Author: xen6

it didn’t come, it doesn’t matter

another early morning. 3 am i was up, not able to sleep any more. 4 am i got out of bed. 5 am i made a coffee… and now 6 am i am here writing.

i had a good conversation with my therapist yesterday. she said something which i haven’t been able to stop thinking about when i was talking to her about making this choice. i told her what my options were, to either accept what i have and make the best of it, or change everything with the hopes of finding something more fulfilling… and she asked me, well, no, actually she kind of told me that if i chose option 1, with everything she had learned about me so far, it would only be a matter of time before my heart started overpowering my brain once more.

it took me a minute to understand what she was saying, but ultimately it did process, and i think she’s right. i can pretend everything is ok, i can even try to make things better, but i cannot undo any of the past and it will always be there. if i cannot live with that, then i cannot live with that. and i think i have reached the point where i cannot live with that.

so, that’s scary.

i wanted to talk to k about it last night, but she was not feeling well and i chickened out. i don’t want to go to war. i don’t want trouble. i just want everyone to have a chance at happiness. so bringing this up again when she’s in pain is not a good idea, right? am i just making excuses and avoiding it… maybe…

maybe today i will have the courage to do it.

choice

i’ve been up, on and off, since 2am. this seems to be my new pattern now. falling asleep from exhaustion and then, just as my batteries charge up enough to reboot, my brain turns back on and sleep is once again an impossibility.

i kind of prefer the alternate version of insomnia that i used to have, when i just could not actually fall asleep until very late (or early depending on your perspective) but then would sleep soundly until my alarm went off. at least then i was semi productive at night. this new version of insomnia leaves me a zombie for hours and hours on end, just staring at the wall.

this morning i’ve been thinking about divorce, separation, whatever you want to call it. i am trying to make a choice and it is so messed up. it feels like there are no obvious right answers. it’s just choosing what kind of suck i want my life to be.

i can stay, and basically give up any hope of ever feeling romantic love again, at least not without literal mountains of guilt and shame attached. BUT, that saves everything i have built over the last 18 years. the lifestyle i have, the home i live in, the family and friends around me.

or i can go, destroying everything. my lifestyle would change dramatically, my home would be sold, some family and friends would surely be lost. BUT, it opens the door to me possibly finding love again. it provides me the possibility to rebuild things. this option is about the possibility of something new. the only thing is, it is just that, a possibility, not a certainty. i could very well end up throwing it all away and finding nothing, being able to rebuild nothing.

—

stay and pretend to be happy to save what i already have, or leave and risk it all on the possibility of something better?

i know what i have to choose, but it is so hard to admit. it is so hard to commit to. it is so hard to even think about, nevermind actually talk about.

two thirds

was it really necessary to ambush me like that as soon as i got home. i mean sure, i know it was on your mind, of course it was on your mind, i knew that’s what would happen as soon as i mentioned anything in the first place.

maybe it’s my fault, maybe i should have anticipated this and been better prepared.

none the less, that was pretty inconsiderate.

i don’t think you were expecting me to say those things to you, were you? the things that bother me. the things that broke me. you accepted them, but then went about trying to explain how it was not your fault, not your responsibility, and then tried to explain how i am not doing enough. do you not see the irony in that? how that is literally the behavior that is slowly killing me? and then… icing on the cake… you mentioned the kids and how i do not spend enough time with them? how fucking dare you.

following this conversation, i know you believe things are different. you’re trying to be kind again. but, my dear, a few kind words cannot undo the years of unkindness just like that. i cannot change the way i feel so easily now that I have reached this breaking point.

you said something really funny though, that has very much stuck with me. you said you forgot i have emotions too. what the hell? am i that stoic? am i that walled up? i don’t feel like i am, but maybe? or maybe this is just another sign that the connection we may have once shared is irreparably severed?

halfway

you just couldn’t fucking leave it, could you? push push push. do you feel better now? i told you i didn’t want to talk about it, i told you to leave it alone, but no, that wasn’t going to fly, was it? you needed to keep bending the stick until it snapped.

so now you know. feel better?

