Not battered, not broken, just bruised
A deep bruise that doesn't show
Touch and the pain awakens deep down
You keep poking and poking
So that I'll never heal
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
When is enough enough?
Twenty years of being blamed for everything that has gone wrong. Twenty years of having to judge how much he's had to drink, what mood is he in, how much will he remember, catching hell when you guess wrong. I'm not perfect. I'm a lousy housewife. I can't cook. I can't handle money well. I thought I was paying my dues by being denied real affection, never a unsolicited hug or kiss.
He claims we are supposed to be a team when all he wants is for me to agree with whatever crazy drunken lecture he decides to deliver after hours in his workshop. I do my best to agree when I see that his intentions are good but his method is ineffective. I tell the kids the abbreviated version later and assure them that their father is not a raving lunatic.
Sometimes I guess wrong. Sometimes he is more aware and that's when he gets angry. His idle threats are almost laughable now and rarely upset me. Sometimes, when he is more coherent, his screaming and name calling can really hurt. What hurts the most is that the kids are more aware now. This hurts because I wonder how my son will learn to treat women; how will my daughter allow the men in her life to treat her? I kid myself into thinking that they are learning conflict resolution. Tomorrow he won't remember half of what he said, and I am really good at letting things slide. By the weekend we will be civil and the argument will be all but forgotten. Sure Mommy and Daddy yell and scream, but when the dust settles they are still there for each other. I learned at an early age about "keeping up appearances" and it has served me well.
Why do I put up with it? There are a couple of reasons. Most importantly is that he loves his children. He would do anything for them. Apparently this means sticking with me through this miserable existence. I guess that's also the biggest thing we have in common. The second reason is mainly financial. I think we would both agree that if we could afford to live in separate households we would. Since there is no infidelity and no abuse there is really no reason pushing us to live apart.
We get along sometimes. Mainly when we are enjoying the accomplishments of the children. With the exception of our son's involvement in the Young Marines they are usually achievements he hears about second hand. I don't fault him for that. He makes it to the important ones if work responsibilities don't interfere. This is the curse of being a daddy.
I gladly sacrifice my happiness to give my children everything I never had, a two parent household with parents that hold their children's interests above their own. I've made it this far and through far worse than this. They are the greater good and I will honor my vow of "through good times and in bad". I've been through worse.
He claims we are supposed to be a team when all he wants is for me to agree with whatever crazy drunken lecture he decides to deliver after hours in his workshop. I do my best to agree when I see that his intentions are good but his method is ineffective. I tell the kids the abbreviated version later and assure them that their father is not a raving lunatic.
Sometimes I guess wrong. Sometimes he is more aware and that's when he gets angry. His idle threats are almost laughable now and rarely upset me. Sometimes, when he is more coherent, his screaming and name calling can really hurt. What hurts the most is that the kids are more aware now. This hurts because I wonder how my son will learn to treat women; how will my daughter allow the men in her life to treat her? I kid myself into thinking that they are learning conflict resolution. Tomorrow he won't remember half of what he said, and I am really good at letting things slide. By the weekend we will be civil and the argument will be all but forgotten. Sure Mommy and Daddy yell and scream, but when the dust settles they are still there for each other. I learned at an early age about "keeping up appearances" and it has served me well.
Why do I put up with it? There are a couple of reasons. Most importantly is that he loves his children. He would do anything for them. Apparently this means sticking with me through this miserable existence. I guess that's also the biggest thing we have in common. The second reason is mainly financial. I think we would both agree that if we could afford to live in separate households we would. Since there is no infidelity and no abuse there is really no reason pushing us to live apart.
We get along sometimes. Mainly when we are enjoying the accomplishments of the children. With the exception of our son's involvement in the Young Marines they are usually achievements he hears about second hand. I don't fault him for that. He makes it to the important ones if work responsibilities don't interfere. This is the curse of being a daddy.
