12 posts tagged “relationships”
Today is a rather special day, as it is me and Iain's first wedding anniversary.
Last year, at 11:00 on the 11th of January 2007, we got hitched and I can proudly say that we can still mildly tolerate each other to this day.
I really can't believe it's been a year. Not because I feel like, "THANK GOD WE MADE IT!" but because this whole marriage thing really doesn't seem to be that hard. You always hear on TV shows and movies that "The first year of marriage is the hardest." and that "Marriage is such hard work!" and I have to disagree.
Relationships, and not necessarily marriage, are hard, simply because compromise is hard. Living with someone else is hard, because you have two egos, two sets of hopes, and two sets of opinions under one roof. Two tempers, two sets of insecurities and hangups and one person who's body freaks out once a month and goes all hormonal and crampy and SHEDEVILISH.
Marriage is simply a incredibly committed relationship where both people are truly, honestly, and 100% in it for the long haul. Where the mentality isn't, "Well, if we break up," or "Well, if we get divorced..." Or at least our marriage is.
I've found that the fiercer you love someone, the more tragic (though less frequent) your arguments seem. Iain and I don't really fight, but when we do, it's not fun.
I can't speak for Iain, but I know that I've had to learn a lot this year. I've learned that when I'm depressed, or angry, or stressed, I no longer have the luxury of just shutting everyone and everything out, climbing under the covers and crying my way through the days. It's not fair, and you cannot shut your partner out.
Of course there are moments where we both know that I need to fall apart for a minute, so I hide under the covers and cry my eyes out - but I always blow my nose, pull back the covers and then look Iain straight in the face and try my best to tell him how I feel. How I really feel.
I'm not perfect at this, but I'm trying.
I've learned that I have to come out of myself, and pull myself out of whatever mood I'm in to be there for my partner. I don't know about you, but it's very easy for me to just ball up with whatever I'm feeling and just stay there. It's very easy for me to just stay in my own little box and only come out when I want to.
But your partner needs you. There are times that even though I'm feeling miserable, I need to be able to pull out of my shell, pull my WOE IS ME cotton out of my ears and LISTEN to what Iain needs and BE THERE FOR HIM.
In marriage, you cannot be selfish. You cannot be self obsessed and needy. It's a give and take situation, just like any relationship. And if you love hard enough, and you love honestly, every stupid argument, every Kraft Singles plastic wrapper that gets left out on the counter and every used tea cup hiding under the bed is so, so worth it.
Happy Anniversary, Iain.
I love you.
"I have learned not to worry about love, but to honor its coming with all my heart."
I think I have spent my entire life worrying about love.
Wondering when it will find me, if it would find me, and if I were even worthy of it.
I spent a better part of my teens wanting boys to love me, even though they weren't capable of it. (Or were busy loving somebody else...) When I finally did find some one I thought loved me, I was sure that was it. I would never have to have my heart broken again.
However, my heart did break again. Over and over. It broke when I found out this boy didn't really love me. But it broke even further when I found out I did not love myself. The pain of not loving yourself is and will always be greater than any man breaking your heart - as chances are, you broke it long before he did.
I sat for months in two different rooms. I went from shop to shop in my car. I went to work. I watched the sunrise and sunset from the windows of that coffee shop. I watched the moonrise outside the same coffee shop, through the smoke from my cigarette, and the cigarettes from a group of people I pretended were my friends.
While I did all this, I worried about love. I worried about why it felt like my family didn't love me. I worried about why I didn't love me. I even worried that my dog didn't love me. ("WHY? WHY don't you like the sweater I bought you? It was TWENTY DOLLARS. Chihuahuas love sweaters! What is WRONG with YOU?")
Slowly but surely, I stopped worrying about everyone else so much, and I just thought about myself.
I watched Sex and the City in my pajamas. I went to the same bookstore night after night. My sister played me Jack Johnson in her car while we snuck out and went to In 'n Out burger because we didn't like the dinner our step dad made that night.
I cried listening to Fiona Apple. I screamed Since You Been Gone at the top of my lungs while flying down the freeway.
I figured out I could write.
Maybe, just maybe, I would be loved for the first time.
We spent our winter on opposite ends of the world, tucked in whatever empty, frozen corners we could find, talking until the wee hours of the morning.
We spent our spring, in love, and on opposite ends of the world. Both continuing to learn to love again, and learning how to love ourselves.
By the time we were finally under one roof, under one blanket, I knew love.
But knowing love doesn't mean I stopped worrying about it. I worried about the lost love of toxic friends, the love I never had from toxic parents, and still fought to fully love myself.
Somewhere along the way, all this worrying caused me to build up my own little shield. A shield that helped me fight the outside world. All the people who wanted a piece without wanting to give anything in return. I fought and I fought and then one day, I realized I was starting to fight the people who were on my team.
I got so concerned with protecting my heart that I forgot that I didn't need to protect it from you.
I was busy declaring to the world that if you don't love me enough you will never get in, that there were moments where I didn't let you in. I was hard, when I only needed to be soft. I was defensive, when there was no attack. I was tough when I could have been gentle.
And I worried about love when it was all around me.
There are people in my life who will never love me like I need them to. And that's okay.
I want to learn not to worry about love. I want to learn that just because one man did not love me the right way, it doesn't mean that you will stop loving me the right way.
I will stop worrying about love. I will honor it's coming. I will honor you, and all of the love that's on it's way.
The common argument I hear against "ranty", argumentative, bitchy feminists who rage about things such as "The Patriarchy", is that they're basically complaining about nothing. Or rather, they don't have the right to complain about "those sorts of things" because we "really don't have it that bad".
We don't have it "that bad" because we're not living in Africa, Darfur, or the Middle East.
We don't have it that bad because we're a bunch of white/privileged/upper-middle class/rich/American women, living in Western Civilizations.
We're not made to wear Burqas. We are not arrested in nightclubs for wearing a shirt that reveals our back. We don't acid thrown on us like the women we see on Oprah. We're not those women.
We can go to college. We can marry whoever we want. We can work wherever we want. We can get a divorce. We can go on the pill. We can make our own money, and wear what we want...
So we should just shut the fuck up, and stop crying into our Manolos. It's NOT THAT BAD.
I'm sorry, but this argument is fucked. Royally.
Basically, this argument just says to women, "Well, you're not struck by poverty and horrible living conditions, and you're not being raped in the jungle, so really, what the hell have you got to complain about?"
I am by no means saying that I don't have it "better" than the women in Africa and The Middle East who don't have nearly as many freedoms as I do. I think some of their living conditions and daily experiences are horrific and incredibly saddening. And at the same time I feel bad for even saying that I find their way of life "horrific" because really, some of the things we, as Western Women, find "horrific" are traditions, religions, and a heavy part of another woman's culture.
But, just how politically I don't think it's necessarily best for the Western Civilizations to bomb around telling everyone that their governments should look just like ours and function just like ours...I don't think its necessarily right to tell all other women that their religion is completely fucked, and that their lives should look just like ours.
We're all very aware of the fact that as Americans or Canadians or Europeans, our lives are freer, safer, and cleaner than the women in less fortunate situations. We know that.
But I don't think we should just shut up and love where we are because it's not as bad as elsewhere. That's like telling a woman who's husband tells her she's a fat, stupid bitch every night, that she shouldn't really complain, because at least he doesn't hit her.
