Final Decision.

I have already left you in my mind.  My heart has no more room for you, you’ve been evicted and the doors are locked.  You have broken it for the last time, and I know what I am worth and what I deserve. 

 

Friday morning, while I was driving to work, I suddenly remembered that we had another option other than abortion – adoption.  I hadn’t thought about it because in my previous situation, Noe hadn’t been willing to consent which made the whole process more difficult and stressful.  But we, well if we agreed and did this together, how wonderful would that be?  I imagined us finding a loving gay couple who would be able to provide the life and opportunities our sure-to-be brilliant and gifted child would thrive from.  This being probably my last opportunity to give birth, I considered that I could turn it into a positive and a blessing into multiple lives with your cooperation.  Knowing the joy the parents would experience lifted my heart a little, and if I knew from the beginning that it was planned and I was in a role of surrogate, I would be even more emotionally prepared for the grief that would follow.  This seemed like a loving, selfless thing we could do together and I was excited to talk to you about it.

 

I came into work and sent you a message, “What do you think about adoption”?  You chastised me for “doing this over text”, although curiously the day before you hadn’t had any problem whatsoever discussing abortion over text.  I was confused, and apologized for stressing you out.  It was apparent that you didn’t have the same feeling about it as I did, so I backed off on the topic.  That night I laid in bed.  You were drinking.  I gagged a little and we talked about morning sickness.  You asked me about what I had messaged you earlier.  I hesitated.  Having serious discussions with you when you’re drinking is like walking through a minefield, and I was not sure that this was a smart idea.

 

I tried to reply in a nonchalant, lighthearted way.  I briefly touched on how when I was in my car and thought about it, it sounded like an idea worth discussing.  I mentioned a few of the reasons that I thought it would be worth considering, the joy it would bring to the parents.  You became agitated and I told you we didn’t have to talk about it right now.  I sensed danger and rolled over and said this was not a good time and we could talk about it the next day.  But you persisted.

 

You told me that you thought I had already decided on abortion.  I told you that I had, but it’s a complicated decision and I wanted to consider all viable options.  I hadn’t changed my mind, only decided to see what your thoughts and feelings were about adoption.  I wanted to decide together.  You became nasty, saying that you didn’t know what to do because the more you objected, the more I would want to do the opposite of what you wanted just to spite you.  You said something about it being my decision and I agreed.  Yes, it is my decision.  But I want to know your position and consider that too when I make it.  Ultimately it IS up to me, but I want your input. 

 

You seemed convinced that I was determined to find out what you wanted just so that I could do the opposite.  I was confused at the time, because when have I ever done that?  You’re the one who gives me things just to take them away.  You’re the one who, when asked nicely to clean up after yourself, shrugs and basically says fuck you and continues to leave your shit lying about to gather mold and maggots and attract bugs.  You seem to be constantly measuring just what would make me happy for the sole purpose of withholding it, or giving me the very opposite.  You’re the one who will give me snuggles one night, and when I try to use positive reinforcement and tell you how much I love it, and thank you for it profusely, and respond very positively – will, within the next few nights, refuse to let me even touch you.  Will call me a rapist for asking to hold your hand.  Only BECAUSE you know how much physical connection matters to me.  You’re the one who used to make out and sexually touch me until you could see that I was horny, then would sadistically switch gears and ask me if it was okay if we don’t have sex tonight, or if we could to this tomorrow.  Then you’d relish at my resulting frustration and use it as a reason to villainize me.  I had an expectation that you’d fuck me, and that makes me a rapist, and I think I own your body, other ridiculous shit.  You withhold sex and all physical affection only because you know I want it.  So who the hell are you to suggest that I am only asking your preference so I can deny it?  Project much?

 

When I told you about my adoption story with Sienna, I had in vulnerability and trust confided in you that the most hurtful thing people had said to me was, “I could never do that.”  As if to imply that they love their children so much more than I did, because they couldn’t give theirs up.  A backhanded compliment, as if to say they admire my heartlessness and lack of love to be able to do something so heartless that they themselves, in their superior parenting, could never bring themselves to do.  I know that what I did took MORE love than the average parent has for their baby.  To bring her into that situation, with Noe, and damn her to that existence….would that have been love?  That would have been selfishness.  That would have been focusing on ME and what I was comfortable with, putting the sacrifice on her.  I put it on me.  I disregarded my own wants and comfort to make the best decision for HER.  If you couldn’t have done that, you certainly can’t claim it’s because you’re a better human being.  It would indicate exactly the opposite.

