Honesty

I am really disappointed in my blog, in the content.  I intended it to be a good hard look at myself, a self-analysis into my misery and depression.  But I seem to automatically revert back to the people-pleaser in me.  Instead I'm talking about vacations and my garden, happy days.  Those are posts better left to the family & friends blog, where I put on that sunny face so everyone will think I'm okay.  I don't know why I can't put all the dark or sad thoughts out there, even anonymously.  I know I love J and he loves me, I know our life is awesome.  And that's the point.  Knowing this and still being so unhappy that some nights I go to bed hoping I don't wake up in the morning.  I know J is the only reason I want to keep going, he really is my only purpose in life.  If something happened and he was no longer here with me, it wouldn't be worth me drawing another breath.  But he's here, and he comes home to me every day, and we both wake up together every morning in the same bed, usually with a snuggly kitty or two.

My father has always- even now- treated me like his princess.  W cast me to the wolves every chance he got.  And now J protects me from my biggest enemy and threat- myself- it is a tiring and futile struggle.  That period of my life when I was with W, in my early twenties to my mid-thirties, was a crucial time for my development as a woman.  It was the first time I'd lived outside the walls of my parents' home, W was the first man who had ever been duty-bound to take care of me besides my dad.  But W was irresponsible, cruel, selfish, and insecure to the point that, for him to feel better about himself, he had to squash me under his boot repeatedly.  I went from listening to a father who told me I could do anything in life that I wanted to, that he would support me no matter what, that I was smart and beautiful and accomplished- to suddenly living with a man whose favorite nickname for me was Fat Lazy Whore or Stupid Bitch, both of which he would scream at me frequently for the smallest infractions.  You may read this and think, I would never let anyone talk to me that way, especially a husband.  I thought I was one of those women too, who would never take that crap from a man.  But until I was actually in the middle of such a relationship, I didn't know my own weaknesses.  After 13 years of listening to that, I became all the things W told me I was.  Whatever dreams and hopes and aspirations I'd had as a single girl, I lost all of those and instead became a bumbling, incompetent wife.

That's why it's so hard now, to have such a wonderful man who loves me and appreciates me and adores me, and believe that it could be possible now and for the rest of my life.  I have many days that I tell myself, J just says and does the things that he does, only to be nice because he's stuck with me now.  In my heart, I know that's not true, I know J does really love me and cherish me, and I believe him when he tells me everything he does, he does for me and because of me.  I believe him when he says I'm the best part of him, that he wouldn't survive without me, when he tells me the only thing he wants out of life is for me to be happy.  But in my head, the parts that W lobotomized with his hate, I can't understand why anyone would love me.  I don't even like myself, and if I could bust out of my body and crawl away somewhere safe, I would.  I still feel stupid, I still feel lazy, I still feel fat.  W spent 13 years convincing me that this is who I am.  J has spent the last 10 years trying to undo the damage.  I know it's not fair to J- he didn't break me, he shouldn't have to fix me.

I find fault with myself for even the most mundane, "it's just part of life" issues- clothes coming out of the dryer wrinkled, crumbs on the kitchen counters, coming back from vacation five pounds heavier, letting plants die because I overwater them.  You name it, if it's in any way negative, I take the blame personally.  I can't help it, and I can't stop it.  I remember pleasant afternoons in my sunny kitchen in my first house, cleaning, mopping the bright white and blue tile floors- and W suddenly coming in and yelling at me that I shouldn't use a mop, I should be down on my hands and knees scrubbing.  I don't know if that was his cleaning tip, or his view of women in general.  It's just one of those moments where I felt like, no matter what I did, it wasn't right, it wasn't good enough, and I sucked as a human being.  It stuck with me, I don't know how to shake it off.

J never gets mad at me, about anything, ever.  But I know he gets disappointed.  One thing that upsets him is my constant need to apologize about everything. He says, please stop saying you're sorry, there's nothing to apologize about.  If the chicken is a little overcooked, if I get a sinus infection, if I cry over a TV show, if I forgot to bring the coupons to the grocery store, if I come home from work with a backache, if I accidentally hang a shirt backwards in the closet.  Every illness or pain, every forgetful moment.  Just stupid insignificant shit.  I'm sorry, honey, I'm sorry.  J doesn't care about any of these things, he only cares about me.  I'm the one making them into issues and failures.

I see how he gets frustrated over my near groveling, and my low self-esteem.  Some days I know he has to tire of always lifting me up, and I know I would grow exhausted of hearing someone apologize twenty times a day, like a favorite mantra.  I don't know why he bothers with me.  It's like those movie stars or athletes, and you see them on the red carpet, and their wives are plain and dumpy.  You think, wow he is so hot, he could have anyone, why is he with her? And you say, he must really really love her.  It's how I feel about J- he deserves so much better and I know I can't give that to him.  He is so very handsome, he's so intelligent, he is an executive, he's incredibly energetic, he is a leader, he's funny and upbeat.  To me, he's a perfect man.

Why is he with me?  Really....

MISS GEE