You know, there are some days I just wake up and I don't feel like being nice. I read these bullshit inspirational quotes and big long dissertations about accountability and reaping what you sow, and WWJD, and doing onto others and I think, I just feel like tripping a puppy today. I'm not in a bad mood, but I could easily skip along happily keying cars. Just for today. Tomorrow I will be back to random acts of kindness, supportive hugs and, sparkling sweetness. Today, well today I need to be an asshole. I deserve asshole day occasionally. I'm not a bad person for thinking this. I'm normal. I'm honest. I'm not out to impress anyone. I am waving the crotchety flag of pride. Don't lie. You feel this way too occasionally. I was talking to my sister yesterday, who was actually hunting up a toilet skirt. Yes folks, she wants a fru fru bed skirt situation to go around the bowl of the toilet because she hates cleaning. My disgust for this idea was palpable. I have raised 2 boys and 2 girls. Back splash, diarrhea, and missing the bowl entirely is a thing--no matter what age or gender, there will be pee...or poop. Why on earth would you want a big fluffy lace thing to hang around the bowl? She said, "That does not happen here." Mmmmkay. Bullshit. Don't lie to me. OMG, why do people insist on lying? You shit, fart, and pee. You pick your nose, you know what a booger tastes like, you pop zits and you might have even thought it was cool at one point to see that little explosion. Get over yourself. You also have a crotchety day occasionally. And for the love of GOD, do not put a lace skirt around your toilet bowl. Yuck. Even if it wasn't gross, the look of it alone would make my hair fall out. It's called a throne, we don't need it to look like a throne.
I wonder what a crotchety flag would look like, if there was such a day to be proud of. At the very least, I need one of those magnetic ribbons to stick on my Volkswagen on Crotchety Pride Day.
While I'm at it...lets go HERE>>>>>
For those readers that think this is all about my recent tirade to Germany, insistent that my going 5400 miles ALONE to stay ALONE with men ALONE has made me into a hateful mean person that has no more regard for her family, no respect for the vows she made to her husband, no more morals. No.
I hate to break it to you, but I have always had the occasional hateful day. Not in a bad mood, not depressed, but not afraid to pinch you just because I want to hear you say ow.
The keying cars thing? When I worked in valet at the casino, years and years ago, I often entertained the thought of happily running through the parking lot, arms outstretched, with a loaded key ring in each hand. I never did it, but the thought made my lips curl into an evil smile. I realize now, I was simply celebrating Crotch Pride Day.
Germany. Sigh. This has been a full plate since I took it on over a year ago. A meet and greet for sport whip cracking, hosted by my friend and teacher. I asked if I could attend and he said that he would give me room and board if I could come, absolutely. I never made my desire to go a secret and I had saved up the money on 3 occasions and gave it away to help with bills 3 times before finally getting the money together a 4th time to go. I got a HUGE deal on my plane tickets, I was truly fortunate that I was able to go at all. When I bought them, everyone was shocked and instantly disapproving despite the FACT that I had been talking about it for a YEAR.
I'm not going to lie. I would have never considered going if I was still 500 pounds. I would have never taken up whip cracking in the first place. I would have never had the self worth or self esteem to think I could do anything alone or for myself. I would still be completely dependent on my husband for everything, which, I think he is threatened by. He married me at 500 pounds. He took me as I was and loved me as I was, despite the fact that I never loved myself. I never thought I would find love, never thought I would have a family--and it is precious to me, but now...now I'm precious to me too and it is threatening to the man that has always taken care of me. He knows I won't go back to that cowering, ugly, needy, simpering person I was. I can't now. I can't physically do it.
Sadly, I can't seem to make him believe that I love him and simply want a partner instead of a caregiver. Because I don't need him as I did, he thinks I don't need him. I am very afraid that he will never trust me and never let me stand on my own and he will eventually leave me. He also knows that I can survive that and he hates it.
He thinks I don't get it. I get it, but how could he say he loves me while wanting what he had before? I was dying. I would have been in a wheelchair or using a walker to truck my fat ass around by now. I would have been wearing shapeless mumu dresses as I hid away in this prison. Would I be loved? Yes, of course. I believe I'm loved now, but his jealousy is too much for him and he keeps trying to win me over with gifts instead of standing with me and letting me be a person. He is still trying to nurse me down and I am just trying to wake up from this long sleep.
So, I went to Germany and stayed with my friend, who happens to be a man. There were many men there and I one of only 2 women. The other woman, being the partner of the man I stayed with. Both of us were perfectly safe, treated with respect, and there was nothing to be ashamed of. Not ever. I am home now and I see that I should be ashamed, but I don't know why. I'm even discouraged from going again.
The meet and greet was for whip cracking. To bring my family with me would be like me being dragged to a car show. I would be bored and the kids would be ancey and no one would enjoy anything. My family would be left out, the third wheel. I would be too busy taking care of the kids and trying to make everyone happy to enjoy my time or learn anything. I went alone, because this was MY THING. My thing that I wanted to enjoy, myself, with my friends.
If I had the money to take my family to Germany just to go to Germany, I would absolutely do that, but its expensive, so I chose the thing I could afford and that was to go to the meeting and to go alone. I will go again. I'm not afraid and I'm not a horrible person for making that decision. No amount of guilt and arguments will change it. I am different. I'm sorry I'm different. I want Curtis to be different with me. I want him to be proud of me and to trust me and to support me. I want him to accept who I am friends with and to trust that I am able to make good decisions about who I associate with. I want him to acknowledge that I am not stupid. That I can test the water and still be a good and loving mom and faithful wife. I want him to know that I want all this, but I am not afraid to stand on my own either. I want him to stop bargaining with me and just let me live without there having to be some kind of exchange for it.
This isn't new. This has been going on for years and I have complained, I've asked council, I have given and taken and bargained, I've prayed, I've cursed, I've cried and until I went to Germany, I was ignored. "Everything is fine." He says. "I have no idea what you are talking about, we have a great and perfect marriage."
Then, the day I came home from Germany, I misread a text. I had asked several times for the phone bill to be paid. Every time I asked if it was done, I got a no. This is not new for anyone. Customers, friends, the kids, me...you can ask and usually, there is an excuse. Often, the excuse is a lie. So on the way home, I asked "Dare I ask if you paid the phone bill?" Snarky, yes, but I knew the answer...
To which the first line of the reply was, "No I didn't pay it because..."
Why read further? I just decided to pay it when I got home, which I did--again. You see it was paid, but I failed to read the text through. I said I was sorry, but can you blame me? What on earth would make me read further? I had no reliability to fall back on, no benefit of the doubt to be had. I've been there, done that many, many, MANY times.
The day after I came home, he leaves for work as usual. Interestingly, when he gets to work., I get an angry text about how we "need work" and how I don't care about him, ignore his texts, make him feel bad. Are you kidding me? 15 years of being lied to, let down, manipulated, and drug into the same reputation hole you have dug for yourself, embarrassed to even leave the house and I make YOU feel bad? What the hell out-of-the blue? He would not take my call and when he came home, he pretended nothing happened, has not discussed it and I am afraid to. He asks why I cry. I cry because you don't listen anyway. Because you are supposed to be my most trusted friend and I cant talk to you. Because you occupy space with me, but you wont share it--you thrust it in my face. You are obsessed with "things" instead of taking time away from the "things," to connect with the people you love. You won't say no to the people you should and you won't say yes to the people you should. Because you insist on making me feel guilty for nothing. I cry because I am growing up and I just want you to grow with me..and you won't.