Actual Update

It’s been a while since I wrote, hasn’t it?  A big reason was that I went to part time, so I was at home on Fridays.  I usually blog on Fridays because it’s really slow around here.  It would take forever to talk about everything that has been happening, so I’ll kind of break it up into bullet points.

Job – the center is going okay, but we have had some things to learn.  We can not coordinate all of the other practitioners’ schedules.  There are different people doing different things in different rooms on different days, and trying to keep all of that straight was insane.  So we’re going to look at doing a shared calendar that everyone can access and update.  We also changed our rent structure, because we originally started out charging just 15%.  However, 15% of 0 is 0, and we still had to pay the full $1250 regardless.  We instituted a $50 minimum.  We lost the reflexologist because she thought we’d be getting her clients and scheduling her appointments, and she didn’t have internet access.  We lost the T’ai Chi Chih teacher because she scheduled a Thursday night class which conflicted with the yoga teacher’s class, and I didn’t realize it when I ok’d it.  The insurance agency upstairs installed a new bathroom, and on July 8 (on the way to Peace Fest) we got a call that a pipe had burst or something and flooded our yoga room.  We haven’t been able to use it since then, but I think the repairs are completed.  So, we’re behind on rent but we’re going to see if insurance covers loss of income or whatever you would call that.  I went back to full time at Kellogg.  Right now isn’t the right time – the kids are home for summer and the business doesn’t have enough going on that I could make up for what I’m losing here.  We need the money right now, every penny, because we’re also trying to plan a wedding.

Yeah, wedding.  Yeah, we’re still getting married.  I know, based on the last post you’d assume it was over.  When it’s bad it’s horrendous, but it’s good far more often than it’s bad.  And when it’s good, it’s amazing.  He really hurt me this last time, and I guess the part that hurts the most about it is that he doesn’t seem to recognize how much he hurt me, or how not okay that was.  He seems to minimize it and shrug it off, like we did equal damage to each other.  He blows up what I did like it’s unforgivable and talks about how it will take him time to trust and forgive me.  This time, according to him, I “crossed the line” because I told him “YOU WILL NOT INTERRUPT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO MY SON”.  So, because it was a command, right?  And I yelled at him?  Okay, check this out, then.  Once we went to Burger King and he ordered food for everyone but me without asking if I wanted anything.  He saw a look on my face, which I knew better than to explain.  But, against my better judgement, I used my words and explained my feelings like every therapist and communication book teaches you to do.  This is what happened, this is how I feel.  I didn’t use blaming or shaming language, I used a soft compassionate tone.  He came unglued and yelled at me ALL THE WAY HOME.  Non stop.  When we finally got home, I eventually lost control and called him names.  Immediately after they escaped my mouth, I recognized that I had done wrong and I told him right then and there that I was sorry and that was not okay.  It is my fault that I said those things, not his.  But still, you know, at the end of that argument I was again the villain because I called him names.  “I’d never do that to you” he said.  That’s how I “crossed the line”.  Name calling, okay?  So what does it mean that after he stormed out of the house on Thursday, he called me a horrible person, a sociopath, a narcissist, a chauvinist, a bigot, and a destroyer.  Oh, and an abuser.  He retaliated by calling me names, but I’m the bad guy.  But when I was the one who called names, I was still the bad guy.  It’s this stupid game of Calvin Ball where the rules keep changing so he always wins. 

I DID attempt to calmly talk to him about not interrupting me when I talk to Tristan.  HE responded by saying he can do whatever he wants and I can’t tell him what to do.  Really?  Okay, you know what, talking about this is getting me all pissed off again.  Everyone makes mistakes, and I can forgive that.  And I can definitely admit that when he interrupted me, I could have made a better decision than to snap at him.  I didn’t yell at him, I didn’t swear at him, I didn’t call him any names.  I just said “Hold ON” in an agitated voice.  But I will not have this incident reframed as something it wasn’t.  I will not apologize for, or take responsibility for, the brutal attack I endured for HOURS in retaliation for having the audacity to tell him what to do.  And let’s be clear, I tried to avoid conflict and discuss it like adults.  After I snapped at him, that is, but that wasn’t a grievous error.  Instead of having compassion, understanding, or cooperation; instead of trying to compromise or find a way to meet Tristan’s emotional needs or accommodate his (very reasonable) request, HE dug his toes in and blustered on about how nobody tells Joth what to do.  Relationships are compromise.  We should communicate our needs to each other.  We should be able to bend once in a while.  We should be able to accommodate reasonable requests, and it should work both ways.  No one is going to get their way all the time.  Both sides have to give.  People need to feel heard.  They need to feel as if their feelings are important, and they matter.  If Tristan voices a concern which falls on deaf ears, what does that communicate to him about our regard for his feelings?