 

Anyway, so remembering that, you drove that spear into my heart.  “I’m just not the type of person that could give my baby away.”  Really?  I had no words.  What was unsaid was even more toxic, the implication unforgivable.   You really went there.  I went silent, because this was officially danger zone conversation.  In my silence, you threw things and punched things in typical temper tantrum fashion.  I did not respond.  You stormed out of the room, banging the door and stomping down the hallway.  You really are the emotional equivalent of a five year old, I realize.  I feel so sorry for you.  After you finished you cigarette, you came back in and flopped yourself on the bed.  I stayed silent.

 

That’s when you said you would kill yourself if I didn’t have the abortion.  I remained silent.  You continued to mutter to yourself, making a show of psyching yourself up for suicide.  “You can do it, Joth.  It’s not that hard.  Come on, you need to just end it.  End it now.”  Etc. Etc.  Finally, I got tired of this obvious manipulation on your part and left the room and slept in the kids’ room.  The next day, you behaved as if it had never happened.  Just like the previous weekend when you had verbally abused me for daring to give your son the best birthday I could.  You’re dead to me.  There’s no loving you again.  I hate you for this and I’ll never forgive you.

So today, I made the appointment.  I’ll have the abortion, because I can’t go through that again trying to place a baby for adoption when the father won’t consent.  You’ll get what you wanted, but at what cost?  You’ve lost me forever.  And not because you wanted abortion.  I was okay with that too.  I was okay with having a civil, respectful discussion and coming to an agreement together.  I am NOT okay with the way you talked to me and tried to manipulate me into giving you what you wanted.  It wasn’t necessary and it wasn’t okay.  That was evil and wrong.

The Nightmare Continues

I can understand getting upset about something, losing your cool, and saying hurtful things in regards to the thing that upset you.  I can understand getting triggered by someone else insulting you or yelling at you, lashing out from a place of hurt.  Using hurtful words when a person does something that hurts you.  Not that it’s okay, but it’s at least understandable.  What I can not wrap my head around, however, is yelling at someone for the kind things they have done; reacting with anger to the kind things they say. 

 

When I scheduled hair appointments for Jewel and Tristan, I asked Austin if he wanted his hair cut, and he said no.  When the rescheduled appointments fell on his birthday, out of consideration for him realizing that sitting for an hour watching people get their hair cut probably wasn’t the most fun thing ever, I asked him if he would prefer to stay with his Grandma.  I stressed that whatever made him most happy was fine with me, it didn’t make a difference to me.  First he said he’d rather stay with his Grandma, I walked him downstairs and the door was locked, so he said he wanted to come with us and that was fine.  He did. 

 

I gave him first pick of the breakfast restaurant, bought him breakfast, chatted with him while Jewel and Tristan got their hair cut, took them all to a Chinese buffet to celebrate.  I kept checking in with him to make sure he was having a good birthday.  He was, and that was what mattered most to me.  I asked him what he wanted, he said he wanted stuff to build robots which was not something I had the knowledge to get at the time.  I told him I’d look it up and figure out what we needed. 

 

You got out of work, took me to work, picked me up from work and we came home and had cake and ice cream.  I started to tell Austin thank you for the cake, but realized the cake wasn’t actually from him but we were celebrating because of him and made a joke, “Thanks for being born so we could have cake!” It was a lighthearted joke, and Austin is well aware of the fact that I am grateful for his presence in so many more ways.  I don’t imagine that he thought for one second that the only reason I am glad he exists is because I got to eat cake.  Besides that, I never said OR implied that it was the ONLY reason I was glad he was born.  He’s a smart kid, I’m confident that he realizes that I can eat cake whenever I want anyway.

 

Fast forward to later when we’re lying in bed and I thought I heard you say something, you said you didn’t, I was sure I had heard something so you then used that opportunity to shred me into a thousand pieces, emotionally eviscerate me, shatter every feeling inside me.  I was hurt and confused.  I couldn’t understand why you would hurt me in that way, when I hadn’t done anything to you.  I hadn’t said anything mean that you could be reacting to.  I hadn’t done anything hurtful that you could be angry about.  I had spent the day with your son celebrating his birthday and for that I deserved to be torn apart? 

