Step Number Who-the-hell-cares?
Today I am going to iron all of Adam's clothes for the week. Usually I do the ironing on Tuesday, but I was busy, so I pushed it to today. Seeing that ironing is my least favorite of all household chores, and the includes scrubbing toilets, I am pushing it back another hour, or so. I am using my time to jot of this bit of nonsense.
There is some concern about my relationship with my husband. It comes up, from time to time, because I am a complainer and he is an easy target. I've tried, over the years, to fully explain that no matter how bad things seem, I know that it is partially my fault.
Adam isn't an abusive tyrant (yes, people have asked) and I am not a completely beaten down domestic with no outs. It just sounds that way, sometimes. Ha.
I do this. I am the one that thinks and pushes her way in the to corner. I make choices based on what I think people want and I live in fear of ever truly being myself. So, when it comes up that I am unhappy, as I should be because I never let myself actually live, my friends want to put the blame on Adam. It is the way that women work. We loathe to blame the person that we care about, so we push it off on outside influences. I mean, how could this woman that we are friends with, and we love, willingly live this way, make these choices? Surely it is not her fault. It is something else. Someone else.
Almost two years ago I started taking a friend (now former sister-in-law) to Narcotics Anonymous. For reasons I still don't fully understand, I sat in with her. I was her ride, but she seemed to want the moral support and I was a sucker for feeling like I could do something to aid her recovery. At any rate, I learned a lot from those people and I still kind of run through the steps in my head. Like, I need the reminder that I have the ability to fix myself without drugs.
I don't know if that even makes sense.
Going through that whole thing really was the first time I accepted that I couldn't change things. And that the only way my life was going to be better, or more how I wanted to be, was to fix myself.
At the time, things weren't that bad. We had just lost Wayne, Mazzy was still alive, and Adam and I were doing great. We were definitely the type of people that thrived on being parents. The extra stuff? The whole other family living with us and my mom getting sick and having to work nights and weekends to feed the extra family living with us while they blew their money on clothes and drugs? That part I hated. And then Mazzy died and I really, really hated that part.
For a little while after Mazzy died, I still went to the meetings. I needed to know that I was not the only person with a sob story who had to suck it up and deal. Their stories kept my grief in perspective. It kept me from being selfish or self-destructive.
Why am I bringing this up? Because, I am in a place where I know that the only person that can make me happy and I have to figure out how to do that. I have to take control of the things that I can control and stop waiting for something around me to change.
There are things I know that I can't do:
I can't get a car
I can't get a job
I can't buy new clothes
Or take a class
Or make new friends
I can't go out every weekend
And I can't make Adam suddenly understand everything I've never told him
I can take responsibility for the life that I have. There is very little I can, or I am willing, to change. Knowing that, what do I do? How do I make myself good enough in my own eyes? How do I avoid distracting myself from the real issue because I know that I am failing people every day by not living up to who they thought I should be. Living up to who I thought I would be.
I focus so much on how I am limited that I don't behave creatively with what I do have. I have the freedom to do things, but I am not assertive enough. I fear the argument. Or I fear losing. I don't like being the person at fault for hurting another person, but I am a brash, often tactless person, and I overexert myself when I am trying. Like, I am trying to make up for all the times that I never asked for something, so I push too hard and it comes across as aggressive and then I lose anyway because the other person responded like it was an attack.
Yeah.
So, I've acknowledged my problem, now I just need to set about fixing it. Can I deprogram a lifetime of submissive behavior? I hope so.
There is some concern about my relationship with my husband. It comes up, from time to time, because I am a complainer and he is an easy target. I've tried, over the years, to fully explain that no matter how bad things seem, I know that it is partially my fault.
Adam isn't an abusive tyrant (yes, people have asked) and I am not a completely beaten down domestic with no outs. It just sounds that way, sometimes. Ha.
I do this. I am the one that thinks and pushes her way in the to corner. I make choices based on what I think people want and I live in fear of ever truly being myself. So, when it comes up that I am unhappy, as I should be because I never let myself actually live, my friends want to put the blame on Adam. It is the way that women work. We loathe to blame the person that we care about, so we push it off on outside influences. I mean, how could this woman that we are friends with, and we love, willingly live this way, make these choices? Surely it is not her fault. It is something else. Someone else.