When it's bad, it's bad. I don't are what level of bad you're at, once you've entered the threshold of "bad", you're in there. Sadness is sadness, no matter how deep.
Therefore, as women in the more "privileged countries", just because we've been told we can be whoever we want to be, and do whatever we want to do...doesn't exactly mean that things are peachy fucking keen.
So please don't tell me that "We've never had it so good!" and that "You've come a long way, baby!"
Try telling that to the MILLIONS of women at this very moment, shoving their delicately manicured fingers down their throats and vomiting up their lunch.
When we clearly have an entire society built on women constantly having to improve themselves, slim down, shape up, "get a beach gorgeous bod", slice themselves open, or starve themselves skeletal, forgive me if I don't really feel like MY GOD, we have come SUCH A LONG WAY!
I mean, I can vote, why should I still have a problem!
It makes me angry, that's why I rant. And I can't help but wonder if the people who are telling us to shut up and to enjoy the freedoms that we've got, are the same people that benefit from us keeping quiet.
The women who want us to shut up because "it's not that bad" benefit from being where they are: on top. They've fought and clawed their way to the top. They've battled the patriarchy and are sitting pretty. And what's that? A bunch of younger women complaining that it's not good enough? Saying that the women on top aren't high enough, and are busy clawing their way to your post - if not higher? My god! Why WOULDN'T they want us to shut up? We might prove them wrong, be better, perhaps even more liberated.
I think the most prevelant example of why things are a lot worse than they seem is in Courtney E Martin's book, Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters. She writes about how the women heard "you have to do everything" when our parent's told us "you can do anything". We are perfectionists, and really, I can't think of a single women I know who isn't.
They may not call themselves that, as the word "perfectionist" sounds almost as dirty as "feminist", but the things that are inside of me -never feeling good enough, desperate need for approval, fear of failing, self-hate, etc- manifest themselves in my daily life in the form of control and perfectionism.
The same traits, even if its just one, exist in many, many women. Too many. Dare I even say millions. They may manifest themselves in other women in different ways aside from perfectionism: eating disorders, depression, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, insomnia, "food issues", distorted body image, etc...Or, they may have all of the imaginable above. It just depends.
As Martin puts it, there's a "starving daughter" in far too many of us; the starving daughter that constantly, unforgivably, reminds us that we're not perfect:
"[We] are full of self doubt. We don't want to worry so much about making other people happy but feel like we can never say thank you enough times, never show enough humility, never help enough, never feel enough shame. We feel guilty. we fear conflict. We are dramatic, sensitive, injured easily. we are clinging to all kinds of attachments that , in our minds, we know we should let go of, but in our bodies, we feel incapable of relinquishing. We are self-pitying, sad, even depressed. We are tired of trying so hard all the time."
Does this hit uncomfortably home for anyone else?
Maybe my views on feminism and women are warped. Maybe I think I am more like other women than I really am. Maybe I am just in line with the fucked up few who feel like this, or partly like this...
But I highly doubt that I am. THIS is what is wrong with our society, and with the brilliant, talented, beautiful young women who EVERY DAY tell themselves that they aren't beautiful enough. Smart enough. Thin enough. Or perfect enough to be worthy for your love, praise, and attention.
The Guardian ran a piece a couple months ago called "We've never had it so good" where Louise Carpenter talked the women of today who are "unburdened by responsibility" and "are experiencing true economic, emotional and sexual freedom". Though she admits her research was "hardly scientific, nor was it socially or economically comprehensive, since I concentrated mainly on women with degrees" she quickly dismisses the impact that has on her findings: "nevertheless it revealed something quite startling".
The only thing I felt was "startling" about her findings were the women she interviewed that clearly lived in some sort of obscure fucked-up Candy Land.
She interviewed women who are all going to universities, all have between "£500 - £1,000" free spending money a month (because THAT'S so normal) and who clearly haven't slummed it any way shape or form at any point in their lives.
Are these the sort of women who are going to complain about the injustices in our society? Um, no. They're the perfect examples of why we shouldn't complain, and they have all the right answers to prove it:
"Intelligence and humour were considered overall more important than looks. They all articulated the importance of feeling sexy over looking sexy, although they made the connection between the two. All thought the size-zero issue was ridiculous and had only vaguely dieted (although none, interestingly, were above a size 12 and most were a 10). Cosmetic surgery was not seen as a real option although I got the impression 'work' for a few of them might at some stage incorporate Botox."
See? Perfect! Those are the girls who are "too good" to get eating disorders. They know better than that, right? One girl in the interview admitted to needing therapy halfway through college because the pressure go to be too much, but that was easily brushed over with more praise and statistics proving that girl power has prevailed, and that since all these women were doing so well, what's the point of feminism?
The more I read through this article the more the women she was interviewing sounded like the Stepford Girls:
"There's no doubt that there is now more pressure than ever to succeed,' il: 'At school and university, it was no longer enough to simply be academically successful.The twentysomething women I know aren't bothered about old-style feminism. We're not interested in trying to feel "empowered", partly because we see ourselves as equal to men now: we can work, vote, sleep around, all without anyone barely batting an eyelid."
REALLY? You can sleep around without anyone barely batting an eyelid? Who do you know? Where are these people? And what fucking drugs are you on??
I love the "we're not interested in feeling empowered" bit. I wonder why she feels that there is so much pressure on her, and what she does and thinks behind closed doors. Where does that pressure come from? Hmmmm sister? Probably just from yourself. And I wonder what she would say if she was asked if she thought her male counterparts had to work as hard as she did?
"In some ways that's liberating, but at the same time it's as if we've become suffocated by choice: we have nothing to complain about and nothing left to fight for. We don't have to get married to survive, and if we do we can get divorced if it doesn't work out how we hoped. Men now take a substantial share of domestic responsibility and much more of a role in child-rearing. My career choices as a woman starting out on the ladder are endless."
Yup! You're right. Everything is just PERFECT HERE. This girl has it all figured out. I'm just wondering what society it is that she lives in because I think that there are PLENTY of people that would disagree with her.
Oh, but then we have the statistics to show us that SEE? Women are doing so well! Never mind that we're fucking killing ourselves to get there, by god, just look at our dazzling statistics!
33 is the average age for women to get married. Twenty years ago, it was 26.
(Thank god. Marriage rots your brain.)
3x- likelihood of British men to commit suicide, as compared with women.
(Great! We're killing ourselves less! That's swell!)
26 is the average age for women to have children. In 1971 it was 23.
(Thank god. Babies rot your brain. Plus, who has time to have babies? You're too busy BEING PERFECT.)
40% of professional jobs in UK are held by women.
(FORTY??? FORTY PERCENT??? Yeah. That's definitely something TO FUCKING CELEBRATE. Way to look at the glass half full, bitch.)
20% of young women break the government's alcohol limits.
(Well thank god. There's nothing worse than young women drinking more than a pint of cider. They get out. of. control.)
Carpenter closes her article by saying, "The future is bright and it is female. Maybe it is the poor, confused young men we should be worried about."
She's just wrong on so many levels, it hurts me.
Maybe there is a group of delusional women *cough CAITLIN FLANAGAN cough* who wander around pretending that things are swell and we can do whatever we want whilst those other women of the world starve themselves, throw up their food, check themselves in and out of therapy, and continue to feel disgusted with themselves for not being perfect...but I'm sure as fuck not one of them.
