Posts Tagged With: frustration

my truth is self evident

I spent time with both my girls over the past ten days.
I went to Thing 1’s to help pack, and play with Baby K. She calls me “Baduh”and is an excellent snuggler. She loves books and blocks and wandering around her house ‘talking’ just to hear the sound of her own voice.
Thing 1 and I packed so much! There is precious little for her to pack and she has the next six weeks to do it. Mostly kitchen things they need to use every day between now and then and clothes. I brought with me most of Baby K’s toys and books, all Thing 1 and Husband N’s winter clothes and some other things they could part with in the meantime.

On the way back to VA, I stopped to see Thing 2.
We had a mini-girlie hotel weekend in which we snuggled and watched movies, ate a boat load of queso at our favorite Mexican place, and I met the young man she’s started seeing over Sunday morning brunch.
We were worried it wouldn’t feel like we had enough time, but it was perfect!
Returning to this house, I’m sad and disappointed to be apart from them.

I’m frustrated and disappointed to be here.
I don’t actually realize how miserable I am living here with my husband and his son until I’m away and return.
Turning onto our street made me anxious and angry.
I keep trying to figure out how it works when you love someone so much yet are so damn miserable at the same time.

When I’m away from this house I’m content. When I’m out and about with my husband I’m content.
The energy that surrounds my husband’s son is stagnant and putrid and poisons this entire household.
I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t have a say.
I’ve worked so desperately to accept this situation that I can’t change. And I can, for a while…
I can complain until I’m blue in the face and nothing changes. I’m so fucking tired of being trapped in a situation I didn’t create. I’m so fucking tired of being in a situation in which I’m powerless.
My life is being decided by a twenty year old man-child who refuses to make any personal decisions.
My husband expects his son to make life decisions, but the kid simply doesn’t have the skills to do that.
So we wait.
And we wait.

I feel like Sirius Black.

How much longer do I wait?
Well, now I have to at least wait until Husband N has a job and he and Thing 1 can buy a house.

I feel like I was promised one thing and received another.
I feel deceived.
I feel disappointed and let down.
What’s so awful about these feelings is that the actions didn’t come purposefully and with malice. The actions are a by-product of the way my husband and his family have functioned these past twenty years.
I believe he has every intention of fulfilling his promises he made when we began our relationship. But he won’t do them until he finishes fulfilling his promise to ‘take care‘ of his son.
The truth of the matter is he’ll never finish fulfilling the promise to take care of his son because his son never learned how to take care of himself. So he remains obligated to take care of him.
These promises don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Yet here we are.

I’m finished being miserable.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s son.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s decisions.
Instead of being trapped waiting for other people to make changes, I can make changes that benefit me without negatively impacting others.
I’m finished playing by rules I didn’t have a voice in writing.
I’m finished participating in a life I didn’t actually agree to.

My husband reads my blog.
This will be so hurtful to him.
That’s not my intention. I’m just too tired to play the game anymore.
I don’t believe either of us truly understands how much we love each other because there’s always some sort of drama clouding everything up.

This whole post may seem petulant.
May seem like I’m being petty and uncaring.
May even seem like I’m the queen of the haters.
I don’t hate. I simply can no longer live the way my husband chooses to live.

This is actually a declaration.
My truths are self evident.

I need to help myself, because I can’t help my husband or his son. They can choose to swim around in their dysfunction. I’m getting out of the pool. I can’t tread that water anymore.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

expressing all the irrational feels

LA wrote this post and it jump-started the hatching of thoughts.
In case you don’t actually click the link and read the post, she had some allergy symptoms mixed with anxiety, and before she knew it, she’d panicked herself into full on covid mode. She knew better, but couldn’t shake the feels.

I’m suffering from allergies, I’m taking my allergy meds, but if it’s sunny, I’m opening the house and letting the pollen in by the bucket load just to get fresh air in this place.
I know it’s allergies, but the ‘what ifs’ are actively punching me in the face.
I know it’s allergies, and even though I know it’s allergies, I continue to talk myself off the ledge.
And I think, ‘FUUUUUUUUUUCK I have this virus’, instead of thinking, ‘I’ll probably get this virus sooner or later.’

It’s natural to feel all these irrational feels, with all our heightened anxiety in a time when the world is in pandemic mode.
It’s especially tricky when you logically think and understand one thing, yet feel so strongly another.
When the feels are big, logic goes out the window.

This week YBW is home. I don’t feel comforted by that. It’s actually more stressful.
That feels awful to say, but when he’s at work, I can focus on what I’m doing, and even though he’s coming in and out of the house, I feel hopeful we’re still safe.
When he’s here, I find it distracting. I have more trouble staying focused, or on task.
As much as I want to spend time with him, I’m more panicky when he’s here than when he’s not.
That has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me. It’s one less thing I can control about my environment.

