I don’t know

When do you know when it’s over? How will I know when it’s over?

I knew that when I married him that he wasn’t a communicator. But I loved him, so I worked with it. It was hard. Decisions we should have been making together were made by me. Discussions that needed to be had, were had by me alone. We fought about it.

When you are young and married, you really don’t fight fair. I know I didn’t. I was taught to use guilt, be mean and nasty. Let it get ugly. I did that to him many times.

He never learned how to fight, he also never learned how to communicate growing up. His dad was a wonderfully, mild mannered soul. His mom ran the house and everyone in it. She put the fear of God in everyone. If she liked you, you were good. If she didn’t, you were screwed. And she could turn on a dime. You never knew what her mood would be. I don’t know what it was like for him to grow up like that. He has talked about some of it, but not all of it. I know it impacted him and how he deals with relationships or doesn’t deal with relationships.

What I can’t get past, is that we have spent the last 35 years together. Over half our lives. We have gone through sooooooooooooooooo many of life’s ups and downs together. I thought we always came out closer, stronger. Maybe I was wrong. I don’t want to be wrong. I am very afraid I was wrong.

I need, want and deserve someone that will share their thoughts and feelings with me and listen to mine. I want that to be him. I don’t think he wants it to be me.

I have felt so alone for a long time. I ignored it. I didn’t want it to be real. How can the man I love make me feel so………….worthless? Is it the years of being together? Is it boredom? Is it complacency? I am far from perfect. I try to keep things new and interesting. I try and tell him I find him attractive and I want him, do things he likes. I try. I ask what else I can do. His normal answer for any question – I don’t know.

I can’t keep living with I don’t know. He has to know something, right? He has to know if he wants me or not, right? He has to know if he loves me or not, right? He has to know, right?

So many memories wrapped up in what was us. Will there still be an us?

Why doesn’t he fight for me?

Am I not worth fighting for?

Why doesn’t he want a future with me?

Has the past been that awful with me?

I wish I knew what was in his head. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wish I wasn’t so incredibly sad, hurt, raw, brokenhearted…….

Will we make it?

I don’t know.

my fat suit

I will call it my fat suit. It is exactly what it sounds like. About 10 years ago I thought I had rid myself of my fat suit. I was wrong.

Those of you that have read my previous posts know I had gastric bypass surgery. You know I have struggled with weight from my teenage years through adulthood. I thought I ended the cycle. I was wrong.

I used my fat suit over the years to protect me. If I was fat and unappealing, the harassment I endured would stop. If I was fat, people wouldn’t expect anything from me. If I was fat, it was fine to be average – even below average. If I was fat, I wouldn’t get hurt. No one really loves a fat girl. No one really wants to be in a relationship with a fat girl. And anyone that says they do love the fat girl or do want a relationship with the fat girl is just trying to make the fat girl feel good. They don’t mean what they say, they are just trying not to hurt the fat girls feelings.

My fat suit allowed me to not feel. My fat suit allowed me to make excuses. My fat suit kept me safe from heartache and pain. My fat suit insulated me against the big bad world.

I thought I would never go back to my fat suit. I was wrong

I thought I would never need my fat suit again. I was wrong.

I thought it was okay to open up and feel love without the fat suit. I was wrong.

My fat suit is returning pound by pound. It will protect me from the hurt. It will insulate me from the pain of him not loving me anymore.

I thought I didn’t need my fat suit. I was wrong.

the beginning of the end or the start of the beginning…

There are too many decisions that I need to make. Too many people, places and things that I feel ultimately responsible for. I feel like I know where I want to be, I just don’t know how to get there. And if I get there, is that really where I will want to be?

Decisions about my daughter. Do I finally kick her out? Do I send the boyfriend a trespass letter? Why did she let him in my home? She was told multiple times he is not allowed in my home. She will say he was only in the garage. It doesn’t matter. It is still my house. Will my decision blow up her world and the trickle down will blow up my world? A decision I do not want to make alone, but I am being forced to make alone. Will I find her with an open scissors against her arm, again? Will I hear yet another screaming phone call while she fights with the boyfriend, but then go to church with his mom? So much I just can’t understand. I want to understand, but I can’t. I want to help, but I can’t. I want and need to make the right decision. I won’t.

Decisions about my job. Do I leave a 32 year job? Do I take the pay cut for my own mental health and sanity? Am I tired of being a “convenience” for everyone I work with? I feel I am just paid to sit and be convenient for others. I smile, I laugh, I entertain. Why? What am I getting out of it? Am I growing as an employee? No, because I am not allowed to grow. I am not allowed to think unless someone needs me to think. What will the pay cut mean to my family? Will he help me make this decision? No, he won’t. I will hear the same answer from him, I don’t know.

