quote for the day…

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everything is not okay

His siblings are here this week-end  for Father’s Day.

They’re have a cook-out this evening.

He asked me if I was coming over to his dad’s to have steaks tonight.

I told him, no.

I wanted to say, everything is NOT okay here!  I’m not going to with you to your family’s get-together and present a pretty picture.  Not happening.

But he had to leave so I didn’t start the discussion.

I think he must be in denial somehow.  I think he is pretending that everything is okay and hoping that that will make everything okay.  Maybe he thinks that because I am still here that everything will be okay.

But everything is not okay.

 

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this week

This week, he said nothing at all about the conversation last Sunday morning. (See post.)  It’s as if it never took place.

He has been washing dishes and making dinner, though.

However, as I told my counselor (yes, I am in therapy), him not washing dishes and not making dinner is not my complaint about the marriage.  So, if he wants to wash dishes and make diner, he can.  I don’t care one way or another.

Some might say that he is trying to show me love by doing these things.

I think that if he really wanted to be loving, he would go away and leave me alone.

And to those who feel sorry for my husband because I didn’t have sex with him when he was pushing himself on me (see post) ….  what he did wasn’t about sex.

Sexual assault isn’t about sex.  It is about power and control.

His mom was dying at the time (she died a few days after what he did to me) and I believe he felt very powerless and out of control about that.  I believe he took it out on me because he had no other way to express his anger over the thought of losing his mom.  None of what occurred that night and the next morning was about love.

If you reread that post, you will see that I did try to give a little to him.  I scooted over closer to him.  I did not want to, but I thought maybe it would comfort him a little.

I wasn’t “punishing” him by not having sex with him.  I was setting a boundary for myself because I knew what he was asking of me was destructive to me.

And about sex and a woman’s “duty” to give her husband sex.  I Cor. 7 says that is a two way street.  Each should give to the other.  And it is giving.  Not demanding.  Not taking.

So about me and sex – please read this post – “sexless marriage.”

Oh, and what I wrote in my previous post about the young man planning the birthday surprise for me and the other man saying I was hot and he had frat brothers who would be interested – that wasn’t about going outside the marriage, about having an affair.

For one thing, there is no marriage.

For another, I was simply trying to sooth my wounded soul with comforting thoughts that there are others who care or who would care about me.

Yes, it was a codependent thing to do.  My counselor has been helping me see that my view of my worth needs to come from an internal belief of my intrinsic value and not be based on what anyone else thinks of me.  But, being human, it still was nice to know that others think well of me even though my husband does not.

To my followers – thank you so much for your love and support.  Your comments bring tears to my eyes.  And to those who must criticize me – you are welcome to your opinion and I do allow it to be posted here.  It is part of the conversation.  I am sorry, though, that you are so wounded that you cannot show compassion.  That is a sad thing indeed.

 

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flayed

When he says things to me like he did this morning (previous post), I feel flayed.

I feel wretched.  I start doubting myself and all that I did to raise my children and to try to be a good wife.

I start thinking that I am a terrible person.  Well, I already think that, but I try to keep those thoughts at bay.  But when he starts in, then I start believing again that I am terrible and unlovable.

And things only escalate from there … that no one will ever love me, that I could never be with someone, that I would screw up any relationship that I was in.

This past Wednesday was my birthday.  There is a young man at work, late 20’s I would guess, who sometimes really acts like a little boy but is actually pretty mature and thoughtful.  Almost every time he walks by my desk, he asks if there are any meetings.  (Sometimes when there are meetings, food is brought in and then left overs are put in the break room.)  He’s always looking for free food.  It’s kind of a joke.

So Wednesday, he asked if there were any meetings and any food.  I told him, no, but that it was my birthday and he should get cake for me and then he could have some of the cake.  (This is done quite often at work when it is someone’s birthday.)  Well, he took me seriously.  That afternoon when I got back from lunch, he and several others were gathered around my desk.  There were signs they had made that said Happy Birthday, and there was cake – chocolate cake! – and they had bought me some flowers and they sang Happy Birthday to me.  It made me feel very special.

