I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the aspects of me that are like a kicked dog. For example, sometimes Hubby does something and I’m upset but then quickly forgive it, or sometimes I don’t even stand up for myself at all. (See the recent fact of him lying to my face to fuck his girlfriend).
The next morning when he told me it was more like… “Well, Roller Girl was upset when I told her you didn’t know, so I have to tell you.. um.. I lied yesterday. You were right when you asked if Roller Girl had been over. She had. I just didn’t want to tell you and have you freak out because I’d taken the opportunity to see her and you’d have some kind of issue with it because I had just seen her and had a date with her the next day”.
It started to sink in that he’d lied right to my face. Then it occurred to me that he’d been calling to show an interest in my plans and I realized he had simply been making sure I wouldn’t come home and surprise them. I asked him what time she had come over and he became instantly mad. He asked me why I wanted to know and yelled a bit and hung up on me. He called back and got even more mad and said “this is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d get like this!!”. I hadn’t raised my voice once. I had simply asked what time she’d come over.
This kind of exchange went on for a bit, with him mostly yelling at me as I remained calm sitting in my ferry booth with strangers all hearing my end of the conversation. I called him on yelling at me while he was apologizing for lying. He calmed quickly but had a number of other outbursts. I told him to go on his date that night and I knew I had a date the next night. He asked if we could have a nice date the day after those and not talk about all this and I’d happily agreed.
“Yes, let’s just drop all of this and have a nice date because it doesn’t fucking matter what you’ve done to me”. I didn’t say it, but that’s what my actions said. My actions say this kind of thing a lot. How did this happen? How did I get to the point where I will swallow almost anything to keep the peace? When did I become the cowering whipped dog? It took me WEEKS to stand up for myself when he’d been yelling at me, screaming in my face and telling me to go fuck myself. When he’d called me a slut and said that I “made sex mean nothing at all” I’d just taken it as my due. He told me I made him sick and I swallowed it. I’d calmly told him that the things he was saying were hurting my feelings. He said “you just have really fucked up ideas about sex. I don’t think I realized how cheap you really were until you were running around fucking all these guys”. (For the record I’ve fucked 3 guys in the past year) (I also fucked 2 girls.)
WHY WOULD I REMOTELY OWN ANY OF THAT, or defend myself that way even now, like I just did? Who cares if I fucked 72 guys this year? If it was safe and sane and consenting, what the fuck is the problem?
More to the point, why would my life partner say that to me? Why would anyone’s partner say something like that to them, and why would I just forgive it and move on if they did? Why am I sitting in a bakery writing this after fleeing my house because Hubby was fighting with RollerGirl? I cleaned the makeup out from under my eyes with spit to not take the time to wash my face and potentially be there to incur his wrath. We are really off the rails if in any universe I would think it was okay to have to flee my own home to not be mistreated. I didn’t do ANYTHING to him. I was happily cleaning.
How far off the beam have I gotten.. and why? Why would I ever think I should have to tiptoe around? I wasn’t always this way. I am very independent. I am bold. I am self aware and happy with who I am. I worked my whole life until the last few years in tough-as-nails man jobs. I did construction through high school and my early twenties for Christ’s sake. I framed houses and did drywall and remodeling renovations and demolition. I was a United States Army soldier! I road-marched 16 miles wearing 45 pounds on my back and am an expert marksman. I carried the M60 saw machine gun and ammo. I have thrown grenades, wired claymore mines and used a god damned rocket launcher. I rode barely broken horses and raced barrels. I taught myself to work on my own car using a Chilton’s manual. I always changed my own oil. I am good with power tools. I troubleshoot electronics with the power on (really the only way). I marched for the rights of people living with HIV. I am wicked intelligent.. I’ll just say it because it’s true. I am strong! I am 5’3″ and a God Damned Force to be reckoned with. I am no wilting flower. I am no push over. I came out when I was 16 years old, even to my evangelical fundamentalist Christian father and over the years still found a way to have a relationship with him. Because dammit.. I am who I am and I will say fuck you to anyone who fucks with that… well.. almost anyone.
Why in God’s holy green fucking Earth do I cow so much to a person that is supposed to be my partner?
- it’s partly that I am a hopeful fool. I keep thinking people will just stop being wrong and get it straight, especially if they see they were wrong.
- It’s also partly that it’s hard for me to open up and to love and to be vulnerable and it makes me feel weak.
- It’s also that I am afraid I’ll be abandoned, because let’s face it.. I was kinda fucked over as a child. Mommy left 3 times with the third being the charm and Daddy took off for days and either wanted me close or far depending on the girlfriend du jour.
- Or that deep down I am afraid I’m not that loveable
I dislike my old tapes.
The light of day in all of that makes little sense really except to explain the unexplainable choices I make. Hubby actually joked about how the dog-walker caught him and Roller Girl fucking two days ago when he’d lied about it and I laughed. It’s already old news he feels he can’t joke about and he never really apologized and doesn’t really think he’s done THAT MUCH wrong.
I should type a pithy answer here, and I have a few of those, but I just don’t want to. This is a wake up call from me to me. This isn’t who you are girl. Knock it off and be you. It’ll be okay. Really.