I gladly sacrifice my happiness to give my children everything I never had, a two parent household with parents that hold their children's interests above their own. I've made it this far and through far worse than this. They are the greater good and I will honor my vow of "through good times and in bad". I've been through worse.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Bottomless Pit
Things are bad. Things are really bad. I keep waiting for things to turn around and start improving, but I don't think there is a bottom. What's the problem? Money.
We are broke. We are broker than broke. I'm not really sure how it got this bad. I know it has to do with the mismanagement of my severance package and the 6 months it took me to find a job with a comparable salary.
All of our credit cards are out of commission so it's paycheck to paycheck. Well, we are actually a few paychecks behind. I live in fear of the repo man because I'm scared to find out how far we are behind on the car notes. The transmission might be going out on one and the other needs new tires.
Twenty years ago, at pre-martial counseling, the minister shook his head upon discovering that neither of us was good with money. Strangely enough that's not what we really fight about. Come to think of it we never really talk about money. I guess that's because it doesn't ever a discussion about what to do, but of whose to blame. He still has the his and hers mentality. After almost 20 years you would think somethings would be ours.
We are both really bad about not denying the kids a lot of things. Not necessarily material things, but also opportunities. That's mostly my fault. I was never given any opportunities to do things and experience things. If they have an interest in a sport or activity I can't say no.
I don't pay bills....I pay cut-off notices and reconnect fees. The really sad thing is we only owe about $25,ooo and that includes a few credit cards and the balances on both car notes. It's like drowning within site of the shore.
We are broke. We are broker than broke. I'm not really sure how it got this bad. I know it has to do with the mismanagement of my severance package and the 6 months it took me to find a job with a comparable salary.
All of our credit cards are out of commission so it's paycheck to paycheck. Well, we are actually a few paychecks behind. I live in fear of the repo man because I'm scared to find out how far we are behind on the car notes. The transmission might be going out on one and the other needs new tires.
Twenty years ago, at pre-martial counseling, the minister shook his head upon discovering that neither of us was good with money. Strangely enough that's not what we really fight about. Come to think of it we never really talk about money. I guess that's because it doesn't ever a discussion about what to do, but of whose to blame. He still has the his and hers mentality. After almost 20 years you would think somethings would be ours.
We are both really bad about not denying the kids a lot of things. Not necessarily material things, but also opportunities. That's mostly my fault. I was never given any opportunities to do things and experience things. If they have an interest in a sport or activity I can't say no.
I don't pay bills....I pay cut-off notices and reconnect fees. The really sad thing is we only owe about $25,ooo and that includes a few credit cards and the balances on both car notes. It's like drowning within site of the shore.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
A warning to all parents
Once you make the decision to be open and honest with your kids about sex you need to understand it encompasses more than just the basic birds and bees talk. I thought the hard part was over once we covered the penis and vagina part. We even got through menstruation fairly unscathed. Little did we know the flood gates were yet to open.
OK, so we freaked a tiny bit when our 5th grade daughter asked us what a hand job was, but true to our promise we explained as honestly as we could. We even survived almost daily "pube"checks with our son as neared puberty. I was naive enough to think the boy would be the easy one. I guess that's because I'm not one and I didn't understand all they go through in becoming men.
Like most little boys he has been fascinated by his penis since he was little. Running around naked has been his favorite pastime since he could walk. When he was about 5 we were on vacation, and he was drying himself after his bath. He had dried that area so thoroughly that he was amazed when he got it to stand at attention. He yelled for everyone to look. "Look what I made it do."
More recently it has taken to achieving full mast status because the wind blew a certain way. This was something I expected with a little boy. This I wasn't surprised about. But when your son comes to you and says "Mom, can you look at my junk. It's all red and swollen." you need to steel yourself for the task. I went into full-on nurse mode expecting poison ivy from peeing in the woods. I quickly realized this was not something that mommy needed to address. I referred him to his father, who, after the prerequisite jokes about where he may or may not have been putting it, quickly determined the cause.