On Friday, I had gone down to get the mail and I put it in everyone’s boxes and then I was coming back to my desk.  I said to the girl who covers for me when I get the mail, well, I did the mail and now I need a male.  One of the other men in the office was walking by and he heard what I said.  He turned around and said, what?  I told him that I didn’t mean for him to hear that.  He told me that he had a bunch of friends, frat brothers, and he would see what he could do.  Later, when he was leaving, he asked me how old I was.  (I would guess that he’s in his thirties.)  I told him that I was forty-nine.  Then I said, not bad for forty-nine, huh.  He said, I think you’re hot.  But don’t tell HR* I said that.  (*Human Resources.)   I took it as a compliment!  He wasn’t being crude, just honest.  He said he said there were some pretty good guys among his frat brothers.

Anyhow, I don’t know if anything will come of that, but it was flattering to be told, a couple days after your forty-ninth birthday, that you’re hot.

So, then my husband says these things to me and I believe that no one will want me, hot or not.

 

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conversation this morning…

He said I poisoned my daughters against him. (I didn’t. Period.)  He said they turned on him because he wasn’t perfect.  (No, they recognized that he was toxic and distanced themselves.)

He said I should forgive him.  I told him that there was a difference between forgiveness and reconciliation.  I told him that reconciliation required change.

He asked me if I liked being depressed and unhappy all of the time.  I told him I was thinking of going to the doctor to get medication for the depression because I am getting really tired of it.

He wants me to go to church with him.  I told him that I couldn’t for two reasons.  One, I don’t feel called to his church.  Two, it would be hypocritical to sit beside him in church services.  I told him that there is nothing here and it would be a lie to sit beside him.

I suggested he get help.  He wanted to know what he needed help with.  I told him that he has no relationship with his daughters and that he sexually assaulted me.   He said nothing about the sexual assault, but blamed me that my/our daughters have nothing to do with him.

He said that he has been working on himself.  He said that we should work together on the marriage, that I should work with him on the marriage.  He said we should spend time together.  I told him that I didn’t want to spend time with him.  He asked me why.  I told him that the marriage has been too painful for me.  I told him that there was nothing here for me, that it was over.

He asked me if I was seeking God’s will or my own will.  I told him that every day I asked God to deliver me, that every day I asked Him for a place to live.

He asked me why I was still here and I told him that I hadn’t found another place to live yet.  I told him this was still my house.  He said, yes it was my house and that I had a husband who loved me.  I told him that he didn’t love me.  He said that I don’t let him love me.

He then had to go and thankfully he will be gone all day.

Maybe this will be the beginning of the end.  One can only hope.

I wish this was over.  All over.

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The only thing you can be best at….

My previous post (here) was reblogged from Live & Learn.  The reblogging process does not capture the entire post and my favorite line from the whole post doesn’t show on my blog.  You have to read the full blog post on Live & Learn to get to the end.  Which is fine.  He posted it; he deserves the visit to his blog.

But still, I’d like to have that final sentence here on my blog, too.

So…. here it is:

“It was instructive for me to see that for ballet dancers — once your technique gets to a certain level — the only thing that separates you from others is your quirks,” Portman said. “Or even, flaws … You can never be the best technically. Someone will always have a higher jump or a more beautiful line. The only thing you can be the best at is developing your own self.”

~ Natalie Portman, 2015 Harvard Commencement Speech

“The only thing you can be the best at is developing your own self.”

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Someone will always have a higher jump or a more beautiful line.

Originally posted on Live & Learn:

natalie-portman-harvard-commencement

“I felt like there had been some mistake,” she said. “…that I wasn’t smart enough to be in this company.”…When Portman was finally able to combat these feelings of self-doubt, there’d be more roadblocks to overcome…

By the time Portman got to “Black Swan,” she said that “the experience was completely [her own].” Portman had vowed to only sign onto projects that she could glean meaningful things from. And Darren Aronofsky’s “Black Swan” — a project she admits she was “woefully unprepared for” and was “15 years away from being a ballerina” when she signed on for — would carry, perhaps, one of Portman’s most meaningful life experiences.

“It was instructive for me to see that for ballet dancers — once your technique gets to a certain level — the only thing that separates you from others is your quirks,” Portman said. “Or even, flaws … You can never be…

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passive aggressive Mother’s Day gift

Let me tell you about a few things that I don’t eat.  Or try not to eat.