And I doubt I'm alone on this one. The political IS the personal. If the US government chipping away at women's right to control their bodies doesn't scare you, it should. If you think the situation of "the blonde girl with big tits and a small IQ getting promoted before you" doesn't exist, think again. Because it sure as fuck does.
Abortion is a real issue. Body image is a real issue. Perfectionism and depression exist, and they don't just happen to weak, broken girls. Rape doesn't just happen in Darfur and in Lifetime movies.
You can continue to hide under your Kate Moss for Topshop dress and pretend it doesn't, and pretend that feminism is unneeded and unwanted, and continue to tell us that we don't have it that bad...
But while you're doing that, we'll continue to rant, and rage, and act, and write, and Bitch and Bust about it until you can't ignore us any more.
I am a young, privileged, white American woman. I am intelligent. I have a loving husband. I have a wonderful home. I have a family that loves me. I am beautiful. I am thin. I have and make my own money. I do what I love for a living...
I have a depressive disorder that I will carry the rest of my life. I have been sexually harassed. I have been emotionally abused. I have been in unhealthy relationships. In my short lifetime, I have made myself throw up food. I have a self-inflicted scar on my left wrist. I have been to therapy, and probably will go again in the future. I have body image issues. I have issues with food.
Because of all this, I know that feminism is important.
I know that from the outside looking in, I shouldn't have a worry in the world. But on the inside looking out, I feel my pain. I can see pain in other women.
And that is why I rage. Because I am beautiful, and I so want to believe that. I have to know that one day I can say that, and mean it. Mean every single letter. And until then, I will fight. And I will continue fighting until I know that every little girl and every young woman and every old woman can say it and mean it too.
If that's not something to fight for, I don't know what is.
I know there are some that believe that because I call certain types of women Gaping Vaginas, or Stupid, that I'm an insensitive hypocrite or a "bad feminist". That I'm putting down women by talking badly about certain types of women.
However, I'm actually quite a fan of women.
That is why I spend hours and hours of my life, every single day, examining "women's issues", trying to find positive examples for women; why I try to immerse myself in all things that promote healthy and empowering lifestyle choices for women.
Blindly telling people, "You go girl! You're empowered!" no matter what they do, isn't exactly being supportive of women. Do we all know what an enabler is?
Sometimes we need to criticize each other. We need to lift up the women who are kicking ass. The way we kick ass doesn't all have to look alike, but there need to be some major lifestyle and behavior choices that need to be axed. Ya know, like flashing your vagina to the world for a living, or weighing as much as a 4th-grader when you're a 25-year-old woman that stands at 5'10" for the sake of fashion.
Life is fucking hard. And its even harder when you're a women who allows herself to be bogged down by stereotypes, glass ceilings, and society's stupid ass rules.
To an extent, I think everyone, male or female is affected by such things.
However, aside from all of the frustrations from GVs and the women who seem to revel in their own self-indulgent, stereotyped-chaos...
There are some fabulous women out there who lead such empowering lifestyles that they just leave me in an awestruck state of appreciation, envy, and inspiration.
These women that just seem to be light years away from the place I'd like to be. In fact, they're so fabulous, that I the best way I know how to describe them sometimes is "put-together".
But what does "well put-together" mean?
For my own definition, it means many different things. I've always looked up to women who have a "set up". This may mean that they have a lot of accessories, a strong sense of style, a lot of handy-dandy-gadgets. That X-factor. When I was younger I probably envied one of my peers that had a well decorated binder, and a set of matching gel pens. (Remember them? Oh man. Gel Pens.)
It's not that I'm just in awe of women who have material things - it goes deeper than that.
If they have a moleskin journal obsession, it may not be just because they like to buy the most expensive journals, but because she's a writer, and she feels the most inspired to write when she has a quality notebook.
And the reason she has such an nice pen collection, is because she'll only write in black ink, and writes so much that she goes through pens like most go through chewing gum.
The women with the most eclectic accessories may not just be a fashionista, but owns so many different pieces of fantastic looking jewellery because she's a photographer who travels to the most exotic of locations, and has made a tradition of buying one piece of jewellery from every city she visits.
My own personal admiration of women who have lots of accessories, or a well organized, vintage handbag is because I believe it shows depth.
A story.
Having a crap load of lip glosses and a Nicole Richie inspired sunglasses collection may not exactly have a story to it, other than the fact that you're IRRITATING.
There are so many women, who just have these amazing stories, and endearing quirks, and talents:
They have cute glasses, and curly hair, and have an impeccable sense of style.
They bake. They create.
They speak French and make fucking furniture with their BARE HANDS.
They cook food and write about how it touches and fits into their lives about it so eloquently...
They start a blog, and then end up writing screen plays, and TV shows with Steven Spielberg.
These women, and women like them, are not people to be jealous of.
Why do we expend so much energy being jealous of "well put together women", when we could be inspired by them?
Why are we so quick to hate someone and be jealous of them, when we could just learn from them?
At the same time, I'm sure any of the women I've mentioned, and ones I haven't because they don't exactly have a link, may say, "Are you fucking kidding me? I don't 'have it together'."
From the outside looking in, perhaps most of us appear to have our shit together and be on the ball about stuff. Do I think I do?
Sort of.
I think I've got most of my 'internal shit' (literally, and not so literally) together: I understand my emotions very well. My relationship, my relationship with my family members and in-laws, my relationship with myself and my body image...These are all things that I've put as my top priority. I don't have any lurking demons in my emotional closets. Sure I have normal issues and a pain in the ass depressive disorder that I deal with on a pretty regular basis...
But I feel that since I've given all of that inside crap priority over everything else, I haven't really developed a lot of the other stuff that I want to...
And because I don't quite have all of the trimmings of the other women I see to be "put together", then I must not be.
Do I have moleskin journals?
Can I make a fucking table and chairs?
NoOoooOooo!
Is that a ridiculous thought?
Definitely.
Especially considering I know that nobody's happiness can be identical to someone else's.
But when I'm going through a stressed-out funk where I feel like I need more substance in my life, I start to compare and notice things about the other people I see who seem to have shit loads of substance in their life. And then I start to notice that, hey, they bake. They spend time doing projects for their home to increase how much they like being at home. They manage to buy incredible clothes for cheap. They can speak 3 languages...
Some of it is just me being too hard on myself.
But, then again, I think there are parts of that way of thinking that are positive, especially considering that, in the past, the idea of doing anything Houswife related or something that "women should do" gave me a small panic attack.
I seem to have grown up a bit.
And I don't think its a coincidence that most of the women I find myself so in awe of tend to have hobbies and do things that I, myself, am intimidated by. Is the reason I've made jokes about housewives and knitters in the past because they do something I can't? Probably. That's some of the reasoning behind it. I can admit that.
I can also admit that I'm trying to be a bit more open. Learn. Learn from other women. Listen. Take a risk and try something new, accepting that I may not be perfect at it. (**Blood curdling scream**)
I'm learning to be a better cupcake Cate, which, in turn, makes me a better woman.
So, I tip my hat to all of you fabulous women out there.
You scare me. You intimidate me.
Your hair is better than mine. (You bitch. Did I just say that? I didn't mean it. Swear. I didn't mean it.)
And the best part is, I don't hate you for it.
No jealousy here, ladies. Just admiration.
YOU GO, GIRL!!!!
This is THE! BEST! THING! I've seen in a very, very long time.
For those of you who are offended by words such as "Penis", or "Vagina", or people talking about sex in a very frank way...or phrases such as "they penis is on fire" I highly recommend that you do not watch this video.