 

You spun everything to give it the most evil interpretation you could, starting with me giving Austin the choice whether he wanted to come or not.  You painted that as “trying to get rid of him”.  The previously scheduled haircut appointments you claimed I was “leaving Austin out” although I had specifically asked him if he wanted his haircut too, and he himself had chosen not to.  The haircuts were badly needed by Jewel AND Tristan, and I only have her every other weekend and had to reschedule once already, but you twisted that into “Getting MY kids presents on Austin’s birthday”.  !!  REALLY?  HAIR CUTS ARE NOT PRESENTS.  I had bought him a cookie the night before to surprise him with in the morning, neither Jewel nor Tristan got one.  When I woke him up to give it to him, I sang happy birthday and you yelled at me for singing it without you.  Even though we would sing it again with cake and ice cream and I knew it.  I was trying to show him love but instead I got treated like I should have known that no one is allowed to sing happy birthday without you, even if it isn’t when the candles are being blown out.  I wasn’t aware of this rule.  You left me sobbing, heartlessly leaving the room after throwing these accusations at me, throwing the good things I had done back at me after distorting them into crimes.  This is the worst I have ever felt with you.  I don’t know how someone who would do that could even love me.  I don’t believe you do.

NOPE.

You say all of a sudden “every day this week” I’ve been crazy, like you conveniently forgot what actually happened this week.  I didn’t forget.  Let me remind you.

• You got done with your training, came home, and I was upset that you had changed the password on the computer and I had no way to contact you.  I didn’t raise my voice, insult you, swear, or disrespect you.  I was just quiet.  You kept hinting that I should congratulate you for finishing your training, and I didn’t quite feel in the mood to give you the pats on the back that you were fishing for so I didn’t.  I said, regarding the computer, “Fine, I won’t use your stuff.”  YOU  filled in words I NEVER SAID, speaking on behalf of me, saying that I said you couldn’t use my stuff either.  Then you proceeded to react to the words that came out of YOUR mouth as if they were my own, threw a tantrum, drove off, sent me nasty messages saying that I don’t care about anyone but myself.  Stomping down the hallway, yelling, swearing, slamming doors.  You also woke me up several times, even though I was doing nothing but peacefully sleeping since I went to bed to avoid fighting with you.  And if I had woken YOU up….ha.  God only knows what would have happened, and it would have been MY fault, for waking you up.  But somehow your rules don’t apply to you, huh?  This day, I didn’t yell.  I didn’t swear.  I didn’t slam doors.
• The day the power went out, we were lying in bed next to each other and your headset was very loud, as always.  It is hard for me to sleep with noise, but because I didn’t want to set you off, I said nothing and just tried to cover my ear with the blanket.  You noticed and asked what was wrong.  I was afraid to tell you so I said don’t worry about it.  You insisted that I tell you, pretending that you wanted to know because you’d like to address it.  Yet, when I told you, you just got mad instead of compassionate.  I don’t feel that your intention in asking was ever out of concern for me, it seemed like trying to find a reason to be a jerk.  Again.  You turned the headset down and asked if that was better.  It wasn’t, but I said it was okay.  I made a remark about YOUR HEADSET, which you twisted into making it about you so you could excuse your righteous indignation at the imaginary insult.  I just said your headset was weird because most headsets are quiet to the people outside of them, because what’s the point of a headset if everyone else can hear what you’re listening to?  Not wanting to inconvenience you any further, I told you I would leave the room.  Before I even could, you decided to, using only one tiny blanket.  I never told you that you couldn’t have any blankets, nor had I planned on bringing them with me when I was going to leave the room.  You voluntarily chose to leave the room.  It was your decision to cover up in a tiny blanket.  You could have come back in when you were done listening to your pod cast, or grabbed another blanket, or grabbed ALL the blankets and I could have shared with Tristan.  But somehow I’m to blame for your ill-thought out decision, and you’re trying to make me feel guilty that you’re sick now because you were cold.  This day, I didn’t swear.  I didn’t yell.  I didn’t slam doors.
• We got an invitation in the mail to my cousin’s wedding in a month, and I remarked at how soon it was.  You decided to use that opportunity to remind me that (to you) it’s my fault that the wedding didn’t happen, and we could have done it in a month if only I hadn’t been stressing you out, totally unnecessary opportunity to try to guilt, shame, and blame me.  Besides that fact that it’s wildly inaccurate, I was the only one working and your mom didn’t give us the money she said she would, so there was no money at that time nor in the foreseeable future.  I was stressed because we were stuck, I was working 40 hours a week and couldn’t get overtime, and wedding plans couldn’t proceed without cash flow, and somehow to add insult to injury to this day you have continued to blame me and randomly throw in my face whenever the opportunity presents itself that you could have done it if only I hadn’t stressed you out.  Sure.  This day, I didn’t yell.  I didn’t swear.  I didn’t slam doors.
• The next day, we came home from Ema’s and took a nap.  We woke up and you wanted to have sex, we were playing around and having a good time (I thought) then, again, you decide that would be a great opportunity to guilt, blame, and shame me AGAIN.  You’re having some trouble getting an erection, which is fine, I don’t mention it.  If I had mentioned it, it would have been a reason for you to get upset and fight.  And it’s not a big deal.  It happens to everyone, I’m sure.  I have no desire to hurt your feelings so I decide to just go with the flow.  But then YOU mention it, and make sure to remind me that (like everything else that doesn’t work out for you) it’s, surprise, my fault again.  You make sure to tell me that you can’t get it up because of performance anxiety because of the times that I DID mention it, long ago, and then act all surprised when I’m not in the mood anymore.  By this time, I’ve been dealing with your barbs and your insults over and over and over without reacting.  But I’m starting to lose my patience.  And I feel like that’s what you want, because as soon as I react, you’re going to jump into victim mode and magically all of this will have been my fault.  But still, I didn’t yell, swear, or slam doors.
• Last night, you were listening to your headphones and I knew you weren’t feeling well so I decided to sleep in the kids’ room.  Later on, I woke up and figured you probably were done listening to your podcast so I came in and laid next to you, trying to help you feel better.  You were acting mad for some reason, but I brushed it off.  Then all of a sudden, you erupt at me like you’re trying to find any kind of reason to be angry, bringing shit up just to fight.  You said something about your fishing pole, yelling at ME and being nasty to ME even though it had nothing to do with me.  I told you I had handled that situation the way I should have, as well as the situation with Tristan’s chocolate milk, and I didn’t deserve your anger.  You apologized and then started in on me about something else, I think first it was about how you were sick which is in no way my fault at all and I am not taking the blame for your poor decisions.  THEN you started yelling and swearing about how I had dared “complain” as soon as you had come home the night before.  What I had asked you, in a calm and controlled tone, so as to avoid pissing you off yet again, was why some things on your Facebook were shared to all of your friends, and other things were not.  I hadn’t even noticed this until yesterday morning, when you asked if I had seen an article you had shared.  I hadn’t.  When I checked, it wasn’t even visible to me.  Some things were, though.  So I asked, gently, why you shared different things to different people.  You said you didn’t even know that had happened and I sat in absolute silence, terrified of saying the wrong thing.  Even though I was silent, you reacted with anger because you didn’t like the look on my face and you interpreted it to mean something offensive, although I was trying very hard to appear completely neutral.  So then, I looked down, so that my facial expressions couldn’t offend you either.  Yet somehow you still got triggered and angry, so I left the room to watch a comedy show because I didn’t know what else to do at that point that wouldn’t set you off.  So here, in the middle of the night, you’re yelling at me for that even though out of the two of us I had NOT been the mean or disrespectful one.  Then you storm out of the room, yelling and swearing. 
   