No mother should be included in the conversation with her 13 year old son about acceptable lubricants for "rubbing one out". It's times like these that I wish my husband and son enjoyed fishing or hunting or any activity that would offer them the opportunity to discuss these sorts of things.
I will say this for my husband, he held true to our pact of discussing anything and everything openly and honestly. I held up my end by sitting catatonic on the couch and trying to pretend I wasn't hearing everything I was hearing.
OK, so we freaked a tiny bit when our 5th grade daughter asked us what a hand job was, but true to our promise we explained as honestly as we could. We even survived almost daily "pube"checks with our son as neared puberty. I was naive enough to think the boy would be the easy one. I guess that's because I'm not one and I didn't understand all they go through in becoming men.
Like most little boys he has been fascinated by his penis since he was little. Running around naked has been his favorite pastime since he could walk. When he was about 5 we were on vacation, and he was drying himself after his bath. He had dried that area so thoroughly that he was amazed when he got it to stand at attention. He yelled for everyone to look. "Look what I made it do."
More recently it has taken to achieving full mast status because the wind blew a certain way. This was something I expected with a little boy. This I wasn't surprised about. But when your son comes to you and says "Mom, can you look at my junk. It's all red and swollen." you need to steel yourself for the task. I went into full-on nurse mode expecting poison ivy from peeing in the woods. I quickly realized this was not something that mommy needed to address. I referred him to his father, who, after the prerequisite jokes about where he may or may not have been putting it, quickly determined the cause.
No mother should be included in the conversation with her 13 year old son about acceptable lubricants for "rubbing one out". It's times like these that I wish my husband and son enjoyed fishing or hunting or any activity that would offer them the opportunity to discuss these sorts of things.
I will say this for my husband, he held true to our pact of discussing anything and everything openly and honestly. I held up my end by sitting catatonic on the couch and trying to pretend I wasn't hearing everything I was hearing.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
What's that at the end of the tunnel, a light? Nope, just a train.
I've got this jumped up feeling like I'm about to explode out of my skin. I imagine it's what people who spontaneously combust feel like right before they burst into flames. I have a nervous stomach which feels like it's full of butterflies only, in keeping with my mood, I'm sure it's more like flying cockroaches. I'm swinging from feeling generally pretty good about things to feeling much more than my usual doom and gloom.
I had issues when I was younger of wishing something bad would happen to me, a terrible illness or a horrible accident. For the most part, and mostly for my kids sake, I've put these sort of feelings behind me. But lately I've been feeling something similar to those old feelings. I would never, I repeat, NEVER do anything to take myself away from my kids.
I have sacrificed my own happiness to make sure they have a relatively normal childhood. Sure their father is an alcoholic, but he isn't a violent drunk. The worst they've had to endure is unending lectures that either ramble aimlessly or go around in circles. Plus the sight of him shaking with the d.t.'s on weekend mornings is enough to scare them straight.
The last thing they need is a mother who's gone off the deep end. I'm sure I'll be able to pull it together. It just feels a little like riding your bike too fast down a steep hill. You know you've got everything under control, but you still can't help feel like you are going to lose your balance. Let's hope I get to the bottom of this hill unscathed and soon!
I had issues when I was younger of wishing something bad would happen to me, a terrible illness or a horrible accident. For the most part, and mostly for my kids sake, I've put these sort of feelings behind me. But lately I've been feeling something similar to those old feelings. I would never, I repeat, NEVER do anything to take myself away from my kids.
I have sacrificed my own happiness to make sure they have a relatively normal childhood. Sure their father is an alcoholic, but he isn't a violent drunk. The worst they've had to endure is unending lectures that either ramble aimlessly or go around in circles. Plus the sight of him shaking with the d.t.'s on weekend mornings is enough to scare them straight.
The last thing they need is a mother who's gone off the deep end. I'm sure I'll be able to pull it together. It just feels a little like riding your bike too fast down a steep hill. You know you've got everything under control, but you still can't help feel like you are going to lose your balance. Let's hope I get to the bottom of this hill unscathed and soon!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Emotional Bulimia
I've decided to give my personal issues the name "emotional bulimia". I gorge myself on low self-esteem, self doubt and self loathing. Then, once I've internalized all the crap I can stand I find a way to purge in the most unhealthy way possible.
