Thank you all for responding to my other thread about ‘can’t go back’ and suggesting ways to help me figure my own mind out. I’m going to try this…it’s going to get messy so please bear with me…
1. I won’t miss the constant need, demand, for my attention. And the constant pull and crazy things he does to get my attention. A long time ago I thought it was kind of sweet, quirky, like he had this great freedom about him…free spirt…and loved me so much that he was willing to act the fool in front of God and anyone to show all…and me…how much I meant to him. But over the years it’s come to be annoying as anything. I like to do arts/crafts at the kitchen table, I like to read and paint, I like to draw, I like to listen to music and sometimes (not much anymore) play solitary cards…and I when I do these things I’m engrossed in what I’m doing. That is one of the things I love about doing these things. Somehow it relaxes my brain and I’m sorta lulled into a meditative state (maybe that’s too strong of a discretion) and before I met him I could and would spend hours and hours doing these things. I could spend the entire night in my room by myself working on one drawing and as I was doing this I was in the world of that drawing. I knew who it was I was drawing, what they were doing at that moment, why they were doing it, what was going to happen next…where they got that piece of jewelry that they wore their parents, grandparents, siblings…well, you get the gist of it. I was engrossed in the story I was creating for that drawing. I can’t do that anymore. My drawings are flat. Not a lot of dimension to them…it’s not an entire life time and history I’m drawing anymore…it’s just a blip…a moment in their time…and when I am unsatisfied with my work so don’t draw like I used to. That bugs me about me. I don’t like that about me. I simply cannot focus on my work like I used to.
Last night I started a new art project at the kitchen table. He was right there, hovering, it took me a long time to really get it going. I’m an ol’ lady now (
) so I don’t stay up nearly as late as I once did. I started this about 5pm and worked on it until about 8pm. It’s nice and I was inspired. He hovered and hovered. I won’t tell you all the things he’s done to distract me cuz some things are just gross and I’m not going to share them. Basically, he always wants sex. Always always. Bleh. It’s old and doesn’t do anything for me…not because he’s old either but because good sex does not start with one whipping out there willy…well, not for me anyway. I’d like romance, seduction, tenderness, kindness…you know the girly girl stuff.
It’s not sweet, it’s not quirky, it’s not a ‘free spirit’ that leads him to this behavior. It’s something much different. There’s no ‘freedom’ in it at all for him. He’s driven to do these things…there’s something deep down inside of him that…is unlike anything I’ve ever known in anyone…it’s a need or a compulsion…or something like that. Nothing to do with me or with freedom.
That is typical of him as I’m doing my own thing. Either that or he gets mad and starts slamming things around breaking my concentration. Finding a reason to be mad about something…heck, making up reasons to be mad about whatever. Or he’s sick, moaning and whining around the house. Loudly. Omg that is something I will not miss at all.
2. I won’t even get into all the sexual stuff. But I won’t miss being part of something that I have no real part of in any meaningful way…and what leaves me feeling empty in the pit of my stomach….and how it seems to be tied to everything else. Will not miss that at all.
3. I won’t miss the stormy silent treatment. Where I ask him ‘what’s wrong’ and get no reply but silence. I won’t miss the hateful ways he acts when he’s mad about something. You know, years ago when I was a little girl my Dad told me something that’s always stuck with me. It was in relation to the word ‘mad’ and the word ‘angry’ he told me that people get angry and animals get mad. People have the emotion of angry because of the way we can think and reason in the way people think and reason…I guess it has something to do with our ability to use logic and how we have free will. He said that animals get mad, because they do not have the same type of brains as we do. They can’t logic and reason the way people can. That animals don’t have the same type of free will that people do. He told me this because we live in a very rural area, there’re dogs that run loose and no matter what I always have a chance of happening on a wild animal, even in my own back yard. He wanted me to understand that you can’t reason with an animal because they don’t think the same way people think. That I can reason with a person who is angry but not an animal who is mad. I think about that. I realize that when my H is upset like that…and I know when it’s *like that*…that he’s mad, pure and simple. He’s not angry, there’s no reasoning with him. No point and will only provoke him further. It’s really kinda sad, you know?
So I’ve learned over the years to not provoke him further. I used to be afraid of him. now I’m not really afraid I’m tired. Sick and tired of him and his madness. He’ll be mad about something and giving me the silent treatment. I ignore him anymore, and do my own thing or leave the house…with the kids…if they can’t come with me then I stay at the house and just ignore him. Which gets him madder. He might slam out the door and peel out of the drive way really fast…
And the thing is that I’m a direct kinda person. I would much rather be direct about things, if something’s bothering you then let’s talk about it. But that’s not how he is….it’s like he changes his story somehow…we’ll be arguing about this and all the sudden it’s about that…and then I’m defending myself against this….then I’m like what the hell just happened…and left wondering what, if anything, has been accomplished. It’s so hard to resolve anything, well, nothing ever gets resolved really. Just pushed aside and we move on….swept under the rug, yes. We have a very lumpy rug. I’ve tried to address issues but it’s hard to keep the convo on task and we end up way over in left field somehow.