Just don't do it. For your sake and mine.
However, if you'd like to embark on the journey that is the Alexyss Tylor Show, and enjoy her discussions about men, 'they penises', and her theories on women, sex and relationships...please turn up your volume (or put on headphones if you're at work), and press play.
It's magical.
*Gloriously discovered at Feministing.com
A mildly-wise man once said, "Opinions are like assholes, everybody's got one."
Perhaps this is why everyone is so scared of other people's opinions.
Assholes can be pretty scary.
However, this doesn't explain why people are petrified of sending back their Cowboy Burger at Applebees because it had a hair in it.
("Well, I could just eat around it. It was just one hair...and it was short.")
We all know that opinions are the sources of all international conflicts.
Religions, philosophies, morals, and beliefs all can be boiled down to naked opinions.
What I think, what you think. Neither one is technically wrong, but neither of us is technically right.
Life's a fucking bitch like that.
However, this doesn't mean that all of us just can't accept and respect that we have different opinions.
Why is that so fucking hard? Because you HAVE to be right?
I do not understand why despite the fact that we're in a day in age
where we're apparently free to be you and me, express ourselves, and
are given free outlets where we can blab and yack and rant all we
want...why are people still fucking breaking out in hives and telling us to SSSSHHHHUUUUSSSHHHH!!!! when we voice our opinions in their presence.
It's like, okay everyone...
You can be unique, tattooed and pierced all you want OUT THERE, but just don't bring it to the dinner table.
We love that you're opinionated, but could you please tone down that opinion column that we hired you to write? You're offending one of our sponsors.
I love that you're so honest and blunt about things...but just don't be like that when I ask you for advice, ok?
I respect your culture and think that it's beautiful, but just don't let me hear you speak your native language anywhere around me, ok? It's offensive because I can't understand you, and you might be saying something bad about me. And that's so not okay with me.
I'm totally okay with the fact that you're gay, and that you're the most happy you've ever been...but just don't rub it in my face. Like, I don't want to see it or talk about it. It creeps me out, but I'm totally supportive of you.
What the fuck is wrong with people?
Why is it okay to be different out in lala land, but why when it gets a little too close to home for people, they fucking flip out.
Is that not hypocritical? Is that not fucked?
I do not expect everyone to paint each other's toe nails, roast smores on clothes hangers together, and giggle politely at everyone else's opinions and lifestyle choices, as then I would have nothing to complain or write about (and a world where I have nothing to bitch about is a scary, scary place.)
However, I do think that it's pretty fucked up when the people in your life that claim to be supportive of you and love you but then get all bent out of shape when you say or do something in front of them that contradicts with the Virginal Candy Land Princess image they've have of you in their head.. Out of sight out of mind.
Sally, in front of Uncle Bill and Aunt Jen you are not a lesbian! This is just your special pal from college! We talked about this!
I am aware of the fact that a lot of people of smaller IQ lesser maturity like to run around desperately trying to let everyone know how fucking smart and unique they are.
I'm different! I'm angry! I'm rebelling! See? See me? I'm unreasonably unruly! I defy the rules! I'm a rule breaking maniac!!
(Why don't you just throw on a neck tie and a wifebeater and wear tube socks on your arms and run around a mall just so everyone knows what a unique rebel you are.)
More often than not, this is just rude. And even more often than not, people are just going to think you're a douche bag, not an incredibly intelligent rebel.
It's one thing to be honest and give your opinion, and just be who you are
...Its completely different to go out of your way just to test people, forcefully spew your opinionated diarrhea all over your friends, family, co-workers, and well, anyone who makes the unfortunate accident of making eye contact with you.
And if they don't like it, well FUCK them. They just don't GET YOU. They're just ignorant. Hella ignorant.
Things such as tact, manners, and etiquette seem to be incredibly underrated lately. Etiquette and manners do not just consist of which fork to use and minding your "Please" and "Thank You"s.
Knowing how and when to state your opinion is incredibly important.
Yes, you and every other asshole out there has the right to your own opinion.
Example: Rosie O'Donnell is probably one of the most infuriating women
in the world, but she unfortunately has the right to state her opinion...
But just saying whatever you want, whenever you want is annoying as shit.
People often think that using the disclaimer "This is just my opinion" frees them from the consequences of "just their opinion" offending anyone, and pissing people off.
("What? Why are you mad!?! It's JUST MY OPINION!!?!?!")
Just as saying, "I don't mean to be rude" or "I really hate to hurt your feelings and be a bitch BUT-" is a load of bullshit. You obviously know that you're being rude and if you really didn't meant to be rude, you would just shut the fuck up. And if you really didn't want to hurt someone's feelings, then you wouldn't say anything.
(And for the record, saying, "I'm sorry you feel that way" in apology is a load of shit. You're SORRY I feel the way I do? That's not an apology. Saying, "I'm an asshole for hurting your feelings, I'm sorry I hurt you." IS an apology. Jaysus!)
Look, I understand and appreciate that people are not going to love, accept, and respect everything that I do.
Duh.
However, what I don't appreciate is people who say that they're here for me, love, and support me, but then shit themselves when I open my mouth and am honest.
Don't say that you think it's great that I'm opinionated and love my views on things, and then turn around and ask me to not make waves.
Don't say that you think I'm strong and independent, and then not understand why you can't pin me down.
Don't say that you appreciate how honest, and straightforward I am, and then try to make me feel bad for giving you my honest opinion when you ask for advice.
I'm sorry that you'd like to have only bits and pieces of me at a time.
But it doesn't work that way.
I never promised to feed cupcakes while I called you on your bullshit.
I never said that I would decorate my honesty with gum drops.
Real friends shouldn't have to serve their love drizzled with maple syrup. If it's real, its sweet enough on its own. It's not always fun and its certainly not always easy...but why can't you just have it the way it is?
I'm not saying that you have to either love it or leave it...
I don't even think that you need to agree with my opinion.
I just need you to not tell me to SHHHHH through a clenched smile, and jab me in the ribs if I speak up.
Do not try to counteract my opinion with some bullshit excuse and try to erase what I said, and say that I'm wrong.
How can you call advice wrong? It's what I think. That's what advice is!?
ad·vice [ad-vahys] –noun
1. an opinion or recommendation offered as a guide to action, conduct, etc.: I shall act on your advice.
My opinion and advice in itself cannot be wrong. Out of all the advice you've received,you can assess mine as being the wrong advice for that situation, the wrong advice for you. But alone, it's not wrong, it's my opinion.
Why does my voice make you uncomfortable?
Why is it that some people just want you to keep quiet. Keep the peace. No matter what. Don't rock the boat, sit still. Just enjoy the fucking view and shut up, right?
Calm down. Let it go.
Please? For me? Just don't say anything?
While some stuff does need to just be let go...there are also times when you absolutely must speak up.
And in those times, who's right is it to ask for your silence?
To me, that shows distrust. That shows embarrassment. It shows shame. Weakness.
Just because I say something, why do you think that reflects badly on you?
Because you're supposed to be able to control me? Like I'm your responsibility? Like it was your job to have tamed the shrew...and they can't understand why I'm talking?
I'm a grown ass woman. I understand the consequences of stating my opinion.
But do you understand the consequences of your silence?
If little girls are to be seen and not heard....
...Then I am what happens when the 'little girls' grown up.
(We get therapists, turn our lives upside down, and then write about it in blogs...duh.)
