The coffee cup, which I still have and use today, was just a symbol of all the reasons I divorced him. But, it remains a strong memory for me, and a lesson learned. It was just a plain coffee cup, one I bought at a Hallmark store back before W and I were even married. It came with a matching mug mat and two cookie cutters. I bought it because it was cute, and decorated in Fall colors, which I can't resist. I'm not a huge coffee drinker, normally one large mug every morning. Sometimes two in the winter. W and I had a cabinet shelf filled with coffee cups- ones we bought as souvenirs, ones family members had given as gifts, holiday mugs, the small and useless cups that come with a set of dishes. But, this cup was my favorite, the one I used every day. In fact, it was the only one I ever used. Most normal people would recognize that and respect it. But not W. If W got into the kitchen before I did, he would invariably grab this cup, instead of picking one of the dozen other cups sitting right there.
I would ask him repeatedly, please don't use this one coffee cup, this is the one I always use, there were plenty of others for him to choose from. But a few days later, as I would go to get my morning coffee, I would find he had already absconded with my mug. At first I thought he was just careless about his choice, insensitive at the most. Then one day it dawned on me- this was a power struggle. This was a way of him showing his control over me. He was 100% purposefully using the one coffee cup I asked him not to use. Finally, he started telling me I was a selfish bitch for not letting him use this particular cup. I told him he was being an asshole for not using any of the other ones. One day, after he had poured his coffee into the cup, I can remember grabbing it off the counter angrily, dumping out the contents, and taking it away from him. I am still shocked that this little cup never got broken over the years of our arguing over it.
I think I had been with W for at least 10 years before I realized everything he did, everything he said, was some form of control over me. I was used to the put downs and name calling, the insults that made me feel as worthless as dirt. I had accepted the fact that I'd given up all the things that had made me happy and whole as a single girl- like my writing and my art- all for him. I was uncomfortable with his insistence that he did not want my family visiting, but I ignored him on that issue, and it caused huge fights. There were weekends where my parents would come just for a lunch out on a Sunday, and he would leave the house so he didn't have to spend time with them. I would lie to cover for his absence and my embarrassment- he had to work, he had to help a friend with a project. As much as he hated spending time with my parents, he hated seeing his own even more. When we moved two states away, and would go back home for a visit, he wouldn't even let his parents know he was in town because they "will want to see me", he always said. Eventually, going home was a journey of one- me alone on a jet plane because he said he never wanted to go back there again. I guess he thought if HE wasn't going to go back home, I wouldn't either, but I had no qualms about vacationing without him.
The classic signs of control were always there- insulting me and crushing my self-esteem, making me feel as though I was lucky that at least he wanted to be with me, trying to alienate me from friends and family, completely ignoring me sexually, not ever depositing his paycheck into our bank account (instead he would "give" me a little cash to pay the bills with- in all those years I never once saw a check or even knew what he made), always insisting that everything was always my fault, telling me how stupid I was. And I can't believe I fell for it, or allowed it to happen for so long. I know, there are no victims only volunteers, right? I am still trying to recover from the pummeling my self-esteem took over a decade ago. I still have trouble believing I am good enough, or smart, or pretty. That I'm not lazy, not undeserving, not unlovable. And sadly, J has to suffer for what W put me through. He doesn't understand why I haven't let it all go by this point in my life, why I haven't gotten over it. I fear that how W treated me in my 20's, is still defining who I am in my 40's. J is a polar opposite of W in every way possible, but I am still me, and I still have some of those troubling thoughts in my head, about how I view myself and how I think others view me.
I think that's one reason I'm struggling right now with my unemployment, even though it was by choice. By not working, by not bringing home a paycheck, I am starting to float on a sense of worthlessness again. I have no purpose, I serve no purpose, what is the meaning of my daily existence? J would be incredibly hurt to hear me talk about myself like that, so I keep those thoughts buried. I don't know what it's going to take, for me to be at peace with who I am and what I do. With my decision to quit my job. Our decision. J's support and understanding is the only comfort I find in it all. I still go to bed at night, thinking about what reports I need to run in the morning, what vendors I need to work out a contract with for a certain customer. It's silly I know.
Funny, I started off this post about how W used to control me and dictate how I felt about myself, and I've gotten terribly off track. Maybe that is all still part of it now, and maybe not. I don't know why I even waste a single thought about a man I haven't seen in 8 years, who fills me with disgust and shame, but he pops up in my head all too regularly. I feel as though I haven't yet overcome that part of my life, I haven't moved on mentally. Maybe I've always had self-esteem issues and just didn't realize it until W so blatantly smacked me in the face with it. J does everything in his power to keep my chin up, keep me going, take interest in my plans and hopes, support my desires. Make me feel desired. But some days it's just not enough- what he gives me externally doesn't penetrate the loathing I feel for myself on the inside. I try not to let him see that though, I'm good at smiling at him and letting him know how much I love him for all that he does.
J and I have our own coffee cup collection that represents our travels together, but my cherished little Autumn leaf cup is still there, front and center. Some days I use it, some days I don't- I just grab a mug. If J happens to pull it off the shelf for his Sunday morning cup while we read the paper together, I don't even give it any thought. It's no longer "my" coffee cup- it's ours.
MISS GEE
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