Sometimes I Suffer to Make a Point
Today we were supposed to be bringing Super Nanny over to the Berkeley Kite Festival for her monthly Au Pair cluster meeting. For the most part, we don't like going to these things, Nanny is bored and seemingly doesn't really want to get to know the other Au Pairs, T-Boogie's schedule is always thrown off because the meetings aren't timed with her naps in mind, and P-Dely and I fight because he's always wanting to get into the shower 5 minutes before we need to be out the door, and I HATE being late to everything just because he can't get his shit together.
But Boogie really likes watching kites, so I was thinking she'd enjoy our required outing today. I woke her up early so she'd be able to get a nap in before we had to leave, and I checked out the food options there so we'd be able to grab some lunch that she could share with us while we watched. But like clockwork at 10:20 P says he's getting in the shower.
And I snapped.
I was all ready to go, my bag was packed with a banana to feed Boogie on the way, all I needed to do was get her up, change her diaper and clothes, and put her in the car. Nanny doesn't have issues like him with getting ready, so I knew at precisely 10:30 she'd be downstairs waiting for us.
I didn't flash on him like I normally do. Yelling doesn't do anything but make him regress, and I didn't want to deal with another child. I told him he didn't have time for a shower, and he had a minor hissy, then went and changed his undershirt and sat back down at the computer without brushing his teeth. I calmly washed my hands, walked over to him, pointed to the directions I had printed out and told him he needed to get Nanny there by 11.
Then I sat on the bed, turned on the monitor, opened up a book and started reading. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring at me, mouth hanging slightly open and a look of shocked disbelief on his face. I don't know if he was waiting for me to start ranting like I normally do, but right now, I'm sick of the same old shit happening. We're locked in this crazy dance that makes us both miserable, and as much as I was dying to take Boogie there, I knew I wouldn't enjoy myself with him being in a pissed-off mood, and I don't want Boogie being around us like that.
So. Now I have to find something else for us to do today. I'm thinking of taking her over to the water park in Terra Linda for a while, so she can splash around and play with the other kids, maybe stopping at Sonoma Taco so we can share a burrito for lunch (this kid LOVES her some chicken burritos). I'm bummed my plans didn't work out, but hopefully P will realize, soon, that I'm not going to cater to his childish actions and tantrums. Because in the past I would have bitched and moaned and we would have gone, and neither of us would have had fun. I'd rather change my plans and enjoy myself than that craziness we used to do.
But Boogie really likes watching kites, so I was thinking she'd enjoy our required outing today. I woke her up early so she'd be able to get a nap in before we had to leave, and I checked out the food options there so we'd be able to grab some lunch that she could share with us while we watched. But like clockwork at 10:20 P says he's getting in the shower.
And I snapped.
I was all ready to go, my bag was packed with a banana to feed Boogie on the way, all I needed to do was get her up, change her diaper and clothes, and put her in the car. Nanny doesn't have issues like him with getting ready, so I knew at precisely 10:30 she'd be downstairs waiting for us.
I didn't flash on him like I normally do. Yelling doesn't do anything but make him regress, and I didn't want to deal with another child. I told him he didn't have time for a shower, and he had a minor hissy, then went and changed his undershirt and sat back down at the computer without brushing his teeth. I calmly washed my hands, walked over to him, pointed to the directions I had printed out and told him he needed to get Nanny there by 11.
Then I sat on the bed, turned on the monitor, opened up a book and started reading. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring at me, mouth hanging slightly open and a look of shocked disbelief on his face. I don't know if he was waiting for me to start ranting like I normally do, but right now, I'm sick of the same old shit happening. We're locked in this crazy dance that makes us both miserable, and as much as I was dying to take Boogie there, I knew I wouldn't enjoy myself with him being in a pissed-off mood, and I don't want Boogie being around us like that.
So. Now I have to find something else for us to do today. I'm thinking of taking her over to the water park in Terra Linda for a while, so she can splash around and play with the other kids, maybe stopping at Sonoma Taco so we can share a burrito for lunch (this kid LOVES her some chicken burritos). I'm bummed my plans didn't work out, but hopefully P will realize, soon, that I'm not going to cater to his childish actions and tantrums. Because in the past I would have bitched and moaned and we would have gone, and neither of us would have had fun. I'd rather change my plans and enjoy myself than that craziness we used to do.
May 21, 2007
Almost Forgot!
P and I had a fabulous dinner at the Seafood Peddler on friday night. We were planning to go to Pings, then Chevy's, then Red Lobster, and in stead headed over to San Rafael since I had never eaten there before. I'd been to that little "club" off the side a few times for parties adn such, and we'd picked up oysters in the entrance part, but never a sit-down meal.
Incredible.
We had an oyster appetizer, something Rockefeller I think. They were over baked with cheese and spinach on them and super-expensive and absolutely delectable. If they weren't $3 each we would have had more, but the food came ver quickly after that, so it was gravy.
Let me just say, we got there around 8:30, the place wasn't packed and there was a live band playing. We had a booth facing the canal, so we could see the stars and trees blowing in the wind and it was so romantic with a glass of wine and some cuddling.
