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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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9:43 a.m. - 2004-06-11
I am being straight here, no sarcasm at all, okay? I am grateful for how quiet the comments section has been. I’m working through some stuff right now. Duh. Obviously. The need to blow is enormous. It’s like I’ve eaten something rotten and I’ll feel better when I sick it all up. I am furious with my husband. No big surprise there. I’m so goddamn resentful that I could only get his attention by getting rid of a substantial bit of myself! He couldn’t be bothered to be nice to me when I was fat. Everything we didn’t do was because I was fat. We never made it the shore last year because I was fat. Certainly it has nothing to do with his being a workaholic! Our messy house was the reason we didn’t have parties every weekend. How could he, Wonderful Mike, invite anyone over? God! Not only did he have a disgusting and embarrassing fat wife, he had a grungy house too! And of course the mess in our house was entirely MY fault! So. Now he has a non-embarrassing wife and a house so clean dust bunnies are an extinct species. It may sound like I’ve capitulated. Like I’m playing The Complete Woman with my diet and my housecleaning so’s I can please my man. Not at all. You know that scene in Moonstruck where the old woman tells Cher she put a curse on the plane? The old lady cursed it because her sister who was on the plane had stolen a man from her. Stole the man so she (the sister) could be strong on her. I am using my rehabilitation to be strong on Mike. The more weight I lose, the better I feel about myself. The better I feel about myself, the less of his shit I’m willing to take. The cleaner my house is, the more obvious it becomes that Wonderful Mike is a pretty big slob himself. Slowly, but surely I am unraveling his defenses and excuses. His miserable reasons for his shitty behavior. I am hanging his ass out to dry. He broke my trust. He rubbed my nose in my ‘failures’. His arrogant belief that he was pure driven snow and I was evil incarnate was the beat he forced us to dance to. Playing on my willingness to put myself down. How well trained I was to play my part! I came into this relationship fresh off 19 years in Hell. A woman-child with only a dream of peace and happiness. I’d never really had any, but I was sure it was possible. And I put my faith in Mike. Believing anyone who’d come from the Cleaver-esque family like Mike did HAD to be right. What could I know? I was the one with no background. I was the one with the fucked-up family. Ergo I was the one who was wrong. All the time. Every time. Not only did I think that, MIKE thought that. I was damaged goods. A junker. You don’t keep a junker in the garage. You don’t Turtle Wax it. You don’t fix stuff that breaks. With a junker you drive it as hard as you can for as long as you can. And when it dies you replace it. Yeah, I was my husband’s old piece of shit panel truck and according to him he couldn’t be faulted for dream shopping Ferraris. It’s not like he bought them. He talked about them, dreamed about them, he compared me to them and made me bleed. But he didn’t buy one, so everything was fine. Right? I’ve made mistakes. Plenty of them. I’m not claiming total victimhood here. I’m just tired. I’m tired of the wars. I’m tired of not only having to make myself over into something ‘acceptable’, I’m SICK of being in charge of my husband’s make-over. It’s always on me. To fix things. To make him aware of his craptastic way of going on. To figure out what I want from him. He’s never once had to ask me for any kind of physical or emotional support, I’m there with a banquet before he even knows he’s hungry. Yet I have to continually beg for the tiniest of crumbs. He assumes no responsibility for my well-being. If I need something I have to ask. It never occurs to him to bestir himself on my behalf. And I HATE it! Why bother? Why bother to salvage a relationship which has always been so lopsided? Because there’s good. A lot of it. It’s just that right now there’s so much shit to wade through that the bad has eclipsed the good. I have to deal with this toad load of resentment and anger. To make effective change I must pick my battles. I cannot just scream for 6 months. I need to scream, though. That’s where Diaryland comes in. Here is where I do my screaming. Here is where I say all the bitter and mean things I NEED to say. Mike gets his share, no worries. But the distillation process is essential. I scream until the truth emerges. All the sideways and confused shit is barfed up. Once clear of the mess and I’m on top of myself, then I’m able to pick up my lance and begin the joust. I’m going to be spewing a lot. I learned my lesson about holding back and ignoring my anger and resentment. I did that with my awful childhood. It got me nowhere. I WANT things to be right between me and Mike. I want it with all my heart. I’m willing to slug it out. I just need to do a whole lot of sparring between rounds. Metaphorically, ~LA
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