Anyway, I’ll be honest, I have a lot of festering emotions about this.  Talking wouldn’t do any good, and what could be said that would fix them?  I’m not leaving, I already know that.  Things are really good right now, and I feel loved and appreciated and admired.  I feel like he cares, I feel like we have hope, I feel connected.  I can figure out how to sustain this.  I keep trying, and I might never succeed.  And I will admit, there have been times that I lashed out in the past to the degree that he did on Thursday.  I just never understood how devastatingly crushing it could feel.  I mean, I did.  I have felt it before, many times.  The entire world crumbling beneath your feet.  Bereft of light, devoid of warmth.  You know, usually I figure things out while I blog about them, but examining something I’d rather ignore isn’t really working out for me right now.  He’s a great guy, funny and smart and insightful.  I enjoy so much of my time with him and appreciate all that he contributes.  I know he doesn’t mean the things he said, and I know that on some level at least some part of him understands that his response was unwarranted.  Even if I never get a sincere apology, or acknowledgement of the level of hurt he caused and accountability for causing that hurt. 

All I know is that I can’t wait for open enrollment in September, because I need insurance so I can get counseling.  I really need an unbiased third party perspective on how to handle this.  He’s going to tell me he’s always right and I’m always wrong and everything he does is justified and my fault and everything I do is inexcusable and unforgivable, and I know THAT’S not accurate.  I can’t trust my OWN judgement because that’s bound to be skewed, too.  I just really need to talk to someone who can help me navigate these waters.  We have such a good thing, but it could very easily become such a bad thing, the very worst thing, and I don’t want that for either of us.  I’ll keep fighting as long as there’s something here to fight for.  I know he’s hurt and damaged, just like I am, so relationships are going to be work.  But it’s work I’m happy to do as long as he’s in it with me.

Okay, so, kids are good, relationship has been covered, work has been covered.  We went to Peace Fest and had a wonderful time.  I only wish I could describe how magical it was.  It was my best Peace Fest EVER!  Joth and I didn’t even fight, except a minor argument Sunday morning.  But honestly, after the weekend we had had, with as little sleep and as much adventure, Sunday morning was just a little bit hard to adult at the time. 

My grandpa had a heart attack on Wednesday and it wasn’t looking good, so we went up with the kids.  He’s still there, but it’s looking pretty good.  They had chilled him to minimize brain damage and sedated him.  They put a thing in his artery and then they warmed him up and eased off the sedation to try to wake him.  He did respond, squeezing hands and wiggling toes, but every time they try to remove the vent he gets very agitated and his blood pressure goes up so they have to sedate him again.  They might have to do a trach, but right now they’re getting ready to try to remove the vent again with a blood pressure medicine.  We went up last night and I gave him some reiki, and I’m keeping him in my thoughts.  It’s really scary to imagine losing someone you’ve known your whole life – I mean, I know someday it will happen.  But it’s never happened before and I don’t know how it will feel.  I’m just not ready to find out yet, though.  So he’s got to keep fighting.  J

Current events.  Yes, we play Pokemon Go and LOVE IT.  I’m not even into Pokemon, but I love how it has created community.  Everyone is outside, being friends, getting along.  We have met people playing music outside and just being awesome.  We have jogged as a family, enjoyed some scenic walks.  It’s really having a positive effect on the community and I love it for that.  Annnnnnnnd I may be a feminist but I will never vote for Hillary Clinton.  Bernie is in line with my values and I will vote with my heart, for what I want, not for the “lesser evil”, no.  I will not compromise my principles, no.  If Bernie isn’t on the ballot, Jill Stein then.  And I don’t care who thinks that’s throwing away my vote. 