Almost two years ago I started taking a friend (now former sister-in-law) to Narcotics Anonymous. For reasons I still don't fully understand, I sat in with her. I was her ride, but she seemed to want the moral support and I was a sucker for feeling like I could do something to aid her recovery. At any rate, I learned a lot from those people and I still kind of run through the steps in my head. Like, I need the reminder that I have the ability to fix myself without drugs.
I don't know if that even makes sense.
Going through that whole thing really was the first time I accepted that I couldn't change things. And that the only way my life was going to be better, or more how I wanted to be, was to fix myself.
At the time, things weren't that bad. We had just lost Wayne, Mazzy was still alive, and Adam and I were doing great. We were definitely the type of people that thrived on being parents. The extra stuff? The whole other family living with us and my mom getting sick and having to work nights and weekends to feed the extra family living with us while they blew their money on clothes and drugs? That part I hated. And then Mazzy died and I really, really hated that part.
For a little while after Mazzy died, I still went to the meetings. I needed to know that I was not the only person with a sob story who had to suck it up and deal. Their stories kept my grief in perspective. It kept me from being selfish or self-destructive.
Why am I bringing this up? Because, I am in a place where I know that the only person that can make me happy and I have to figure out how to do that. I have to take control of the things that I can control and stop waiting for something around me to change.
There are things I know that I can't do:
I can't get a car
I can't get a job
I can't buy new clothes
Or take a class
Or make new friends
I can't go out every weekend
And I can't make Adam suddenly understand everything I've never told him
I can take responsibility for the life that I have. There is very little I can, or I am willing, to change. Knowing that, what do I do? How do I make myself good enough in my own eyes? How do I avoid distracting myself from the real issue because I know that I am failing people every day by not living up to who they thought I should be. Living up to who I thought I would be.
I focus so much on how I am limited that I don't behave creatively with what I do have. I have the freedom to do things, but I am not assertive enough. I fear the argument. Or I fear losing. I don't like being the person at fault for hurting another person, but I am a brash, often tactless person, and I overexert myself when I am trying. Like, I am trying to make up for all the times that I never asked for something, so I push too hard and it comes across as aggressive and then I lose anyway because the other person responded like it was an attack.
Yeah.
So, I've acknowledged my problem, now I just need to set about fixing it. Can I deprogram a lifetime of submissive behavior? I hope so.
Comments
I did not think to look on my blog for comments until today... 4 months and three days late(r). I assumed they would magically appear in my inbox. Apparently I would make a horrible magician.
Thanks. Comments are the icing on the cake. They make it that much sweeter. Like people may give a shred about that random person in some other world they can only wonder about. I hope that doesn't sound negative... it's not.
Your struggles within seem so eerily familiar to my own. Trying to understand myself seems like trying to unravel a knot of hair... near impossible. The sense of failure seems like a constant cloud I can't escape.
I give you credit for digging so deep, most people don't.
I'm still wandering through the darkness trying to make sense of things. I wish I were as forthright as you, but I tend to be vague and metaphorical... probably from growing up in the church.
I learned to speak a language that waxed over pain with catchy phrases that were exhausted and misused... "I'm blessed (but I feel like hell", or "God's grace is sufficient (but it sure doesn't feel like He's handing out any right now!)".
I guess, with all the little messes I've been going through the Christianese (that language I previously mentioned) wore through. I stepped down as the youth pastor and my wife stepped down as the worship leader and we began licking alot of open wounds. Not necessarily from the church, but the church seemed like it was inadequate at healing... strange considering that is supposed to be its strength.
I've never felt like God has left me, just that I've lost sight of Him because of all the pain... funny how pain can cloud things up so easily and quickly.
I won't bore you with the details. If I haven't scared you away yet I'll share more if you respond. It's nice to be able to share with someone whose not buried knee deep in the nuances of my world. I appreciate you ear... or eyes as it may be:)
These entries, this blog, is basically vomiting in to the ether. Few people read it anymore. It must be difficult to stomach what I'm going through. In real life, those that know me, don't seem to feel as pressured by my grief. It is the bonus of a hundred conversations a day, instead of just one 'conversation' (ie: entry) a week.
I'm more than willing to listen. My contact information should be on my profile, and you can write to me any time. I'm not always prompt in replying, but I will get back to you.