Inspired by Ruthypants, I've gotten down with the poem writing, lately. If you have bongos, feel free to bust them out now.
*(Not to be confused with Ogres are like Onions.)
A flaky outside peels away to a thick sphere of layers.
Some people like theirs cut up to chew in small doses.
Some need theirs cooked and softened...
Some like 'em grilled
Some can even take them raw.
Some eat 'em with a knife and fork
Some can eat 'em bare handed
The stronger ones will make you cry
leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
Some love them, some hate them.
Some just eat around them...
I bite right through.
*snaps*
I've decided I'm going to go live in a bubble.
Or rather, a big Martini glass, with a bubble over it.
I'll have wireless internet, and a door to receive food.
The food consisting strictly of...
-Ranch Dressing
-Stuffed Crust, Extra Cheese, Extra Pineapple, Zucchini, with Ranch instead of Tomoato Sauce pizza from Roundtable
(And for me, they WILL DELIVER INTERNATIONALLY)
I'd like an email filter to not only block junk mail, but to prevent "Asshole Mail", and "Nit Picky, Bullshitting, Naggy Ass" emails, as well.
-Chicken Korma and pashwari naan-Grilled Cheese Sandwiches from Mel's Diner
-Heinz Baked Beans
-The Red Baron cheesy garlic bread they used to sell in my high school's cafeteria (Word to LCHS)
-Heinz Ketchup and Best Foods Mayo
-Mexican Food cooked personally by Bonita.
-Miracle Dietary Supplement to prevent arteries from clogging
I'm thinking this Martini Glass encased in a Bubble will also include a queen size, canopy bed, and a secret code that only very few, like 3 people, know so they can come hang out...and a heated toilet that magically cleans itself.
I want a plasma screen TV that doesn't allow any shows with Paris Hilton or Rosie O'Donnell to be played, and willl filter out the Girls Gone Wild commercials. Did I mention Tivo? Did I mention I'd like Grey's Anatomy and Bridezillas to be playing all day, everyday?
But most importantly, I'd like my new home to have a sniper rifle with a super, international, intergalactic scope so I can shoot "STOP BEING SUCH A TWAT" bullets (okay, maybe not bullets, but paint balls) at every single person who has been pissing me off lately.
I've got the fucking rage, lately. RAGE.
I've got sickness, a raw nose, and a heavy-flow menstrual cycle...I'm ANNOYED.
Look, I generally try to channel my rage and pissed off-ness into a more intellectual, and intelligent way of expression...But today...Not going to happen.
I really don't want to rant and bitch...but...
Fucking hell!
I was thinking about THIS post, and just things and conversations and moments in my own personal life as of late..and I just don't understand why people get so fucking crazy when good things happen to other people?
Why do I know and have an uncountable number of women in my life that are so ridiculously insecure, unstable, paranoid, easily threatened, easily put on the defensive, envious, jealous, and so maliciously conniving?
I wonder why people let each other go so easily. Why is it so hard to admit fault? Why is it so hard for some to put up a fight, and admit that they're vulnerable, and have made a mistake?
Why do people need to lie and make excuses for themselves before apologizing and admitting even a granule of fault?
Why is there this overwhelming need for attention and dramatics that some people are so demented and self obsessed that they really do believe that the world revolves around them? Like the world is one big, fat conspiracy to maliciously bring down their life?
YOUR life that just seems to be this perpetual orgy of deprivation**?
Why do people just walk away? Give up?.
Why don't people don't fight more? And I'm not talking domestic squabbly bullshitty fights...
I mean, those "take a deep hard look at yourself during an emotional battle" kind of fight.
Those awkward, uncomfortable, heated fights between yourself and your friends.
That "make it or break it" conversation with a family member.
Your children.
My dad.
Your mother.
Why don't people care enough to fight?
Why don't you have enough passion in you to fight for me?
Am I really that disposable?
Are people really that blind to their own actions? Why is it when a mirror is thrown up in their view, a mirror to question and present their faults....
People run. Deny. Lie. Dismiss. Avoid...Anything but look. Anything by think.
They can't believe you would say or would think such things about them. It's not just MY fault.You did, this. You did, that.
Make a big show, a distraction, throw insults.
You? No. Never.
That's all I ever get from people, if that.
Sometimes people just disappear. Not wanting to fight. Not wanting to discuss.
I will not accept blame that manifests itself purely to lighten the burden of your guilt.
I will not apologize so you can feel better, knowing that I've apologized and therefore must have done something wrong, making the problem not JUST you.
Where's the passion?
Why didn't you have enough passion to fight for me?
And don't just fight for me as a possession, or as a cure for your solitude...
I have lost and given up on so many people lately. Cut you out. Cut you off. Peace.
That is what far too many of my supposed friendships and relationships have dwindled down to lately...
That doesn't mean that I give up easy. I fight. I will fight all fucking night if I need to.
One of these days you'll get to hear the story of how on our "last night" in London together Iain and I fought with two of our - now former - friends from 1am to 10:00am the next morning. Non-stop.
If you shut down, throw up your hands, and throw down the cop-out of "Well then I guess you're right! You're right about everything!" and walk away...
It takes every bone in my body not to run up, jump on your back, and scream in your ear "FUCKING TALK TO ME" until I get you to talk.
I'm not always a fighter. I know when to shut-up. I know when there's no battle to be fought, or won, and when to just do my own thing while an army battles an invisible foe.
I know when I've lost. I know when I can't win.
But it seems that people always just let me go.
Really, I do know it's me letting them go. Letting go of the relationship or friendship we had that existed purely on my own efforts. When I stop putting forth the effort, there is no effort to be seen, therefore it's easy to say that because I am the only factor in this relationship that has shifted their behavior, that I am to blame for the ultimate change.
Never mind that you never tried, anyway. I stopped, therefore, it's my fault.
If you really loved me like your daughter. Like your best friend. Like your "sister"...
And I came to you, laid out my honest emotions, and vulnerable opinions as to WHY there is a rift in our relationship...
Wouldn't you STOP? Wouldn't you THINK? Wouldn't you want to rebuild? Fix, clear out the wound, and THEN bandage it up?
I will not smooth something over for the sake of keeping the peace.
I am never neutral. If I am, it's because I don't know enough about something to have an opinion either way...
Politics? Fuck if I know.
Real friendship, real love, real family? That I know.
Maybe it's a curse that I know these things too well. Maybe I understand TOO much about myself. Maybe I have been hurt too deeply in the past, and know all too well what a red flag looks like.
Maybe I know too well what a toxic friend, lover, or parent looks like.
Maybe other people don't lose their "childhood best friend" and their father in the same month.
Maybe other people don't have family members they once looked up to, not acknowledge their wedding.
Maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm bitter...Or maybe my eyes are just too open.
I don't understand how a friend that I had for such a long time...A girl that watched me grow up. A girl who I held after her break ups, stood up for when she was judged, and put nothing before...
The girl that was there for my first Frappuccino, my short red hair, my high school musicals and the hours and hours of Christina Aguilera karaoke...
How could you just cower and run when I called you on your bullshit?
Would it have been so difficult to just LISTEN to what I had to say? Is it really that UNIMAGINABLE that you could be possibly be... WRONG? (*gasp*cough*panic attack*)
Let's see...
I go back home for the first time in 6 months for 3 weeks, didn't have a car, and live 20 miles away from you...
