WARNING/Disclaimer: I’m going to be discussing something of an adult nature. I am whipping this out as it comes to mind and I have thoughts that are raw and uncensored – I may or may not use vulgarity. Oh, and it may have tons of grammatical and spelling errors too (Oh, the horror!?!?!). This post is intended for mature audiences (i.e. ages 21+). Also, names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
This morning, I remembered, intently and ferociously, why I began blogging in the first place. Maybe it’s obvious to some of you, maybe a few of you had caught me mentioning it in previous posts, or maybe this is a complete surprise because I don’t discuss my marriage much. The reality is that my marriage is toxic on a level that it should have ended three days after meeting. I have never gone into detail online – even in the previous blogs I kept and deleted – about my marriage, for various reasons: embarrassment, shame, guilt, frustration, anger, sadness, dedication, misplaced devotions, or whatever excuse. Truthfully, I know I don’t want to face my own responsibility in the matter. I have done, and said, some fucked up things in my marriage. In my defense, however, I feel like I have come to a place in my life where I no longer use the actions my wife does as an excuse for me to act in horrible ways. Granted, I really, truly hate some of her behaviors, but I know in my heart that I cannot control what she says or does – and sometimes, her actions really aren’t my fault. But that’s been part of the problem in our relationship – I take everything she says or does and blame myself for her behavior. Hell, she even says it – “I wouldn’t have said that, if you would learn to do [whatever it is I did]”. Much like what happened this morning; and that is the reason, I decided to revisit this section of my blog, dedicated to my wife, Michelle (that’s not her real, name, by the way).
So, I have Fridays off work right now during my training at my new job. I was taking my wife to breakfast this morning and dropping her off at her job. I have been driving for Door Dash in spare time to make ends meet, and we still have a couple of humps to get over before we are on to some semblance of financial sustainability. And, she hates that I used her care on previous driving gigs. So, this morning she says, “Are you planning on using my car to drive?”
I responded, “Yes, but I could use mine, if you prefer.”
She retorted, “Why do you use mine? I thought I told you I didn’t want this car to be used for that.”
“I know, I just find it easier to get in and out of yours, but I’ll go back home after dropping you off and swap cars”, I said, with a smile…
“BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP”…
Okay, honestly, she went on a tirade and I can’t really remember every word she used nor every expletive she uttered. But I had it and said, “I agreed with you. I’m going to do what you asked and drive my car. There is no need to continue bitching about it.”
I used the expression “bitching”, after previous arguments that she had expressed that she didn’t want me to call what most people would call complaining as “bitching”. She then said she didn’t want to go to breakfast with me, so I turned around and went home. On the way home, I apologized for telling her she was bitching, but it would be nice if she also saw she had a role to play. I expressed that she was literally complaining immediately after I agreed to her request – i.e. she was having an issue for getting what she wanted (please, help me wrap my head around this one). I swapped cars and she took herself to work.
And then, I was a smart ass.
I should know, by now, that being a smart ass can be detrimental to me (I’m not going into detail about this fact right now, because I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss the totality of it), but I sarcastically sent her a text, after I left that said, “See you after work sweetheart”, knowing full well that I did not view her as “sweet” at the moment.
Tirade number two occurred, via a text response, that included her saying she “…did not want me anymore.”
It set me off, of course, and I didn’t respond with what went through my head, but I felt it spread through my being in one negatively energized pulse. I responded that I was frustrated that she could not apologize for her role in a minor disagreement. Then she went off on me and using something that I shared with her in confidence as a means to attack me and make me feel like shit. It literally had nothing to do with the current situation, but I did not say what I really wanted to – something sarcastic and mean. Rather, I expressed that she made me hate myself for sharing something with her to have it used against me in an argument. I expressed that I didn’t like the messages she was sending saying she wanted the relationship over. Then I asked for her to be clear – if she wanted me gone, then I would go.
She didn’t say another thing for two hours. I used that two hours to contemplate giving up on sobriety again. I wanted, so bad, to go have a few beers and not give a fuck anymore. I wanted to bad for her to apologize – do something so small that would have a huge impact. I didn’t do any of that, I came home and tried to blog earlier. I couldn’t. The frustration was really high and I couldn’t formulate my thoughts in a coherent way. And it made me realize, that when I had tried working AA steps, before, that I really only have one resentment. And I don’t know if/how I will ever deal with it. Maybe in some way, this blog is my 4th step in AA. Maybe this is where I should list everything that makes me resentful.
I don’t know…
I kinda feel like doing something online, anonymous and open at the same time, may defeat the ultimate purpose, and it also violates some other thing in our marriage that my wife demands – to never share our problems with anyone outside of our marriage. It feels like that serves her purposes and needs more than it serves mine, however. On the other hand, I feel a need to let things out. I feel a need to find some way to care for myself…
I just don’t know sometimes.
But I contemplated, seriously hard, about giving up my sobriety. It is short lived on a routine basis, but this time, I really want it to be longer than a week. I really want it longer than the 100 days I achieved back in May. I want it to stick. I want to do something in my life that I can feel a sense of pride about, again.
I love my wife. That’s the hard thing about all of this. In spite of everything, when she texted and asked that I bring her lunch, I rant to it. I agreed. There was no apology. There was no revisiting this morning, other than to remind me that I ruined breakfast.
But, I didn’t drink. I didn’t drink and I didn’t look for some other way to fulfill a childish need to make myself happy with a short term pleasure.