Oooooh last thing.  New celebrity crush.  SOOOOO we watched the new Ghostbusters (and it was AMAZING!) and there was this chick, OMG I hardly ever get celebrity crushes but she’s awesome.  The coolest part is, though, that when I googled her just now, I discovered that she is actually a lesbian.  So randomly some chick I think is hot, actually likes girls…haha that’s cool.  Yeah because you know, that totally means I have a chance.  JUST KIDDING!  My gaydar must be pretty good, though.  I mean, I’m not gay, that’s not what I mean.  But having the sense, you know? 

Oooooh THIS will be the last thing.  Just remembered.  I’m getting a car!  This will do a few things.  One, I won’t have to depend on Joth for rides, freeing up his schedule a little more.  Two, it will build my credit so we can get a house next year.  And three, it’s fucking SWEET.  It has Bluetooth, a touch screen navigation system, heated seats, only like 15,000 miles or something like that….dude it’s SWEET.  But, the insurance under my name would be like 300 per month and, yeah, NO.  If we can’t do it cheaper under Joth’s name, I may need to go with a less awesome car.  But that’s okay, though,  It will be nice to have my own wheels again!  Then, if I leave for the night or the weekend, neither of us have to be stranded without a vehicle.

Okay, okay, there’s a lot more I could say but I should probably get some work done.  I’ll try not to wait so long next time!