When I was younger it was self-mutilation. Yes, I was a "cutter" before it was cool. Today I can usually judge my stress level by the number of fingernails that have had their cuticles ripped out down to the knuckle.
When I got older it was promiscuous sex. I let guys treat me like a doormat because I felt like a doormat. I would seek out dangerous situations in the hopes that I would be one of those girls you hear about on the news. In high school I let a guy pick me up from the bus stop. He claimed to be a new student who needed directions. It turns out he was, but he still hit the "easy chick" jackpot. I met a Marine at a bar and left with him and his friend.
I haven't purged in a long time. I'm either feeling better about myself, found a better way to deal with my pent up emotions or I'm due to blow like Mount St. Helens. For the record I hope it is one of the first two.
When I was younger it was self-mutilation. Yes, I was a "cutter" before it was cool. Today I can usually judge my stress level by the number of fingernails that have had their cuticles ripped out down to the knuckle.
When I got older it was promiscuous sex. I let guys treat me like a doormat because I felt like a doormat. I would seek out dangerous situations in the hopes that I would be one of those girls you hear about on the news. In high school I let a guy pick me up from the bus stop. He claimed to be a new student who needed directions. It turns out he was, but he still hit the "easy chick" jackpot. I met a Marine at a bar and left with him and his friend.
I haven't purged in a long time. I'm either feeling better about myself, found a better way to deal with my pent up emotions or I'm due to blow like Mount St. Helens. For the record I hope it is one of the first two.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Dear You,
I am going to warn you. This is going to sound like it was written by a love-sick teenager. I can't help it. In my memories of you this is how I will always be, an overgrown love-sick teenager.
I know why you mean so much to me even after all these years. You were the first person to show me unconditional love. Sure, I've always known that my family loved me in their own way. It always seemed to be because they had to, familial ties and all that junk. You were the first person to love me because you wanted to, and sometimes even when you didn't want to. And I was myself with you. I wasn't playing my usual game of being who I need to be to fit in.
It's been over 20 years since that summer we spent together and leaving things the way I did has been my biggest regret. I was scared. No, I was terrified. The cliche' has always been that it is so much better to be with someone you love, but most cliche's are based on fact.
I was no angel before we were together, but those escapades were more about acting out than real emotions. I was totally unprepared for the feelings I had when I was with you. I felt the depth of your feelings for me and suddenly felt inadequate and unworthy. I wanted nothing more than to be worthy of that level of love.
I wouldn't have left town with you because I was still afraid to rock the boat when it came to dealing with my family. I like to believe that this was a good thing for you. I see your life now and I am immensely happy for you. You have grown into an amazing man with a great family.
I wish you continued happiness, and I will always love you for showing me what real love is.
I know why you mean so much to me even after all these years. You were the first person to show me unconditional love. Sure, I've always known that my family loved me in their own way. It always seemed to be because they had to, familial ties and all that junk. You were the first person to love me because you wanted to, and sometimes even when you didn't want to. And I was myself with you. I wasn't playing my usual game of being who I need to be to fit in.
It's been over 20 years since that summer we spent together and leaving things the way I did has been my biggest regret. I was scared. No, I was terrified. The cliche' has always been that it is so much better to be with someone you love, but most cliche's are based on fact.
I was no angel before we were together, but those escapades were more about acting out than real emotions. I was totally unprepared for the feelings I had when I was with you. I felt the depth of your feelings for me and suddenly felt inadequate and unworthy. I wanted nothing more than to be worthy of that level of love.
I wouldn't have left town with you because I was still afraid to rock the boat when it came to dealing with my family. I like to believe that this was a good thing for you. I see your life now and I am immensely happy for you. You have grown into an amazing man with a great family.
I wish you continued happiness, and I will always love you for showing me what real love is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