And you're too busy doing school projects, going to sorority meetings and working at your part time job to somehow find time over 21 days to DRIVE to come see me? Even ONCE?
I ask when you're free to go to lunch, and I get a god damn SCHEDULE of your life in return. Good to see there's a small window between 4 and 5:30 for me to hitch-hike it up the Freeway just in time to catch you before your yoga class...Fuck, I'm sorry that you'll have to give up your nail appointment in order to meet up...The SACRIFICES you make!
Amazing that after THREE MONTHS of silence, the first form of contact comes in an email from you asking, "We're no longer friends on Myspace?!"
Seriously?
And you still don't understand why I didn't exactly accept your "sincere congratulations on your marriage" that was embedded in between your cold, Psychology 101 mid-term essay style response to my "Are you KIDDING ME?" email?
How do you then, justify cutting someone out of your life and ending a 7 year friendship with a curt, 4 line email that ends with a simple "Good bye".
Perhaps I should have known this would happen. Maybe I'm at fault for thinking that she had grown up enough to finally be able to handle my "grown-up" issues and adult life.
When I told her about my fiance visa, and she asked me if I could CHARGE THINGS ON MY FIANCEE VISA I should have known to run away. (GV Alert! GV Alert!)
How could I really expect a self-obsessed 21 year old to really be able to grasp hold and appreciate and understand my battle with depression and therapy? (Yes, I see the irony here...)
I should have known that her ego's capabilities don't include owning up to fault and making mistakes. Maybe I should have realized years ago that she had already let me go...
Maybe I should have realized my time to let go was long over due...
I would not trade a single failed relationship for the precious, few, genuine ones I have now. There's the old saying of, "If you love someone, set them free" and hopefully, if it's true love, they'll come back.
I've loved friends, family, and boys.
They have wronged me, or I've been blind to the true conditions of our relationship...
So I have stopped trying. Stopped calling. Stopped kissing.
I've been met with silence.
I've been met with hate.
I've been abandoned, and left alone.
All the better. All the wiser. But all the more bruised.
My high expectations of others is my fault, and my burden that fuels my depression and worst moments.
It can be found in every relationship, friendship, and downfall of my life.
I have extremely high expectations of myself. My imperfections are not handled perfectly enough.
...And that is why I want to live in my own little bubble today.
I think that there is always some sort of bubble around me. A defence mechanism I choose not to put up. This bubble, this armour, that I keep hidden until I've been so beaten down that I have no choice but to lash out and put it up.
I can be a push-over sometimes. As cynical as I can be, I still like to believe in the best in people. Not that they're perfect, but that they'll rise to the occasion when there's a conflict.
Rifts and conflicts will naturally arise in relationships and friendships as they progress.
It happens.
Some people are toxic lost causes that we don't need in our life. Some are just leeches that like to suck the joy out of our successes and latch on for the ride, seeing how far they can get themselves while "drafting" behind our lead..
Recognize those moments where you need to fight, instead of flee.
But never underestimate how euphoric and empowering having a small circle of true, genuine supporters can feel.
To my own, humble circle...Thank you.
Y'all can totally have the secret code to my bubble.
* * I totally jacked this line from "On Beauty" by Zora Smith
Alright. So I've been tagged by Idle, LeendaDLL & TheBitterLinguist...
I'm more of a "hide & seek" girl, but I shall play a long this once.
Well, kind of. But only because this little "5 things" quiz plays right into the next post I had in the works, so we'll retitle it the:
"5 things or more you probably didn't know about me that I will indirectly explain in the following post".
I say that counts.
So, you may have noticed I write a lot about the stupid things that girls do.
**everyone rolls eyes and groans**
The stupidity of women/girls in relationships and in their general behavior makes me want to pull out my hair. It drives me fucking nuts.
For fuck sake, I've pretty much based an entire blog on analysing and picking apart idiotic behavior.
I'm not just a judgemental wench that thinks she knows everything because she has a Psychology degree.
(Because I don't. I ain't got no proper skoolin'.)
And I don't think I'm a relationship expert or "know men" because I own all the seasons of Sex and the City have read He's Just Not That Into You, or am married.
I don't just observe these behaviors and let them get me all up in a tizzy because I just "don't understand" them.
It goes back to the whole childish "takes one to know one" comeback.
Idiotic, self destructive, blind, foolish, naive female behavior, urks me to my very core because I used to be the dumbest smart girl in the world.
Okay, maybe not the world, but certainly in my apartment complex.
I used to be a cell phone checking, Myspace hacking, paranoid, jealous, insecure, naive, blinded by "love" TWAT.
Or, very much like some of you out there, I assume.
Look, I know why you're making excuses for your boyfriend. Why you're unhappy. Why you feel that way. Why you're always fighting. Why you pretend. Why you lie. Why you want to stay with him. Why you check his phone. Why you check his Myspace. I understand why you hate it when his Ex calls. I understand even MORE why you pretend it's not that big of a deal. I understand why you beat yourself up over it. Why you pass it off as you being "jealous",
I was in an incredibly unhealthy, psychologically destructive relationship for over 2 years. I let myself be lied to, cheated on, passive aggressively manipulated and lead on. I let my personal progress to better my physical and mental health be sabotaged.
I was THIS CLOSE to letting this life that I write about, and this love that I have found NEVER HAPPEN.
The behavior and excuses and stupidity that I cannot stand, used to be my way of thought, and way of life.
Now, being on the 'not so stupid' side of that and being in a truly healthy, loving relationship not only with myself, but with my partner...It disgusts me how complacent and foolish other women/girls are with their mental stability, heart, and body in relationships.
Why is "being psycho and jealous" so ACCEPTED by us?
Acting like a crazy ass? It's okay! Your BFF feels the same way. "Dude, I'm totally psycho, too!" so you just brush it off. You're justified acting that way. Jealousy is normal. You're just insecure. "I just need to get over it, and then we'll be perfect."
Um, you couldn't be more wrong.
Well, yes, you're wrong and really need to stop torturing yourself and exhausting your precious energy by being a double agent with your boyfriend...However, you're not just "insecure" or "being psycho".
There's a reason behind all of that.
And the fact that you're crying all the time, fighting, and acting like god damn Sidney Bristow and checking your lover's cell phone the minute he steps into the shower should be a RED FUCKING FLAG to you.
RED FLAG. RED FLAG. RED FUCKING FLAG.
That's not normal. That's not healthy.
Look, we all know what I'm talking about. And it's one thing to Google his Ex's name or refer to her as "The Life Sucking Vortex of Death"...It's completely different to be hacking into his Myspace account while he's at working or ripping open his cell phone bill the minute it comes in the mail, comparing dates and times he said he was "at lunch" or at his best friend's house.
Yeah. Again, RED FLAG.
..So....
Basically, I was in a relationship for over 2 years with this guy named, uh, we'll call him Spencer. (Because I hate that name.) I loved him. I had a promise ring. We moved in together after 3 months. He bought me a dog. My family seemed to really like him. We talked about getting married. His friends all loved me.
This is what everything appeared to be like, and these are the reasons I thought we would be together forever and ever.
The reality was...
Spencer had cheated on every single one of his girlfriends, and had a very slutty, concerning past. When we met he still had a girlfriend, and I was his excuse for finally dumping her. He refused to stop talking to her until a year and a half into our relationship. The entire time we were together, he still talked to the girl he had cheated on his ex with, and refused to stop. Flat out REFUSED. Even after I saw a text from him to her that said "Why didn't it work out between us?"