you were so worried i was feeling resentful, do you not see how what you did just now only makes me MORE resentful?

and you know what, this is EXACTLY one of the reasons i didn’t want to talk about it, now you’re hyper focused on trying to solve my problem for me. you’re obsessed with being the one who has the solution. you’re questioning and doubting everything i have done like it is not fucking good enough and isn’t what you would do. you’re trying to impose your (failed) solutions on me like they are some kind of magic god damn miracle cure all. this is not YOUR problem. i don’t want YOUR solutions. i’m not stupid, i know of course this affects you greatly, i am not blind to that, but it’s not something YOU can fix. hell, at this point i don’t even know if it is fixable at all, at least in the way you are expecting anyhow.

argh! i can’t wait for the next few days and weeks where you are walking on eggshells around me for no good reason and then ultimately demand some kind of progress report. fuck off. stop trying to parent me. i’m trying. i am putting in more effort than you know.

stop it, you’re making it worse.

guilt is a funny thing. it makes you think, and do completely illogical things. you can know something with absolute certainty, with every fiber of your being, yet, guilt will make you think the opposite. guilt will make you doubt. guilt will make you compromise. guilt will make you procrastinate. guilt will make you consider alternatives. guilt will ultimately do everything in it’s power to deny you of the thing you know with absolute certainty.

i’ve known this feeling for a while now. longer than i am willing to admit. longer than anyone would be able to guess even, am i that good at pretending? i know i have to do something about it, and soon too. but the weight of the guilt surrounding this whole situation is suffocating. it is oppressive and there is no escape, there is no reprieve, there is no breathing room. in the moments after the words leave my lips i am hoping that i will be able to catch a breath, to have a sigh of relief, but i am worried the harsh reality will be that everything will get much, much worse before anything starts to get better and that the moment i open my mouth instead of catching a breath, i will instead be letting in the flood that will drown me.

perhaps i am being defeatist, perhaps i am being too dramatic, perhaps things will work out favorably? is that possible? is it something i should hope for or should i just brace for the worst possible outcome instead? i can’t say i have that much faith in humanity in general, even people who i have known nearly my entire life and are very dear to me have disappointed me more times than i can count. can i really expect compassion, understanding and acceptance in this situation? if the roles were reversed, how would i react? would i be compassionate, or would i be vengeful? would i be accepting, or would i be confrontational? would i be understanding, or would i reject everything? i’m not really sure. i guess it is impossible to know without being in the situation first hand.

i’m a bad communicator

i write to you more often than you know. i have whole conversations with you that you are not even privy to. i write you big long letters that share my ideas, thoughts, hopes, dreams, feelings, problems, worries, concerns, fears, everything and anything that fills my head… and then i don’t send it. i can’t send it.

maybe i am worried that i will upset you. maybe i’m worried you will not care. maybe i’m worried you will tell me i’m wrong. maybe i’m worried you will not say anything at all. i don’t know.

the more i write to you like this, the more things get confusing for me when we do talk. the line between what i have told you and what i have not gets blurrier and blurrier every day. and this only serves to upset me when you say certain things or respond in certain ways because part of me already told you about something directly related that would necessitate a different kind of response, only you’re not aware that i told you about that.

see through

a few comments have been made to me lately by people who don’t know shit that are a little too on the money. am i that see through?

maybe i am.

last night i made a comment i am not proud of. k asked me what i was looking for a 9v battery for, and instead of telling her what i was working on, i just said it was a project of mine and i’m not going to waste my time explaining it because she both would not understand and would not care. she immediately accepted that answer with an “oh… ok.” and then went back to watching TV. but i immediately felt like a bit of an ass the moment the words left my mouth.

that’s not how this should be.

that’s not fair

i don’t know why it’s always like this. sometimes, just sometimes, i want to be the one who gets to be mad. i want to be the one who gets to throw my hands up, say “are you fucking kidding me?”, or even just… vent. instead, she gets upset first, and then all of my frustration just gets swallowed up. gone. poof. because when she’s upset, i have to be the calm one. the “supportive” one. and if not, i am the enemy, the bad guy, the unreasonable one.

like yesterday. she borrowed my car to run errands because hers was in the shop after she once again kind of ignored necessary maintenance…. issues i busted my ass trying to fix the night before and ended up breaking some of my own tools trying to fix, then moving heaven and earth the next morning and twisting my mechanic’s arm to fit me in for an emergency appointment the same day to help make the car safe again. anyhow, while she’s out, i get a phone call, she’s hysterical because she wasn’t paying attention and smashed the front of my car into a curb and broke part of the bumper.