Apocalypse

You’ve been spoiling for an argument for days.  I could feel it coming, I can always feel it brewing and building up.  I’m always so proud of myself for making it through those first few days, I feel as if I’ve outsmarted you.  I feel like a champion, overcoming the hurdles thrown my way.  I feel unfuckwithable.  I pride myself on how rock-solid and resilient I am, how I can not be baited.  But, you just don’t stop until you get a reaction, however long that takes.  That’s all it takes for you to make everything my fault and to completely absolve yourself of any personal responsibility for creating the conflict.  If you can get a reaction, I become the bad guy.  I know this, and I refuse to give you a reaction time and time and time again.  That puts your behavior squarely on your shoulders, you can’t pass it to me like a hot potato.  You just have to hold it…and burn.  The first night, you stumbled to bed drunk bringing up my past.  Rambling on about how you just don’t understand why I was a sex worker, and I’m asleep and I have to work the next day.  You don’t have to understand.  I don’t care if you approve.  It was before I ever met you, and I owe you no explanation.  We have discussed it at length anyway, I’m not sure what more you want or expect to hear from me.  But it’s not the time, so I go to sleep.  At some point, while asleep, out of old habit I put my hand on you.  You remove it and flip your back to me.  I do the same and fall back asleep.  The next night, I wake up to you doing that angry muttering between your teeth thing.  The thing you usually do right before you break something, snapping a pen in half or something like that.  I pretend I don’t hear you and I pretend to keep sleeping.  At some point in the night, I accidentally touch you again, and you throw my hand off of you.  I move to the edge of the bed and go back to sleep.  The next three nights, I don’t even try to touch you at all.  Why would I bother anymore?  You create your barriers, I’m tired of trying to cross them.  And why should I anyway, if I am so clearly unwanted?  Sleep by yourself then.  I won’t touch you.  I feel us drifting further and further apart, but I realize I just don’t care as much as I used to.  What is there left anymore to care about?  We find out my grandpa had a heart attack and might not make it.  I am quieter than usual.  I am thinking a lot.  I don’t feel like talking.  You are talking to me in the car, things that don’t require responses.  Telling me things I have heard, and I nod, but I have nothing to say.  Instead of having compassion, you make it about you (as usual) and pout because I’m not interacting with you.  It’s never my feelings that matter, it’s how my feelings make you feel.  Like if I was bleeding, you’d be demanding sympathy from me because you were traumatized by having to watch me bleed.  I don’t have the energy to give a shit, so I go about my day.  It gets to be about noon and while you have expressed sympathy for family members on facebook, you have yet to reach out to me to see how I’m doing or to let me know you care.  I send a few messages over the next 3 hours, and each time you respond with one word.  I know you’re still pouting about this morning, and I’m not going to keep putting forth effort if you’re not.  You don’t want to talk, I won’t talk.  Just one more door to close.  No sex, that’s been a while now.  My choice.  I won’t initiate.  If you want to, you will, and you haven’t, so whatever.  No touching, now no talking.  I wonder why we’re even still together.  I feel like this relationship is dead.  But still I stay, because we’re a family and my son has no other father and my family loves you and the kids and the business.  But not for me.  I don’t stay for me.  And it strikes me how sad that is, when I used to feel like the happiest, luckiest girl on the planet.  I don’t think that’s ever coming back.  I don’t think it was ever really real.  I really believed it was all my fault for a while, and I bent over backwards to change, to be what you needed me to be.  To say and do the right things.  But even then, you’d still get mad, only then you’d blame it on what I had done in the past.  So, you say it’s my behaviors that make you act this way, but I change the behaviors and you still act this way, claiming it’s because of my past behaviors.  What good was it to change, then?  I start to realize I was never to blame for your behavior, and I feel stupid for falling for it.  So then, it happens.  I’m talking to my son and you keep jumping in.  I told my son rather than throwing things or breaking things, he should use his words and talk about his feelings.  I was very proud of him when he did that to you, he told you that when he has two or more adults talking to him at the same time, he gets overwhelmed and it makes him feel like breaking things.  I applaud him for using his words instead of acting out.  Instead of showing respect for his feelings, though, you continue to join in to the conversations I am having with Tristan.  I am in the middle of a sentence and you interrupt, and in frustration I snap at you, “Hold ON”.  Yes, it was an irritated voice.  Because I was irritated.  After he leaves the room, I can almost see you salivating at the prospect of a juicy fight.  You begin baiting me, and at first I successfully ignore you.  “You didn’t MEAN to yell at me, right?”  You say.  I say nothing.  “Oh, well you DID then, I see how it is.  Okay.”  I still say nothing.  But you persist, and I decide that maybe if I calmly explain why I was upset, I can defuse this situation.  I am always so wrong for thinking that.  That’s where I went wrong.  I tell you, well, we did talk about how Tristan feels overwhelmed when grownups are ganging up on him.  You immediately become defensive and start bellowing about how you can do whatever you want, like a toddler throwing a tantrum.  You can talk whenever you want.  I calmly reply that no, in this case, you can not.  When I am speaking to my son, you will not interrupt me.  You go ballistic.  YOU put your chest up to MINE, trying to intimidate me.  It doesn’t work, I’m tired of your bullying.  I puff up my chest too.  I won’t back down, because I am not wrong.  Here we are, chest to chest, in each other’s faces.  You’re yelling about how you will interrupt me if you want to, you’re interrupting me right NOW, blah blah blah…I’m yelling about how you will NOT and yes I CAN tell you what to do when it comes to how you will treat me, I AM telling you what to do, and you will NOT interrupt me.  Stupid shit.  I almost laughed.  Anyway, then I put my palms on your chest and pushed you away.  Not hard, it wasn’t an aggressive move.  Of course you snatch that up like it’s candy, NOW I have given you something you can use against me.  You leave, as usual, always running away from your problems.  You hate it when you’re wrong.  You can’t stand it when you make mistakes.  You text me that I’m a destroyer, a sociopath, and something else.  I laugh.  It’s your script.  I used to believe it, because usually by the time you started spewing that predictable venom I had actually lost my cool and yelled, or insulted you, or made a mistake I felt guilty about.  But this time, I have nothing to be sorry for.  You call me crazy.  I think about what that must make you, because out of the two of us….but I know by now that I can prove no point with you, I can use no logic on you.  You are in the place where logic is broken.  You are regurgitating your script and I stop participating.  The other times this has happened, I have been more forgiving.  But I really don’t know what to think of a person who would do this, rather than be a pillar of comfort and support, during an emotionally trying time.  It feels like you are kicking me when I’m down.  I ask myself, why am I with someone who would do that?  Is this all I think I deserve?