I was fired up Wednesday morning.
I was mad the kitchen was a mess. I was mad there was food on the coffee table from where Thing G ate the night before when I was folding laundry and needed a place to put it. I was mad that before 9 am I’m showered and dressed, doing laundry, and putting a pork shoulder in the crock pot so we’ll have dinner.
I was grouchy and complaining and YBW was sighing.
I went upstairs mad.
About twenty minutes later, I went to YBW and told him I wanted to apologize for being grouchy. That because I’m tired of feeling anxious and cooped up everything I feel is heightened. Things like feeling frustrated that the kid takes no responsibility for himself or as a human being in this household.
He sighs when I express my frustration. When I say that, he asks what he should do instead of sigh.
I stopped and worked hard to express the sighing is fine, it’s that he’s taking it personally is what I don’t like.
He feels responsible that the kid does or does not do the things.

I’ve come to the realization and acceptance that Thing G isn’t going to change his behavior. But it still frustrates me. So, to stop YBW from feeling responsible, I’m going to stop expressing my frustration.
The kid is what the kid is. He has no interest in being different. No amount of ignoring, shouting, guidance, or love makes a difference. No matter what we’ve said, or done, he doesn’t change his behavior. At this point, I’m honestly just counting down the days until he goes to live with his mother and I don’t have to watch it anymore.
At some point YBW has to let go of feeling responsible because the kid chooses not to be responsible for himself.
These are the real and frustrating thoughts I have, but can’t express because they’re hurtful to the man I love most.

When we express ourselves, we can’t control how it’s received. Especially in the current environment of heightened anxiety. What we can control is the way in which we express our thoughts and feels.
LA was feeling anxious and reached out to a friend she loves and trusts, but her friend was at the same level of anxious and it just went sideways.
I was feeling anxious. Cooped up. Tired of these four walls. Tired of doing the things that run the house while other people don’t. I took out my anxiety and frustration on YBW.
Neither LA nor her friend intended to make as stressful situation worse. I didn’t intend to have my frustration escalate to the point of starting our day off in a such a way.
It took me twenty minutes, but I knew how important it was to nip it in the bud.
I needed a pause.
I chose to press reset.

We love our friends and family dearly. We’re all in an anxious state. This works against us when we’re expressing ourselves.
We’re off kilter just enough that logic takes a backseat. Instead of being able to say, I’m having a crap day and need some loving reassurance, LA expressed her anxiety in the form of verbal vomit about how allergies were covid.
Instead of going about my business and quietly cleaning up the messes, I expressed my anxiety as verbal vomit about being frustrated over normal everyday occurrences.
But in addition to the anxious expression of our feels, they were received by those in a heightened anxious state.

Now is the time for us to do the hard work of effective communication.
To be crystal clear about our communication expectations.
We need to do our best to state clearly at the beginning of a conversation, or to ask clearly before engaging in the conversation, I (or do you) need a listener. Or I (or do you) need help problem solving.

We’re going to fail at this sometimes, because we can’t be in both the front and back of our brain at the same time. But if we can stop for a moment and move from the back to the front of our brain, we’re going to be able to communicate more effectively even though we’re anxious.

This whole situation is stressful!
I’m having moments of hanging by a thread. I want to have the biggest fucking temper tantrum you’ve ever seen.
The anxiety in me thinks that sounds straight up amazing!

Y’all it’s a crap situation.
It’s going to get worse before it gets better.
And that’s even if none of us or any one we love gets sick.

At the end of her post, LA wrote:

I verbalized all the stuff swirling in my head, which in turn released the fifty pound weight that had centered itself on my chest…

Same, LA, saaaaaaame.
It feels wonderful to be able to say what I think and feel in a safe and neutral environment.
I’m grateful we’re all here to read and respond to each other’s words.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

people are dumb panicky animals

I can say this stuff to Sundance. She knows me well enough that the meaning is understood in concept without concerning herself with the actuality of it.
Am I a misanthrope?
Not really. I just can’t stand being around ignorant people out in public.


When the squinty eyes come out, you know there’s bound to be trouble.

You ever have days like this?
Days when you just know that if it was up to you, the world wouldn’t be full of

I don’t know what gets me rattled, I should probably just ignore more of what goes on around me. Only I can’t seem to do that. I hold others to the expectations to which I hold myself. How to properly behave in public is something I feel like should be a no-brainer.
I mean, it’s pretty simple, right?
Just don’t act like a dick.

I know my mom was a hard ass, a no-nonsense kind of dictator parent. But she taught me the importance of how to behave around other people.
Sure, I’m a sarcastic bitch. But I don’t act a fool.
Some of these people out in the world need to tighten it the f**k up.
Ugh!

