I didn’t have a “normal” upbringing, I think I have made that abundantly clear in this blog already. The basic things that most people just grew up taking for granted weren’t there for me. I didn’t grow up knowing my parents loved me, I grew up hearing my vary existence made their life more difficult. I didn’t have the certainty that I was safe in my house, instead I would wake up to strangers hovering over my bed. I wasn’t protected and cherished, I wasn’t given the same starting point as everyone else.
I was 18 years old before I was able to wake up in my own bed and know that no one was going to come in during the middle of the night or be there when I woke up in the morning. I was told not to show emotion or things would be worse for me, to this day I still don’t know how to properly show what I am feeling. I grew up hearing I was worthless and even today people who are supposed to care about me treat me as an after thought. I was taught love is conditional and only those who do as they are told will be loved, so I make myself what I think people want me to be in order to win approval.
I have no real concept of who I am, because until a few years ago I was nobody and everybody. I was a phantom who could put on a mask and be whomever you wanted. Now I am real, the ghost is gone, but I am a tiny person traded in a body that isn’t mine. I have no concept of how to be an adult because I am still just trying to learn how it is to be a human being. I was stunted but I am growing. Everyday I try to grow.
The people around me don’t understand, or see that the things that seem to come so easily for them are difficult for me. Sometimes I wish I had Autism or Down Syndrome, some label that I could give so people would understand that I don’t experience life the way they do. It’s all new and scary and just being there is a huge effort for me. Instead I am met with disdain, my efforts scorned and laughed at and I am left wondering why do I even bother. How is this better than being the phantom?
The sad conclusion I reached today is….what if this is how it will always be? What if I will spend my life trying to connect, to be more than I am, and keep getting shoved down? Is that my role in this life? To be on the inside looking out? Trapped inside a tiny box, locked away from any real life.
It’s things like this that make me wonder why I should even bother, if everything I do just fails in the end anyways.
I have no idea why I am writing this, but I have to tell someone, get this out of me.
I feel like I am losing it, all day long I shift back and forth between panic and mind numbing depression. I can’t go outside anymore, I hardly leave my room. I have dreams about hurting myself. I just want to be sane, to stop hurting but I am losing my grip on reality.
I started losing time again, I was integrated for the better part of two years, maybe it was all a lie though. Maybe my existence is a lie. I just don’t know what to do anymore.
My marriage is over, it may never have been a legal marriage but it was a marriage to me in my heart. After almost 7 years I left…perhaps that doesnt make any sense after struggling for the last 2 years to fix the damage we both did but its what I had to do.
I did an insane amount of soul searching, I looked at who I was before the relationship, before the affair, now, and who I want to be. I looked at who he had been and who he is now, I realized everything that had made us who we were together was gone. More over when I tried to get it back he blatantly wanted nothing but to keep on where he was going.
I had an affair, so did he…the difference is that I tried to fix things afterward and he shut off, maybe its my fault…I dont know. I do no that after the last fight I am done, I refuse to be a statistic, I wont have a family with a man who hurts me.
So I left, my marriage is over and I struggle to pick up the pieces.
Okay the title of this post is due to today, May 4th, having been Free Comic book day, and also because Spider-Man has a sixth sense that alters him of danger.
So Free Comic Book Day is when once a year comic book companies put out a free intro comic book to try to draw in new readership. Its a really big deal in certain circles and has become a fun tradition for my Husband and me.
I should explain that H participates in a once a week game, Heroclix, at a local comic shop and that due to my schedule…and general lack of interest I don’t attend anymore, though I have in the past. Last time was more than a year ago though.
So when hubby and I walk into the store there is this really attractive girl dressed up as Wonder Woman, my fav DC super hero. I was excited to talk to her but hubby beats me to it and makes a bad joke about her wearing pants rather than panties. I was like *blink* and then the two carry on this really familiar conversation and I come to find out she plays Heroclix with him every week. I think nothing of it, until we leave the store.
Right away he starts apologizing t me about just realizing I had never met her before. I made a comment about her being really pretty, we joke around alot about such things and he never plays coy, but this time he differs and gets all weird. He says, compared to what? The goes quiet and says she is okay. Goes quiet again and says he doesnt think she is that pretty, I ask why not, he makes some lame comment about her hair.
Then we are driving to another comic book store and he is quiet the whole way, until we stop then he asks why I wanted to knpw if I thought she was attractive. WTF…its a 2 hr drive…he was silent for 2 hrs and then mentions it again? My husband is Mr. TERSE never talks about anything but he wouldn’t let this go.
Am i being paranoid or is this suspicious? I have never before in 7 years seen him act that way and never until today really been suspicious of him. Even after him cheating I was never suspicious cause he acted the same, but this was just beyond weird.
A day I will never forget, it’s the day I went through on of the most painful (physically and mentally) parts of my adult life. I had a miscarriage at about 3 months pregnant. It’s not my first miscarriage, and I had a son die of SIDS, at 1 hr old when I was 19. This was different though, in so many ways.
I knew I was pregnant almost from day one, which is a mixed blessing as I was daily in awe of everything that was going one with me and my body.
My husband knew even though we hadn’t communicated about it (I have Polycystic Ovaries so I go long times between periods). We were both worried about timing but wanted the baby.
I am taking this harder than any other time except the death of Jonathan, my son who would have been 10 this Nov.
After reading some blog about it recently I realized a large part of why I was having ao much trouble is because I felt my husband wasn’t really in the same place as me and wasn’t really greiving. After a huge fight I learned otherwise and we talked of ways to deal with this together, and one way we decided is to get a bear from build a bear and have it be a memorial bear.
We decided to name the baby we lost, we never got to know it’s sex, so we chose gender neutral names. Oddly it really does help having a name for our lost little one, it makes it feel real and valid.
So rest in peace little Taylor Jaime, your mommy amd daddy are sad we never got to know you, but I pray some how you know we love you always.
So I haven’t mentioned much about my family and nothing at all really about my extended family. There is a reason for that, we aren’t close. My talks with members of my family have been fluffy nonsense for over a decade now, nothing real or substantial.
As to my extended family I haven’t seen or spoken to them since my father’s suicide in 1994. My father hung himself in my maternal grandparents front yard. They haven’t bothered visiting or writting since, its like I don’t exist.
Yet the other day I get a call from my mother telling me my grandmother had a mild stroke. She was able talk and function, no one really made a big deal about it. The doctors decided she was okay enough to come home less than a week later. Her first day home a get another call from my mother saying my grandmother fell and broke her hip.
After all the tests it seemed my grandmothet’s fall was caused by another stroke, this one more severe. My grandmother who used to tell me bedtimes stories with het lovely accent can’t talk anymore. The strojes took her speech. They don’t think their was brain damage but its so hard to tell. Her hip wasn”t just broken it was shatteted, they spent 12 hrs digging out bone fragments. She may never walk again. For sure she will have to have live in help and it will be weeks until she can go home again.
I always thought she would be at my wedding, I am common law married but we still want the church wedding. She might not live to Easter, let alone Christmas….not that she celebrates either being Jewish.
I spent the last 17 years angry at her for cutting us off after my father’s death, now I will never get to talk to her again.
Letter from a Wife to a Mistress
This isn’t written by me but it brought tears to my eyes. It speaks to me in so many ways.