Never mind all of the other girls that were just "his friends" that he had either gone out with, slept with, or at one point had a crush on.
He never wanted to go out, and lived on the Xbox. I'd sit for hours and hours alone while he'd play games online, or read, or play Halo. He'd secretly text and always make a phone call if I took a nap or went out. He'd check out and stare at waitresses and other women directly in front of me and claim, "What, I'm a guy?!" or "Oh, I thought I knew her from somewhere."
And that brings us to the other problem. Spencer was a sex addict.
That doesn't mean that he had a really high sex drive, liked to have sex a lot, or was just a very sexual person. The BBC gives a pretty good explanation of it: "A sex addict feels compelled to seek out and engage in sexual behaviour, in spite of the problems it may cause in their personal, social and work lives."
In Spencer's case, this manifested in a number of ways, but mainly in his addiction to Internet Pornography.
Before I go any further, I just want to clarify that I'm not writing this to damage Spencer. There are only a few people who may even know who I'm talking about, but, I write this because I hope it might help someone else.
When I went through this, I was very alienated, and very, very alone until I got help for myself....and even then, I didn't tell my therapist for 5 months about this problem that I was dealing with because it was that embarrassing, and that difficult to speak out.
Plus, this is not really talked about.
It's been on Dr.Phil once.
There are many religious websites reaching out to sex addicts, claiming they can help them find Jesus and cleanse them of the "sin and shame".
There are books about sex addicts, that only briefly touch on addiction to Internet porn.
Maybe things have changed in the past couple years....But when I was going through this, I didn't get any support.
So. He was addicted to Internet pornography and refused, and even lied about getting help.
His sexual addiction problems, along with many other problems, were the main reason for his inability to stay faithful to any one of his girlfriends.
His favorite line upon breaking up is always, "You're the only girl I never cheated on."
Oh. Then I guess I must be super special, huh? "Special" enough to believe that crock of shit.
It was also the reason he couldn't cut ties with girls he had inappropriate relationships with, because that would be getting rid of a potential fuck buddy, or sexual escapade, or source of flirtatious banter.
He couldn't help but stare at women because MY GOD. There were tits and ass in his view, so it must be looked at. And it's not just "I'm just looking"...It was "I'm looking, and I'm also wondering what she'd be like in bed."
There is a difference between this, and a healthy, normal way of looking at other women. This alone did not make him a sex addict. Just like occasionally looking at porn can be healthy and normal. But his habits with it were very, very unhealthy and destructive.
At first it didn't bother me. It was fine. He was a guy. Guys do that.
However, I started checking his computer more and more, because I noticed that EVERY time I'd use his computer to check my mail, "hotXXXMILFS" popped up right along side "hotmail.com"....
I started noticing that every time we were apart, even every HOUR we were apart he would be looking at porn.
Even right before I would come over.
So, I told him it made me uncomfortable, especially when our sex life was so, um, quiet.
So he said he'd do it less often.
Less often....
It got to the point where the "less often" would be every single morning, while I was at the grocery store, while I was at work, or WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER.
I FLIPPED OUT the day he didn't have time to come see me at my work before he left for the day, because he had spent 2 hours looking at porn.
I had become a detective. A crazed, obsessed, psycho detective that knew every way to check what he'd been looking at. What time. What he said he was doing.
I told him it needed to stop....And it seemed to....But mostly because I stopped checking.
But then I found out he'd just been using Netscape instead of Internet Explorer for the past 3 months.
I would cancel plans with friends just so I could be home by the time he was home. I would leave my mom's house to be there the minute he walked in the door. I would lie to switch my work schedule around just so I could be home, babysitting, making sure he didn't "fuck up" and look at porn. If we did have to be apart, I couldn't think about anything else. I'd text him just to make sure he wasn't too preoccupied to text me back. The panic and anxiety I felt leaving him home by himself was crippling.
Who was he talking to? What was he doing? Was he looking at porn? Wacking off? Talking to his ex? Is he even really at home???
I tried being patient. I tried not getting mad at him. I tried yelling at him. I tried sobbing. I tried not looking...But....
I was always the bad guy. I was always a "snoop" or he felt like he was "being spied on in my own home".
And he was. But I wasn't wrong.
I was wrong for staying and making everything be okay at all costs just so I could still be with him...
But HE was WRONG.
Add on top of this disturbing addiction everything I had mentioned above....Me constantly checking his cell phone to find messages from his ex girlfriends and ex mistresses..."I miss you" or "How are you Sweetheart?"...Add on top of that we didn't have a sex life...Add on top of that I felt ugly, and fat, and insecure, and insane, and jealous, and CRAZY because it would always, ALWAYS make me out to the be the snoopy, insecure, jealous girlfriend who was feeling the way I did for NO REASON.
"WHY DON'T YOU TRUST ME??'
Every. Single. Day. I would throw myself into a whirlwind of guilt, and depression, and self doubt, and shame...And then try to pick myself back up again and be a loving, forgiving, proper girlfriend.
By this time my depression (that I didn't really know I suffered from) had caused me to call a therapist. I had never been to therapy, but knew that I needed help.
I felt empty. I felt insane, because of Spencer's passive aggressive manipulation, addiction, and lies.
At this time, I didn't know about sexual addiction. I didn't know all I do now, about psychology and my depression, and or even about myself.
After about 5 months of therapy, I opened up and explained how my relationship was REALLY. The porn, the texts, the confusion, and the blame....
I didn't want to tell my therapist for so long, because I knew she would "make me" break up with him....
I already knew it. I already knew, deep down, that it would never work. And that I wasn't wrong or crazy...
But god I wanted to get married. I wanted to live happily ever after with our dog. I just wanted him to love me back.
I wanted him to love me enough to stop talking to those girls. Love me
enough to stop with the porn, and find me attractive enough to sleep
with.
Love me. Make me worthy of your love. Why am I not good enough for that?
....And for the whole 2 years that we were together that I had it completely wrong.
He wasn't worthy enough for my love.
I confronted him one night, and said that if he had a problem. He was addicted to porn. And if he didn't get help.
That I would leave.
Amazingly, he said that he would go. He would go to therapy to get help.
I was relieved, and was so pleased that everything could be perfect, now. I was so surprised that he had agreed, and so easily understood that he needed to get help.
He even put the books on sexual addiction in his car, and said that he would read them on his lunch breaks.
The next day he made an appointment, and said that he had found a male doctor that would see him, and talk to him about it.
He went to the appointment one day while I was at work.
He went to his next appointment "on his way to work".
He said the doctor was really nice, and that they talked about his mom's control issues and that his therapist was going on vacation for three weeks and couldn't see him again until he got back.
After three weeks, Spencer didn't think he needed to go back because he got "control" of everything.
It never occurred to me that he was lying. Or that I never knew the name of his doctor. Or where the office was. Or what time his appointments were..
During the next 4 months of my own therapy, I had learned how blind I had been. How self destructive, and horrible I had been to MYSELF.
It got to the point where I realized that Spencer "not being able to keep the dog in the bedroom" long enough for her to leave me alone while I was in the living room trying to do yoga (as part of de-stressing and lifting my depression) wasn't just him being lazy. It was just one of the many ways he tried to subconsciously sabotage me getting better.
Because all the while I was going to the gym to heighten my endorphins and feel better about my body, and started to feel less depressed...I started to question him.
I was getting better....And me getting better, meant that I could see beyond his bullshit.