I feel like I’m forever making this face.
The things they say. The physical space they take up. The absolute lack of awareness of the world around them. These rampant packs of fools milling about.
I’m going to need for y’all to get it together already!

Do I simply need more patience?
That wouldn’t be a bad thing…
If folks would get their shit straight out in public, I would attempt a bit more patience. It’s a two-way street, people. I’m just sayin’.

Over all, I believe Kay had it right.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

accepting the new way of being

I’ve been home since September. With the exception of the wedding and Christmas, I haven’t really ‘done’ that much. I have these moments of inspiration. To paint the kitchen cabinets. To paint the bedroom. To rearrange the way we store things.
These moments of inspiration make me feel enthusiastic and purposeful!
I quite like it.
The moment I prep myself to consider tackling one of these projects I’m hit with the full realization that my brain is fighting against the rest of my body. I have the energy and the desire to step up. But every time I swing the bat, BAM! I’m hit full force with the pain I so successfully ignore while executing simple daily tasks.

I felt like I’d be at home and rest and heal and still get things done.
I’m considering forcing myself to begin a project. I’m excellent at finishing what I start. So by forcing myself to begin a project I know I’ll have to finish it. But, how will that impact the way I feel? What will that do to the healing process?
Let’s get real. I don’t really think I’m healing. I think this is just how it is. I’ve lived with pain before. I can do it again.
I’m sick and tired of waiting. Putting everything aside until I feel well.
I might not ever feel well again. Acceptance is key.
I accept that I might not “get better”. But I’m tired of putting my life on hold because of it. I’m just going to suck it up and do the things I choose to accomplish.
I will simply learn to function in this new way of being.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

why am I always surprised?

I’m always surprised. You’d think after 26 years I would have figured it out…but no, every single time, I’m surprised.

My former husband called me Friday and said: happy Easter. (Aww, that was kind…did I mention I should have known better than to think is was sincere?)
After a brief time of catching up, he asks if I know what Thing 1 did.
Uh…no.
Well it seems she went to the emergency room and the bill showed up at his house as that’s the one listed on her driver’s license. So he wants to know what I’m going to do about the bill.
Pardon?

I suggest we have a mini discussion about it with Thing 1, see if we can come up with a plan all together. (I mean if she’s off shacked up with this guy, why are we still financially responsible for her?)

Then he begins to talk about Thing 2 and how bad her anxiety has become.
I suggest he take her to the doctor. He has no idea what that means…no idea where to start. I suggest he take her to the family practitioner and go from there…and when he hems and haws I remind him that he’s the parent and he has to be responsible for her. Which kind of turns into a bigger discussion than he’s interested in so he hustles off the phone but not before he says he’ll call me back. (He doesn’t.)

Saturday morning I get a call from Thing 1, guns a’ blazing. She’s all bent because, “Daddy told me you said send the bill to me. How am I supposed to pay it?”
Whoa there sister.
I do a little damage control and move on.

I call her father (who conveniently doesn’t answer) and leave a message.
When he finally calls me back, I’m like, what’s your deal?
He says: Well I was mad at you so I called Thing 1. (You stupid, passive aggressive, manipulative jackass!)
I stop him right there and say, “You have got to get it together! Be a grown up, be a man! If you are angry with me, you talk to ME! Not our children! You’re up my ass about money but can’t be bothered to discuss what’s going on with Thing 2. You’ve made a huge mess down there and you are going to have to clean it up.”
He is quiet, then he makes excuses, then he apologizes. (The apology is meaningless, he just says it out of habit, to end the conversation.)

I honestly don’t understand. Any of it really. Starting with the fact I thought he was a grown up all those long years ago and ending with how I continue to ask myself, why did I choose to remain blind for so long?

I made a promise to remain hands off in the fall when he and Thing 2 decided she didn’t need a mommy in her life.
I made that promise to myself. I vowed not to clean up whatever mess they made. It has made for some harrowing moments for me…but I am sticking to it.
The problem is they’ve made a bigger mess than I could have ever imagined. Thing 2 will suffer for it, but she is choosing to…
He has no idea how to be a parent other than to provide food and shelter…that’s all he’s ever done.
The thing that frustrates me the most is the fact he won’t admit he’s cocked it up. He would rather let it all burn than admit he’s made a mess and try and figure out how to clean it up…or ask for help cleaning it up.

He called me under the guise of happy Easter, my beloved Easter. And I was surprised when it went down the rabbit hole. (Shame on me.)
When will I stop being surprised? Why do I continue to give the benefit of the doubt?

I am so much better off away from that toxicity.
I’ve thrown my baby a life raft, she’s choosing not to take it.
It’s time to sink or swim.
My friend and mentor has told me I built her foundation and she’ll be successful in spite of all this…I trust that.

I’m so disappointed in myself for believing so long that he is something he’s not…I believed the facade I helped create.

Categories: divorce, me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

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