I remember one time he was trying to tell me that someone told him that I did xyz…I grabbed the keys to the car and said “Let’s go see so and so and we’ll get to the bottom of this right now.” Of course he wouldn’t go and he changed the subject. I’ve told him many times “That’s not what we are talking about right now” and tried to keep the convo on task, but I guess I’m not good at that because we end up on some other convo anyway. Really, all this has amounted in me just not trying anymore. Not talking to him. Not participating in those convo’s when he gets like that. I’ve gotten out of bed in the middle of the night and started getting ready to leave…he asked me “what are you doing?” and I told him that I was leaving. He made threats against my brother at that point if I left and so I stayed. Straight pissed me off, really.
About 5 yrs ago I started to refuse to get in the car with him when he’s mad. I’ve told him to pull over and let me out (which he will not). I’ve walked home from places because I wouldn’t get in the car with him. Which pisses him off. But I will not get in the car with him when he’s like that anymore. I will not put myself in the position where I’m silently praying to God, please just let me get home to see my kids, please, please….it’s hateful and I won’t do it anymore.
4. Making memories. This is something that goes back a long way with me, with us. I was so young…and naive…but I can’t say that I didn’t know because I did know I just didn’t pay attention, pushed it aside, tried to ignore…you probably understand. I had a good childhood with lots of good memories of my dad of my brother, my early memories weren’t as good…the ones with my entire family….and there are some not so good ones when I was living with my dad too but none connected to him or to my brother. I remember when my H and I had our first baby, I remember when she was about 6 mo.’s old. I remember telling him….fighting back tears as I was telling him…that I wanted her to have good happy memories of her childhood. I wanted to her to be able to look back and recall good memories….this was after yet another crazy making fight we had…I have no idea what we fought about…heck, mostly to this day I don’t really know what we fight about…stupid things that get turned around and made into something else….mostly cuz he wants some (you know) and I’m not in the mood…and all hell breaks loose…and then if I ask him it’s not about that at all…it’s…hell, I don’t even f’ing know what the hell….I’ve stopped participating in those stupid arguments years ago…but he still gets a bug up his you know what from time to time and tries to go there….mostly he uses the excuse that his back hurts, or his head hurts, or his sinuses or his shoulders or his stomach…it’s always something and it’s never really his fault he just hurts and “You’d get crabby to if you had to live with all this pain everyday!” (boo-hoo)... .and that makes me feel heartless for feeling like that towards him, you know?
Anyway back to the memories…I wanted to travel all over, see things do things take the kids to Disney Land…go to Paris and Italy, go tour the old castles….or at least go to the dang beach or camping in the summers…so I wanted to make these great memories of us and for your kids…and yes for me too….and there’s always something that comes up or he just out right refuses. Me, yea I’m a sucker and really believe (yet to this day) that these types of things should be decided on jointly and agreed upon by both partners (heck that’s lots of money, time, etc) and so like a fool I’ve allowed him to decide by not deciding.
So what do our kids remember? I’m afraid to ask them. Really I am so I won’t. I don’t want to bring it up and take them back…because their dad and I fought a lot, yelled and hollered. Drank too much and hollered some more. But we fought sober too. I’m not going to say it was all his fault because I have to own my own behavior, so I do. I placated, and turned a cheek to some crazy things…I took him back more than once after he cheated on me…and ‘pretended’ like he was faithful even when he wasn’t actively in a side relationship…which happened twice but if I’m honest with myself then there were lots of ONS along the way. I hid the tears and the bruise. I remember one time we were arguing and yelling hard…I haven’t the slightest idea what we were arguing about (probably because I didn’t put the toilet seat up!) and he was getting ready to slam out and take off…yet again…and I took my rings off and threw them at him yelling “Why are you always leaving? How about I’m the one who leaves this time!” which of course I wouldn’t do, couldn’t do, and leave him there, mad, with the kids. The kids were young then, probably about 5 & 3 at the time. Scared, quite, sad. That breaks my heart. My kids don’t talk about any of this, any of what they experienced or what they’ve seen. I’m afraid of that for them but also for me.
My son, he’s a great guy. He’s like his Grampa, my dad, honorable. Kind, smart, quite, funny, intelligent. He asked me this summer if I remember when the fish tank broke, which I do…he says “How did that break mom?” and I didn’t reply…so he says “I think dad accidently hit it with his watch…” and I still didn’t reply. How do I tell him that what happened was he and his sister and I went to the beach for the afternoon and when we got back dad was drunk as a skunk and ready to fight? How do I tell him that I hustled us all right on out of there and we went and hung out with my sister and friends until about 10pm…when I thought his dad would be passed out and when we got home he was even drunker and madder…and how do I tell him that we hid in his sisters room listening to his dad break every dish in the kitchen…throwing them one by one on the floor and that I tried to leave again with him and his sister and his dad wouldn’t let us leave…that his dad started pushing me backward…and how do I tell him that we went back into his sisters room to hid and I was trying to figure out the safest way to handle this situation….I thought about jumping out the window but he would have caught us…how do I tell him that he punched the fish tank and shattered it…and then I left them in that room and told them to go to sleep and I went and handled their dad…in the only way I knew would work…and it makes me feel dirty and icky and like a worthless ___…but it worked…and in the morning I cleaned everything up as he slept….and I cried and I cried and I cried….but my kids were safe. How do I tell my son this?
I don’t. I don’t tell him. I won’t tell him. He may end up hating me for leaving his dad but I won’t ever tell him this. Never. (wow, that was hard to write)…that’s all I can write for now…this has taken me days to write and I’m exhausted.