Anyway, P had the mixed grill, a few different kids of fish and some potato thing, and I had the ahi tuna. They were both fab. Loved every bite, and we were full, but not super-stuffed, which was nice. Afterwards we hung out and talked a bit, picked up a couple movies and went home.
It was really nice to be out, just the two of us, and talk and all that jazz. Its odd how your life can feel so full, revolving around your child and you don't realize the important things that are missing until you do them again. We've had a rocky couple weeks, and this was just the refresher we needed.
Nice.
Incredible.
We had an oyster appetizer, something Rockefeller I think. They were over baked with cheese and spinach on them and super-expensive and absolutely delectable. If they weren't $3 each we would have had more, but the food came ver quickly after that, so it was gravy.
Let me just say, we got there around 8:30, the place wasn't packed and there was a live band playing. We had a booth facing the canal, so we could see the stars and trees blowing in the wind and it was so romantic with a glass of wine and some cuddling.
Anyway, P had the mixed grill, a few different kids of fish and some potato thing, and I had the ahi tuna. They were both fab. Loved every bite, and we were full, but not super-stuffed, which was nice. Afterwards we hung out and talked a bit, picked up a couple movies and went home.
It was really nice to be out, just the two of us, and talk and all that jazz. Its odd how your life can feel so full, revolving around your child and you don't realize the important things that are missing until you do them again. We've had a rocky couple weeks, and this was just the refresher we needed.
Nice.
May 13, 2007
Safeway Flowers and a Card
On Tuesday, please nobody mention to me the fact that my husband is a worthless *bleep*ing loser.
For my first Mother's Day, I get Safeway flowers and a card. This *bleep* has the audacity to stay up until 3am drinking...by himself, then when Taryn starts crying in the morning, he bring her downstairs to write her name in a card for me, and *bleep*ing spells it wrong on the outside. What a monumental failure I have been at picking decent men.
So yay for me. Mother's Day sucks.
I don't even have enough money to go do something nice for myself today. All I can do it take Taryn on a walk, and if I don't calm down soon enough, I may go buy my $400 purse on HIS credit card.
What an *bleep*. He spends hundreds of dollars a month on bars, clubs, playing golf with his friends, and Mother's Day rolls around and he is all of a sudden too broke to get me anything? Too lazy to make me breakfast? Too much of a *blee*-*bleep*ing *bleep* to do anything at all for me?
"Oh but Baby, I made you dinner last night!"
Well *bleep*, I cooked every night this week. It was your turn. And since when are empanadas a special dinner for anything???????
Please, don't get me wrong. It's not the lack of a gift I'm pissed about. It's the lack of giving a *bleep* about my emotional well-being in general that has my panties in a bunch. I *bleep*ing deserve some appreciation for what I do, and the one day set aside for that ... zilch.
The baby starts fussing, and all of a sudden he's a *bleep*ing expert. "Maybe she's cold, whay don't you change her diaper, maybe she doesn't want yogurt for breakfast." SHUT THE *BLEEP* UP. When's the last time you changed her diaper, fed her, or put clothes on her? Don't tell me how to do my *bleep*ing job, Idiot.
I know more about Taryn right now than you will in you entire life, because you don't give a flying *bleep* about anyone but yourself. And for the record, I will be a vindictive *bleep* and return the golf clubs I got you for Father's Day.
Happy *Bleep*ing Mother's Day to me.
For my first Mother's Day, I get Safeway flowers and a card. This *bleep* has the audacity to stay up until 3am drinking...by himself, then when Taryn starts crying in the morning, he bring her downstairs to write her name in a card for me, and *bleep*ing spells it wrong on the outside. What a monumental failure I have been at picking decent men.
So yay for me. Mother's Day sucks.
I don't even have enough money to go do something nice for myself today. All I can do it take Taryn on a walk, and if I don't calm down soon enough, I may go buy my $400 purse on HIS credit card.
What an *bleep*. He spends hundreds of dollars a month on bars, clubs, playing golf with his friends, and Mother's Day rolls around and he is all of a sudden too broke to get me anything? Too lazy to make me breakfast? Too much of a *blee*-*bleep*ing *bleep* to do anything at all for me?
"Oh but Baby, I made you dinner last night!"
Well *bleep*, I cooked every night this week. It was your turn. And since when are empanadas a special dinner for anything???????
Please, don't get me wrong. It's not the lack of a gift I'm pissed about. It's the lack of giving a *bleep* about my emotional well-being in general that has my panties in a bunch. I *bleep*ing deserve some appreciation for what I do, and the one day set aside for that ... zilch.
The baby starts fussing, and all of a sudden he's a *bleep*ing expert. "Maybe she's cold, whay don't you change her diaper, maybe she doesn't want yogurt for breakfast." SHUT THE *BLEEP* UP. When's the last time you changed her diaper, fed her, or put clothes on her? Don't tell me how to do my *bleep*ing job, Idiot.
I know more about Taryn right now than you will in you entire life, because you don't give a flying *bleep* about anyone but yourself. And for the record, I will be a vindictive *bleep* and return the golf clubs I got you for Father's Day.
Happy *Bleep*ing Mother's Day to me.
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