I stay away from gluten.  Gluten – flours, grains, breads – really messes me up.  Okay.  Yes. Occasionally I do succumb to chocolate chips cookies, but I really pay the price.

I don’t eat honey.  I love honey, but honey is sweeter than sugar.  I try to avoid sugar, too, and most stuff containing sugar.  I don’t have diabetes, but when I eat sweet stuff, I can tell that it affects my blood sugar.  And I feel really bad.  So I don’t eat honey and I don’t eat jam and I don’t eat syrup, as much as I like them and would love to eat them.

Yes, I have a chocolate addiction and chocolate contains sugar.  And if I eat too much chocolate, I feel bad.   But chocolate is not pure sugar like honey and maple syrup and jam.

I don’t like mushrooms.  Period.

I don’t particularly care for rice.  I will eat it sometimes and I do make it sometimes, but I don’t really care for it.  And especially not with mushrooms!!!

So why do I mention all of these food things to you?

He gave me my Mother’s Day gift from him on Saturday night.

It was a box from a company called Minnestalgia.

Guess what was in the box…

Two jars of syrup.

Two jars of jam.

Two jars of honey.

A jar of maple sugar.

A bag of pancake mix.

A bag of wild rice.

And a bag of creamy mushroom-and-rice soup mix.

I’m sure all of this food from Minnesota is very lovely.

There is just one thing…

I showed the box to my daughter.  She look it over and said, very slowly…

“You don’t eat any of this stuff.”

Posted in codependency, covert abuse, divorce, emotional abuse, family, marriage, passive aggressive, passive aggressive behavior, passive aggressive husband, relationships | Tagged | 6 Comments

Friday evening

Friday afternoon, as I was driving home from work, I received the following text from him:

I’m getting my own dinner so you can have dinner with [our daughter].

So that was nice to hear.

But then, I always start to wonder… how much time do I have?  When will he be home?  Will it be an hour?  Three hours?  And then what?

I tried to stop my thinking and just be glad I had a little time without him.

I got home and his truck wasn’t in the driveway.  No surprise.  If he had gone out, his truck wouldn’t be there.

The air smelled like someone was having a cook-out.  I wondered if maybe he was making his own dinner at his “fort.”  But, then again, it could be a neighbor somewhere having a cook-out.

I went in and made dinner.

After awhile, I checked my phone and there was a text message from him, asking if I could put away the chickens.  The text was from about 45 minutes earlier, about sundown.  (The chickens go back to their houses all by themselves when the sun goes down, but someone has to close the doors so nothing gets them in the night.)

I texted back, yes, I would put away the chickens.

I went outside to close the doors on the chicken houses, but the doors were already closed.

By then, I was pretty sure he was out at the fort, but he didn’t actually tell me that.

Again with the wondering thing… when would he come home and the evening be interrupted?

Long story short … he spent the night out there.  Of course, he never did tell me that was what he was doing.

I still slept in the living room.

For one thing, I didn’t know if he might come home at some point and I didn’t want to be in the bed.

For another, I think it might be traumatic to sleep in the bed again, even without him here.  One week-end afternoon, after he did what he did (post), when he wasn’t here, I lay down in the bed to rest for a few minutes.  But I couldn’t be there.  I had to get out of the bed.  I couldn’t be where it had happened.

So I slept in the living room Friday night as usual.  I’m pretty comfortable there now.  The sofa cushion is still kind of hard, but it doesn’t feel so narrow anymore and I sleep pretty well in there.

Saturday morning, when I woke up, I felt so very, very angry.  Maybe this is a good thing.  I think I have a lot of repressed anger, but since working with the counselor, I am starting to recognize my anger instead of stuffing it.  Then I can deal with it in a healthy way rather than pretending that everything is okay.

So I felt this incredible anger.  Anger at his manipulation.  Anger at his deceit.  Anger at being half-lied to, at being treated this way.  It took me awhile to calm down, like hours, but I’m still glad that I was actually able to feel it and see it for what it was.

It strengthened my resolve to work harder at leaving so I don’t have to be treated like this anymore.

He finally came home on Saturday morning around 11:00 am.  Thankfully he left again a couple hours later, so I didn’t have to be around him much.

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If you’re standing in crap…

Please read the full post here: http://theothersideofcomplexity.com/standingincrap/

Standing in Crap SQUARE color

 

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