Friday, February 10, 2017

these keystrokes were meant for my resume, but I decided you deserved them instead

I’m in counseling. Long-term, weekly sessions. I’m journaling through my shit. I’m publishing my shit. Bought a Dreambook. Filled out the Dreambook. Haven’t scheduled my days as is the next phase of successful dreaming. I recognize this is a difficulty for me, and I’m mentally combing through this difficulty. I purchased and am reading The Well Life, the accompanying book to the Dreambook. Reading, writing, highlighting as I move closer and closer to a more wellness-filled life. I’m working on things. I thought I was doing okay. Then I’m hit with a thoroughly frustrated, angry, sad -- who knows all of the emotions -- husband asking me why I’ve been late to work and not caring about work or my responsibilities or our relationship.


I don’t know if life means to do this, but just today I was thinking, “My blog came from a place of pain and transformed as I transformed. I’m not in that place of pain and struggle anymore. My blog won’t have the same effect of healing, captivating writing.” Oh Life! The struggle always exists is what you are trying to tell me, am I correct? The struggle is real and it’s here and doesn’t go away because of someone’s journal and books and highlighted ah-ha moments.The struggle is real, and so is the silver lining. This night has made for one hell of a blog post.


I’ve suspected I wasn’t a good wife before I became a wife. I wasn’t a good fiance and I wasn’t a good girlfriend, long-distance and while cohabitating. I need, need, need. I’m sad, anxious, confused, detached. No cooking. No cleaning. And now no sexing. I had a counseling appointment today and I talked with her about my struggles with P’s sarcasm and disrespect of my abilities, capabilities, things I’m striving for, the transforming that I don’t think will ever cease.


I found an event that I really want to go to - a women’s summit with internationally acclaimed authors. AUTHORS! The networking opportunities are so invaluable on my quest to author-hood. I knew instantly it was going to be a hard sell with my husband. Are wives supposed to have to make “hard sells” to their husbands? No support. Just sarcasm and saying, and I quote, “You can barely get around town, how are you going to travel out of state?” And, “What are you going to network? You’re in marketing.” Oh, and the zinger response to me saying this will help me with writing my book, “What have you written?” Deflation at its finest (aside from that whole Tom Brady thing). Totally not a sports-quippy person but that one popped in my head given the Patriots Super Bowl win.


I’ve been barely making it to work on time. Sometimes I take naps in my car during lunch, although I feel so dirty when I do that. Shame is entering my being. Sadness, doubt, immobility. I ignore his calls when I’m at work. Okay, that’s true. I am late to work. Yes, so what? You don’t have any respect for our relationship. Insight: my respect of our relationship is directly related to the respect you give me as your wife.


I’m just tired. We had a tiring gf/bf experience. Engaged wasn’t better and actually cultivated fear that I’ll be marrying this person who I am yelling to, arguing with, avoiding coming home to, etc. And now, as husband and wife, I’m up late night in the living room with Fox news on (I don’t like Fox news but literally nothing else is on) rambling (interestingly for you I hope) about my husband in “our” bedroom that I haven’t been sleeping in (because guest bedrooms secretly double as I’d-rather-sleep-with-my-dog-than-my-husband getaways.


My previous counselor told me that there is nothing lonelier than a lonely marriage. I can say with almost full certainty that P feels lonely. I’ve felt lonely most of my life. Depression. Anxiety. Shyness. Alcoholism. Substance abuse. Broken friendships and romantic relationships. Failed courses. Three colleges. Are all of these things ingredients for a future stressful marriage and terrible wife-fullness?


True love. Another great segway. I haven’t felt true love with anyone. Maybe partially or short-term or with honest intention. Marijuana and cocaine, and ecstasy (forgot about that one) -- these were loving times. Working out every day and running were loving times. Worshipping at First Baptist in college, where I was baptized (9-years to the day in a few minutes) -- this was an especially loving time. I’ve never felt fully accepted either. Love and acceptance -- these begin with myself, my internal authentic self. I read, read, read Henri Nouwen, Lisa Wingate, The Well Life, Dreambook...you hear my struggle and recommend a book and I’ll be done reading it by the next time we talk. If reading was living out these insights this blog would be dramatically different.


One big question I have after talking with my counselor about husband’s responses to the event I want to attend in addition to his sarcasm and blatant disrespect or belief in me as a person who can do more than breathe and be late to work. Can self-work, the quest to build and solidify your true authentic life that leads you to a living a purposeful, living your dream, giving all you have to be not just another person on earth, exist when you are no longer an individual? I come with husband. But my duty as a wife and friend and stable human being requires this self-work. So it’s kind of like a non-negotiable if he wants me as a wife. Because my self-work uplifts me to try and be the best person I can be.


We are 1 ⅓ years into our marriage. But these problems just didn’t pop up because we’re adjusting to marriage. I’ve known this man for 9 years. Up and down, on and off, him connecting with his ex gf and blatantly lying about it to my face. Me getting fed up with his mean bullshit and meeting a guy that I moved to be with and absolutely sabotaged by getting so drunk at his family reunion that I literally had a psychotic episode because I was currently on depression medication (which I hid from him) and consumed an incredible amount of whiskey and soda. That brought me to a city 2.5 hours away from P. He wanted to save me, take my mind off of things, so we became closer and closer and here I am. Here.I.am.


So my passing thought today that I wouldn’t have anything transformation-related to write is no longer an “Oh no, what will I do?” and more of a “Shit happens. To me. And you get to read about it.”

No comments:

Post a Comment