Really? Guess what? I don’t fucking know either. I don’t want to make the decisions anymore. I don’t want to feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I don’t want to be used as everyone’s punching bag. I don’t want to be a convenience.

I want to be numb, even for a little while. I want to be truly happy, even for a little while. I want to be taken care of, even for a little while. I want to be heard, even for a little while. I want to be truly loved, even for a little while.

So, is this the beginning of the end or the start of the beginning……

Her end

I feel her end is near. I fear her end is near.

She will not accept help. She will not listen to anyone but him.

He is killing her slowly. She is killing herself slowly.

She is allowing it. I can’t stop it.

I can’t save her. She doesn’t want to be saved.

The what if’s are winning

What if…

…the world never returns to being normally fucked up and stays super fucked up

…I fail at my new adventure

…I fall on my face and hear all naysayers chanting I told you so

…I am confusing love for pity or pity for love

….I miss out on something amazing because I am scared

…the truth really does set you free

…I stop hearing the music

…my fears come true

…I actually succeed

…I stop feeling the music

…I find independence and like it

…it’s really better to walk away

…it’s not

…the music stops healing me

…I never get my what if’s answered

I want my fucking fairytale

Yes, I want my fucking fairytale. I want my happily ever after. If I remember correctly; there is typically a beautiful (okay, I’m not beautiful) young woman (I’m also not young) whose life has taken a turn for the worse (I have plenty of fucking turns for the worse). The beautiful young woman has to endure her pitiful life for a few pages and then, low and behold, things start looking up. She has apparently paid her dues, followed the rules, kissed the frog and poof – happily ever after.

Hell, everyone knows or at least should know, the movie Pretty Woman. Vivian is a down on her luck “escort”, Edward happens to be having a car problem in Vivian’s area and Vivian is more than happy to help Edward. They have their ups and downs. Vivian dealt with the ignorance of society, Edward dealt with the stigma of falling in love with an “escort”. In the end, their love saved them both. It might not have been castle tower or a white steed, but I’ll take a fire escape and a white limo with my prince any day!

I might be a bit jaded after seeing 50 years of what the world has to offer and the bullshit that comes with it. But I think if I want my fairytale and my happily ever after, I will have to be the one to make it come true. The only person that is going to rescue me from the fire escape of life is me. That might be what I have been doing wrong this entire time. I have been hoping, praying and waiting for my prince to rescue me and whisk me away, but maybe I have to rescue myself.

Tired

I am tired

I am tired of fighting for happiness

I am tired of fighting for love

I am tired of feeling useless

I am tired of feeling worthless

I am tired of giving my all to others

I am tired of playing pretend

I am tired; mind, body and soul

I am tired of feeling out of control

I am tired of my spinning world

I am tired of living the lies every day

I am just tired

Your words

Your words fill my broken heart with happiness

Your words heal me

Your words soothe my wounded soul

Your words make me feel alive

Your words create a melody in my mind

Your words are my oxygen

Your words make me feel beautiful

Your words surround me in warmth

Your words are love

Losing it, lost it, gone

We all have days where we try to convince ourselves that we are okay. We got it all under control, right? I think it’s part of self-preservation. I know if I didn’t pretend everything is A-OK, I would have been committed by now.

My question is, when is it time to stop pretending? When is it acceptable to stop pretending? My game face is tired. My mind is tired. My body is tired. I am contemplating taking a weekend getaway, just for me. Just to see what it is like to be alone and not responsible for anyone but me. I can’t remember a time when I did anything like that. Is that sad? I wouldn’t even know where to go or what to do. Would I just sleep, read, watch TV? I have no clue. Could I actually be alone for an entire 48 hours? Maybe I’m afraid of what I would discover about myself. What if I like the alone time? What if I realize what is supposed to make me happy doesn’t? Then what? I create a brand new hell for myself to live with day in and day out.

The girl child plays heavily into my daily struggles. At the end of last week I felt like I had finally come to terms with what I needed to do. I wrote my girl a list of expectations. Things that needed to change if she was going to continue living in my house and what I would and would not do for her if she chose to move out. I am giving her a two week period to make changes. I don’t know when I will give it to her. I assume there will be yelling and screaming and tears. And of course this weekend my girl was actually…..sweet, nice, helpful. She is also at the beginning stages of a manic episode. I guess there really isn’t a right time, I’m hoping I will know when it’s time. And I hope I will be able to live with the repercussions.

Maybe I’m just going through a mid-life crisis. Maybe I’m a wreck because I’m going through menopause, which I have no actual symptoms of. Maybe I’m at a point where I just keep on pretending because it’s too late for a change. It’s too late to figure out what I want and what I don’t want. It’s too late to stop pretending. Time to put the game face back on. Time to keep pretending.

