I'm pissed off and out of steam. don't want to talk about how we talk. stop trying to explain yourself calmly now when you already told me what you really think of me saturday night. great date, by the way. I enjoyed every minute together laughing with our friends and your friends and their friends...until you told me why you weren't. why the fuck do you let me go on for hours if you think I'm embarrassing you? why don't you sulk or something so I get the hint and shut up? I wasn't even drinking, you were the one who encouraged she add rum to my diet coke. what did you expect, hotter sex? ding, ding, ding, what did he win instead? a mean bitch who jokes and barbs at his expense. whata' catch!
did you bring your compound bow, cuz you may need to go postal on her ass when her mouth starts opening.
twenty years ago I was oblivious. twenty years later I'm surprised. did we just wake up from a twenty year dream? are we still fresh college grads, groping each other in front of joe public and not giving a shit who knows we are, oops, pregnant? Or was I too blind to pick up on the doubts you garnered after your parents warned you about my ulterior motives? oh yeah, I had motives...I motivated myself to be strong and brave while our first child grew inside of me. I motivated my way to my parents' homes to tell them I fucked up and was moving on. I motivated my tears to hide and my dreams to be put on hold. Motivated to find my way in dimly lit reality. After all, we had each other and we were in love. cliches can be useful when telling oneself everything will be OK.
So impressions are important now. Like every Christmas we stuffed into your childhood home, chasing toddlers away from accidents waiting to happen, sleeping on a soggy mattress in an unheated room, fielding canned beer from the basement for the men, posing for photos with crabby babies and crabbier adults, pretending to like the gifts we opened and pretending to know who we received from, attempting conversation without giving away family secrets, fielding career questions and parenting tips from those who wanted us to know better. Impressed? not likely. Confused? me too. Why do you hold me accountable for who I am when you know exactly what I'm made of?
another cliche: buyer beware. I know who you are and I adjust. I live with the good and move around the unpleasant. I expect no perfection, no platitudes. I'm over that, under that, been there, done that. Why do you seem to suffer so at the foundation of our differences, now, twenty years past the I do's and I don't know how? I sit in our kitchen at 2:46 am, typing while you sleep because I'm gonna burst if I don't get this out. Purging. Releasing. Silently shouting at myself as my head hangs in shame. My insecurities have flared and the fire grows with each fuck up. How many is that now? since 1989...burn, baby, burn.
2 comments:
Between being a Nurse and carrying all of this other baggage around - you've given yourself quite a row to hoe.
My advice? (I KNOW you want my advice, right? Another county heard from ...) You need a confidant. Someone you can talk to who will understand - not judge - be a friend. It SHOULD be him. Apparently, it ain't. So for YOU - for YOUR health and strength and ability to cope - find someone who will listen.
Hi L - wow, a powerful post. It reminds me of so many aspects of my life, some past, some present. I can't fathom the intricacies and challenges of married life, so won't pretend to give any advice. But I wish you good luck and thank you for sharing.
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