“i didn’t see the curb. your car is too low. it wasn’t my fault.” and then, before i can even say anything, she’s crying her eyes out. and i say phone call, but it wasn’t a phone call, it was a video face time… what the fuck. her upset face is already in full effect, and now i’m stuck. i can’t even be angry, because if i show even a flicker of frustration, i am the bad guy. so what do i do? i say, “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. it’s just a car.” but inside? inside, i’m boiling. why am i now comforting her for breaking my car?

i wanted to be the one to be mad. i wanted to be able to say, “are you serious?” but no. now, it’s all about her feelings. i have to reassure her that i’m not upset, even though i am, because she’s already cornered the market on emotional real estate. the minute she got upset, my frustration didn’t matter anymore.

and this isn’t just about the car. it’s about every time something like this happens. it’s like i’m not allowed to have my own reaction. the second she’s upset, my feelings have to be put on hold so i can take care of hers. i have to be the steady one, the calm one, even though i’m the one standing there with a busted bumper. and when i do try to express that i’m frustrated? she gets even more upset, more defensive, more adversarial, and then it spirals into this whole thing where ultimately i end up comforting her for making me mad.

it’s exhausting. it’s like i’m constantly stuck in this role where i’m supposed to keep the peace, even when i have every right to be pissed off. and don’t get me wrong, i’m not trying to be a jerk about it. i’m not out here looking to start a fight. but would it kill her to just let me be mad for once? to let me ‘win’ this stupid emotional game? to acknowledge, “yeah, i messed up, and it’s okay if you’re angry about it”? instead, i feel like i’m choking down my own feelings just to avoid making hers worse every. single. time.

marriage is supposed to be about supporting each other, right? but who’s supporting me when i’m the one frustrated? why do i always have to be the one who swallows my feelings so hers can take center stage?

it’s so frustrating to always feel like i’m on the back burner, emotionally speaking. i don’t want to feel like i’m choosing between being a good partner and being an actual person with actual feelings. i just want to be allowed to be upset when something like this happens, without it turning into me managing her reaction or having to walk on eggshells.

play stupid games, win stupid prizes

there’s this stupid fucking game people play and i hate it. i figured this out when i was 15 and in almost every single relationship since then, it has presented itself in one way or another. the absolute worst part of it, is just because i recognize when it’s happening, doesn’t mean i am immune to it. as soon as someone starts the game, then both people are playing it whether the like it or not.

it’s like a kind of emotional contest where each party has their turn to offer and then counter offer until one person concedes and the game is over until the next round.

oversimplified. imagine it like this:

  • person 1 is sad.
  • person 2, decides that instead of helping person 1, they will make the case that they are indeed the more sad person in need of help.
  • person 1 can then either put their sad aside and help person 2, or double down and make the case they are even sadder than person 2, shifting the focus back to them.
  • lather, rinse, repeat, until someone gives in.

i’ve been forced into and ‘lost’ this game more times than i can count. it’s fucking poison and i hate it. why does it have to be a contest?

—

i see what you’re doing. i don’t know if you’re just picking up on the fact that i am not playing any more or if you saw something not intended for you, but this is not going to work. i know how you think this is going to go down. everything will be rainbows and unicorns and then when you’re feeling secure again, it can all go back to how it was before.

the problem is, you’re not focusing your efforts in the right place. the thing that needs work i don’t think is something you can fix. it’s not you, it’s me. and you can’t fix me, because i am not broken.

i’m done. all i need now is time to process. this is not something i take lightly, and it is not something i want to rush. am i completely certain about anything? of course not. but every day i am more and more sure.

this time, you can’t win the game.