Nighttime thoughts

A few years ago I read an article about sleep. It had some tips/tricks to try when you can’t fall asleep. There is only one thing I remember and actually use from that article. When you are nice and comfy in bed, close your eyes and starting at the tip top of your head tell your body to relax. You work your way down, forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, all the way down to your feet. It really does work. Sometimes I have to do it a few times, but I eventually feel my body relax.

Last night as I was on my third or fourth round of trying to relax my body when my brain interrupted. I was starting at the top of my head and my brain clicked on. Suddenly, instead of relaxing each part of my body I was critiquing each part of my body.

Top of my head/hair – thinning hair/gray hair. Solution: get plugs and weekly trips to the salon.

Forehead – wrinkles. Solution: Botox

Eyebrows – I’m actually good with my brows

Eyes – droopy lashes & crows feet. Solution: eyelash extensions and Botox

Nose – no change needed, in my opinion

Cheeks – starting to sag. Solution: facelift (this will also help the jowls, so it’s two for two!)

Lip – I’m OK with my lips at this point. Maybe a little Botox in the laugh line area.

Chin – eh, the chin is fine.

Neck – Christ, where do I start. Just a total do-over. That shit needs to be tightened and pulled where ever possible.

Shoulders – significant slouching from years of carrying a heavy load. Solution: there is no solution, the heavy load will be with me for the rest of my life. Besides, if I throw my shoulders back it looks like I’m flaunty my saggy boobs.

Upper arms – flabby and gross. Solution: a nice nip/tuck will fix that up in a jiffy.

Boobs – similar to two unevenly deflated balloons. Solution: new boobs – easy peasy

Forearms – I mean they’re just forearms…….

Hands – look old and wrinkled. Solution: I think I can get fat injected in my hands so they look young and plump.

Mid-section – (insert vomit noise) Solution: nothing a little lipo and full body tuck wouldn’t fix.

Buttock – (insert second vomit noise) Solution: the full body tuck should help my saggy bottom, but maybe a Brazilian Butt lift for the win!

Lady bits – ummmmm, I mean yes, they have been through years of use and childbirth. Solution: fairly certain there is a vaginal tightening process as well as a procedure to make everything look “aesthetically pleasing”. I might as well go for it.

Thighs – I will say I have strong legs, however would kill for that oh so sexy thigh gap. Solution: I think some lipo and an inner thigh lift should do nicely.

Calves – I’m honestly OK with my calves.

Feet – I like my feet.

So, after all that I couldn’t sleep. I had laid out all my flaws and had no fixes for them. I reminded myself of all my insecurities. There they were playing over and over again in my head. Why? Why do I do this to myself? I have no answer.

When it was finally time to get out of bed and start the day, part of my routine is music. I LOVE MUSIC. Morning shower music is the best. As I’m standing under the hot water, thoughts still swirling from the night before, a song comes on that made me go hmmmmmmmmmm. Is it a coincidence or is the universe trying to tell me something. What song was it you ask…..Love me by Katy Perry

I lost myself in fear of losing you
I wish I didn’t do
But I did
I lost my own, my own identity
Forgot that you picked me for me

But now, I don’t negotiate with insecurities
They always seem to get the best of me
I found the head to love myself, the way I want you to

Love me, no more second guessing
No, there’s no more questioning
I’ll be the one to find who I’m gonna be
No concealing feelings, or changing seasonally
I’m gonna love myself, the way I want you to love me
Sometimes I wish my skin was a costume

That I could just unzip, and strip
But who I am is who I’m meant to be
And it’s who you are in love, in love with
So now, I don’t negotiate with insecurities

They come and have to take a backseat
I know I have to let myself the way I want you to
Love me, no more second guessing

No, there’s no more questioning
I’ll be the one to find who I’m gonna be
No concealing feelings, or changing seasonally
I’m gonna love myself, the way I want you to love me
No more standing in my own way
(Let’s get deeper, let’s get closer)

No more standing in my own way
(I want you to love me)
No more standing in my own way
(Let’s get deeper, let’s get closer)
No more standing in my own way
(I want you to love me)
Love me, no more second guessing
No, there’s no more questioning

I’ll be the one to find who I’m gonna be
No concealing feelings, or changing seasonally
I’m gonna love myself, the way I want you to love me
Love me, no more second guessing
No, there’s no more questioning
I’ll be the one to find who I’m gonna be
No concealing feelings, or changing seasonally
I’m gonna love myself, the way I want you to love me

Moral of the song? I’m gonna love myself, the way I want you to love me. At least I’m gonna try.