I may only come here to bitch… it seems that way…
The husband sucks. We had an argument tonight, because I’m tired of being so fucking micromanaged.
My whole life, I’m always in trouble…
I’ve learned how to just operate that way. That I must be doing something wrong all the time, and someone will point it out, hold me accountable, and punish me. My parents, boyfriends, and now my fucking job.
I’m sick of being a fucking saint and still being in trouble. I know if you read this whole blog you may likely counter with, “you are NOT a saint,” but I need to make it very clear that I am now. And have been since before my babe was born in a lot of ways. And I was a saint long before this blog existed for a very long time.
I have been a good girl forever, but I’m always in trouble.
My parents literally looked for me to be doing things wrong. Nothing was ever good enough for them. They were perfectionists.
My mom was. My mom did those things. Pushing me to do way more than what should be expected of a human and pushing me to do it perfectly.
She taught me how to mop our kitchen floor when we lived on the farm. That means before 5th grade. She taught me how to get down on hands and knees and wash baseboards. Before the age of 10. I’m not saying this wasn’t a good thing in a lot of ways, but damn bro.
Then the boyfriends in life - I was always in trouble. “You’re too pretty when you wear makeup.” “You’ve gained weight, and I’m not as attracted to you.”
My ex husband was just as perfection-seeking as my parents. And just as codependent. And just as critical. And felt just as entitled. And I allowed it, because I genuinely didn’t know any better.
I’ll never forget the ex hubby work party... about a million years ago toward the start of this literal blog.
We met up downtown with a very mixed group of people from his job one evening in the Ville. It was a little cold outside, so we went to a dive with Christmas lights and cozied up at some tables with pitchers. When I think of that evening, there’s a warm glow to the images my mind conjures. Shades of gold and long sleeves and damp alleys. A coworker of his, a sassy blonde tomboy-ish lesbian that didn’t particularly like him, was there. They were cordial, and everyone just got drunk together and had a great time. And at one moment in the evening, I said something funny. Everyone at the table laughed. I had them captivated. I am funny, you know… I had a “pleased with myself” smile on my face, I’m sure, and I glanced over at the girl. She had laughed at my joke, but her smile was fading, and she shook her head a little like she was snapping out of a daze. She was drunk. And then out of her mouth to my ex, the only voice in the room speaking over the music, she said, “I can’t believe YOU'RE with THAT.”
He was so pissed. I laughed it off, but I think in retrospect it was eye opening. This chick was fire herself. Like I should have dated her instead…
I’ve been told every man I have given the time of day to is not good enough for me. Maybe everyone was right.
Because here after that shitty one, another shitty one.
Tonight’s saga has left me without my ring on. The little one asked for something. I went to the kitchen to do it. In the process of me doing it, my husband starts dictating to me how to and what to do and not do. And I’m essentially like “stop being controlling,” and he fires back that I’m just lazy.
Ironically part of my frustration with being micromanaged, is that since he got his shiny new job 3 weeks ago, he has stopped doing the vast majority of household things, while I on the other hand, have not. The list of what I do daily versus him is staggeringly different atm, as I was trying to be sensitive to his starting a job and just do things for a bit to help.
But I’m over that shit.
I’ve been doing fucking everything as well as my full time job while he only works his job. And I still make more money that him. Tonight I didn’t have a plan for dinner, so he just didn’t eat real food. But I am the lazy one?
I might be a lot of fucked up things, but lazy is not one of them.
I intimately know what lazy looks like. I was born to lazy. I grew up with lazy. And I talk to lazy every fucking day. I know the difference between lazy and uncaring or hurting or trying and failing.
How do I get off work, and within 5 minutes I’m being told I’m not good enough in some capacity?? So just to keep track: parents echoing in my brain for eternity I’m in trouble, job says I’m in trouble, husband say not good enough.
Earlier this week, a similar moment transpired where this motherfucker was being so controlling that he literally took a fry pan out of my hand while I was doing dishes.
So this evening I stupidly tried to point out to him that what he’s doing and his headspace are super damaging to our relationship. I saw it click. I can always see the moment when it clicks. It’s like visceral, like it almost makes its’ own sound. I saw it. But he was so fucking heightened idk if it stuck or will. And because he was so heightened, he just kept telling me he didn’t care about me or my feelings, even tho I just saw it click. When he gets like that, it’s like rationale is chasing him but cannot catch up in time to make it to this interaction.
Then he said this is not worth it. That it’s never been worth it. He said he doesn’t care that my feelings get hurt when he calls me names. That he doesn’t care about my feelings at all, and this has never been worth it.
So I gave back my ring.
And said when he gave it to me, we were in a certain place and it meant a certain thing, and if he truly feels I’m lazy, that he doesn’t know or see me at all. And if he truly feels it isn’t worth it, then that’s the opposite of what this ring means. So he can keep it. I clarified what he said to me and that he meant it - he doesn’t care and it’s not worth it. He confirmed. I then noted that I’m not letting this just slip by. If he doesn’t address remorsefully our issues, I’m probably going to leave him.
He put the ring on my night stand.
I set it on his knee and left the room.
Now both are sitting on top of his dresser. And somehow I have a container of weed on my shelf. Which was actually brought up also. Because he used to be cool about it.
He just used to be cool…
The worst thing about being with an alcohol is that if and when they get sober, you realize you actually liked parts of the alcoholic part of them.
Now he’s just a fucking angry uptight square.
Let’s see what he does with his ring in the morning as he gets ready to go to work, shall we?