  Which I still at this point, HAVE NOT DONE.  You have noticed the tension building and I’ve been more reactive, letting out some of the steam in other situations, but never toward you.  You take this as an indication of my instability so you can blame everything you’ve done on me, because look, you’ve been acting emotional.  Look how you got upset at the Walmart lady, look how you got upset at your mom.  Obviously I’m the crazy one, right?  Wrong.  What you don’t see is all of the emotions I’ve been stuffing in through repeated incident after incident of your mistreatment of me.  Finally they start spilling out and you can’t even recognize why.
   
• I go in the other room, because I’m tired of being your verbal punching bag.  When I try to come back and talk to you, you have an irritated tone to your voice and I interpret that as an indication that you’re upset with me still.  Which, if that was an incorrect interpretation, I apologize for.  Still, though, I choose my tone and my words carefully and say to you in a kind tone, without raising my voice, without swearing, “I’m sorry that you’re not feeling well, but you don’t have to be cranky at me”.  And you (SURPRISE!) go off on me.  Again.  Somehow in this whirlwind of twisting, gaslighting, blaming, mental gymnastics and confusion, everything gets turned around on me.  I go OFF.  I FINALLY lose my cool, although YOU. HAVE. BEEN. DOING. IT. ALLLLL. FUCKING. WEEK.  Almost every day you’re poking, prodding, yelling, swearing, insulting, guilting, shaming.  I have done NONE of it.  And now that I finally go off, just like I predicted, magically everything you have done this week is my fault and I’m just as bad as you, because look, I’m swearing, and I’m yelling, and I’m slamming doors.  I AM NOT FALLING FOR YOUR MANIPULATIVE EVIL DIABOLICAL SHIT.  I know who you are.  I see what you are.  And you’re pathetic.