Saturday, July 26, 2014

Saturday night's alright

You know you've reached a whole new level when you find yourself alone, in a bar, listening to a bad ass band on a Saturday night. 

I'm still trying to decide if this is a new high or a whole new low. 

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

gratitude

If there's one thing we do well, it's polite aloofness. 

I imagine that will make things a lot easier. 

As bad as this sucks, it's not necessarily a bad thing. I prefer to look at it as though he's done me a favor, perhaps even sacrificed something to do so. That, I can appreciate. 

Perhaps he figures this is my only chance for happiness. 

Monday, July 14, 2014

no point

He told his mother today. 

She said oh no, counseling doesn't work. 

Well of course it doesn't work when your husband is gay. 

He explained, no, it wasn't that, it was that at the first session the counselor asked them if they were there to fix it or not and he said, "not."

Yea, I know all about that. My momma answered the same question the same way when I was 15 and yea, counseling doesn't help a damn bit then. 

Sunday, July 13, 2014

exactly

He says he thinks we should just end the marriage. 

He says that he doesn't want to go to a marriage counselor because he doesn't want to bare his soul to a stranger. 

"You can't even bare your soul to me," I retorted. 

"Exactly."

Wow. 

I can't say I'm surprised, but it's still disappointing to have it confirmed that you're just not worth the effort. 

Of course, that may not be fair to say. After all, he has put up with me for ten years and that takes a tremendous effort in itself. 

Thursday, July 10, 2014

correlation

So I came home to pizza and the news that he has to meet with his boss in the morning because he's been fucking up and "not putting as much effort into it as maybe he should". 

I asked him if he found it incredibly ironic that if he got fired tomorrow it would be because he wasn't putting forth enough effort because he didn't want to be there anyway. He said no, that he didn't think it was ironic, he thought it was just sad. 

I don't think he gets the correlation. I find it absolutely fucking incredible!!!

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

never again

I was living with my Daddy's sister when I tried to kill myself. I had been dropped off there 8 months earlier, shortly after my 16th birthday. 

"I'll always be your Daddy, I'll always love you," he told me as we traveled. 

I was the one who had wanted to leave. I'd been begging to leave since 2nd grade. He was angry that I was destroying his family and forcing him to choose between me and my Momma. I had walked away from the house, sleeping in the woods during an epic snowtorm, refusing to live at home again as long as she was still there. 

I loved my Daddy but I swore that I would never again live in a house with people who did not love me. 

So he took me to his sister's house two states away. I didn't really know her, but figured it was better than home. He promised he would stay in touch, that he would come see me, that he would always love me. 

He left several days later, assured that I would stay put and stay out of trouble. He said I could call him anytime I wanted, as much as I wanted and that he'd always love me.

Eigth months passed and I hadn't seen him. Momma and I weren't speaking, which was fine with me, but he told me that I couldnt call the house anymore because it upset her. I needed to call him at work if I wanted to talk to him. I went to school and worked while he was at work. 

I was in a strange place, with someone else's family, hanging out with someone else's friends. 

I don't remember what pushed me over the edge. Maybe I called the house only to be hung up on, or told to call him back at work the next day. Maybe I called my Granny and got some snarky lecture about how bad I was fucking up my life. Maybe I was just exhausted. I didn't sleep much back then.

I just remember the overwhelming swell of every emotion I'd ever felt, followed by a devastating emptiness that settled over me like a thick fog. It didn't matter, it wasn't worth it. Nothing mattered. 

I knew absolutely nothig about pharmacology at that point in my life so I didn't realize that the bottle of prescription strength decongestant woud counteract the bottle of OTC sleeping pills. Had I only taken one or the other, I probably would've gone to sleep and simply not woken up. Instead I took all of both. I was fucked up for three days, and sick as a damn dog all night. 

I remember pin-balling my way down the hallway, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I was certain the laughing family in the living room could hear it. After puking for what seemed like an eternity, pissed that things weren't going according to plan, I grabbed the bathroom counter to steady myself and looked up. My reflection startled me - pale, with hollowed eyes and pupils so large my green eyes looked black as coal. 

I swore I would never again allow myself to slip that far. 

I pin-balled through the next coulple of days...wandering the halls of the high school, being led to class by my cousins and their friends, unable to remember my new locker combination. They all laughed at how high I was.

When the new year rolled around, and I still hadn't seen or heard from my Daddy, I told my aunt what I'd done. I heard her on the phone later that night. 

"I don't care," she said angrily. "I didn't think this was going to be permanent. You better bring your ass down here and see her.....even if you just send her a card a week.....you either do something or you come get her." 

A few days later my Daddy showed up. He was pissed. He left with assurances that I'd stay put and that I'd stay out of trouble. 

He sent me a card a week for 6-8 weeks. They were sweet cards with thoughtful pre-fab messages. He signed them using his first name.

My aunt put me on lockdown. I had to quit my job and couldn't even go outside to smoke without an escort. No one ever took me to a doctor or anything. It stayed that way until the end of the school year when I moved to anther state to live with my snarky Granny. 

I will never again live in a house where I am not loved. I will never again slip that far. And I will never again beg someone to love me. 

My husband doesn't seem to get that, but then again, he may not have heard that story. 

Sunday, July 6, 2014

unfortunate

As we're lying in the dark, unable to sleep after an argument, we have the following conversation:

Me: If I could afford the house payment and rent I would move out.

Him: What?

Me: I think that's one of those perception things. I think you think I'm playing when I talk about running away from home but I'm not.

Him: Well that's unfortunate.

We are then silent, the weight of that left unsaid is suffocating.