Cate not sick, meant Cate no longer ignoring the fact that your texting your "friend from work" while we're "on a date".
I realized I couldn't have the person who was supposed to "love me for the rest of my life" refuse to STOP talking to his ex mistress. Or make me feel horrible and disgusting for being upset that he had one of his ex girlfriend's bras hidden in our closet.
Realizing all of the lies and sabotage is very shocking. Once you SEE and SMELL and WAKE UP from the dozy, dramatic coma that is an unhealthy relationship...you realize and can see just how ugly everything really was.
For example, I never went out with my friends. So, one night, right before our 2 year anniversary I went out to one of my friend's barbecues. I brought Starbucks ice cream and got all dolled up for a night with the girls.
Then, 2 hours into the BBQ I check my phone, and I have 10 missed calls from Spencer.
He was at the pet hospital with Bug, because she "somehow got into something" and mysteriously wouldn't stop throwing up.
Now, in retrospect, I wonder what the fuck must have happened to my poor, 12 week old puppy to have let her get so sick she had to be taken to the pet hospital and be pumped with liquids just so she didn't get dehydrated.
I hate to think the worst. I hate to think he was "preoccupied" and let her get into something....or that she was allowed to get into something so that I would have to come home....
Spencer had an awful childhood, and troubled adolescence. He had demons that were larger than mine.
And the worst part, is that he didn't even acknowledge it.
He picked his fear of therapy and getting better, over me.
I screamed and sobbed and yelled until I was so exhausted I couldn't yell any more for a week straight.
I would plead, "Don't you realize that I will walk out of here? That I will take our dog and leave? That you will LOSE ME if you do not suck it up and go get some help for yourself???"
He said he was was too scared. He wasn't ready to get better.
The choices were to either stay with him, and be his therapist, and deal with his bullshit...Or leave.
And so, one afternoon, after having my first panic attack in my therapist's office, I came home and said that I was leaving...
The first thing out of his mouth was, "You mean I have to be alone?"
...Which pretty much summed up why he was with me, I guess. It was better than being alone.
But, it turned out he wasn't exactly alone. He had already started a relationship with a woman 11 years older than him. A woman he worked with. A woman I had met, and was always so nice to me. A woman I was, strangely, always suspicious of.
"...You're really the only girl I've never cheated on."
Sure.
...So.
While I have aquired quite a bit of knowledge in the psychological, emotional, and relationship departments through a slightly more unique way than most...The point is, that I have been there.
That is why these red flags seem so much more obvious to me.
That is why I am so enraged by these "stupid girls" and even girls I know that come to me and ask for relationship advice, and then don't even fucking listen to me.
It's so difficult for me to be a good listener, and not preach at both men and women who talk to me about their troubled relationships, yet don't want to hear the honest truth.
I just wish women would dig deeper, and examine WHY they're checking their boyfriend's phone/Myspace/email, and not be so afraid of breaking up and WAKING UP.
I don't hate these GVs, and women, friends,and men who are still blinded to the truths of unhealthy relationships, as that would make me no better than preachy, judgemental "Christians" who hate simply because they know that they're "right" and you're "wrong".
I just feel for them. I feel for myself when I think of all of the rage, and misery I put myself through almost 3 years ago.
This is a huge part of why I care so much about "women's issues" and topics about women in relationships.
I've been in relationship hell. I've been emotionally abused.
And I've gotten out. And grown. And blossomed.
I'm not a therapist. I'm not "Dear Abby".
I've just lived it
Hi y'all!
Really, I'll have a less "fluffy" post tomorrow...But until then I'm swimming in the excitement and glory or personalized banners and VOX GROUPS.
I started my own little group here: The Anti GV Movement.
I've sent out some invites, but it's hard to know who is who without your cute little pictures next to your name....
It's public, whoever would like to join is welcome! Any posts or photos you have that are relevant, no matter how far back they go in your archives, add it to the group!
Wooop!
Two Thousand and Six.
You kicked my ass. In a good way. You kicked it all the way to England, all over downtown LA, and then back to England again.
You gave me good sex, travel, and a bunch of different cocktails I'd never tasted before. (Hello WooWoo.)
I quit smoking with you, ate duck, Thai, and Curry for the first time.
(And it is because of this, 2006, that you have also helped me fit into a UK size 12, and showed me what I would look like with a full, plump ass. It was fun at first, but really, couldn't you have taken it with you when you left last night?)
You gave me a Kingdom, and the Eleventh of January.
I became a writer this year, a real one, because I finally let myself be one.
In 2006, my bank account was empty by July 3. I have made the least amount of money I've ever made since I've been able to work, and haven't been unemployed for so long since I was a student.
So, while I cannot lie and say I'd like to stay here forever, you'll go down as the best year yet.
By Christmas, I thought I had had enough lessons, and tests to call the year complete.
I have lost many people this year. None to death, but our friendships and relationships have died.
I have said goodbye, well, okay...I've said FUCK OFF to enough people this year, I'm sure I've set a "Getting Rid of Those in Your Life Who Are Worthless and Incredibly Stupid" record somewhere. Although, I've probably set it for the UK, and they'd strip me of my title because I'm a measly immigrant who is not worthy.
I've had to grow some big kahuna balls. Big, leathery ones that are built to endure long, Transatlantic flights, English Winters, and the disapproval of many English Women, Bay Area Yuppy Family Members, and Girls That Want To Throw Me A Hindu.
They've done me well, these balls. I've done a lot this year. And in return I get them regularly waxed, and buffed.
However, this past week I feel I need to get them bronzed or encrusted in Swarovski Crystals....
I've said goodbye to my dad.
He is alive, in California...probably at work, or maybe down at the gym. Or maybe spending time with his current girlfriend...I'm not sure.
I never really wanted to talk about my relationship with my dad, on here. Or anywhere. I always said if I did write a book, I would leave him out.
But, I don't see how I can just not mention it. It's like showing only a fraction of a "Before" picture and expecting the "After" to be appreciated and understood.
So, my dad.
My dad, is not a parent. He is a "parent", but title and definition, but a real farther and responsible adult, he is not.
My parents have been divorced for almost nine years.
In those nine years, I learned to see my parents as human.
As human beings who sometimes falter. Who make mistakes. Who love, Who get their heartbroken. Who fall.
And my dad, has fallen more times that he has chosen to get up.
He has chosen to be angry and resentful, more times than he has tried to be an hopeful.
And he has been an adult with no sense of parental responsibility, who has let his children suffer from his lack of effort towards being a father, a dad, and a protector and provider of his family...no matter what a "family" looks like.
When my parents got divorced, I always remember watching the movie Mrs.Doubtfire, where Robin Williams would do anything, and everything, just to be with his children.
I think it's at the end, where custody is taken away from him, that he looks at the judge and says, "But they're my kids...They're my air, without them...I can't breathe."
Sure, I didn't expect my Dad to cross-dress and pretend to be our nanny (like we ever had nannies growing up...) but just...
I always wanted to be Daddy's Little Girl.
We used to sing together. When I was 7, he played guitar while I sang Sunrise, Sunset at my Aunt and Uncle's Wedding.
I used to want to be a country singer, and he'd play the guitar while I butchered many Shania Twain and Patsy Cline songs, with my preteen voice.
I used to think I got my sense of humor from him, my voice...More than just my nose and my cheeks.
But he never let me be a Little Girl...
I was given the weight of the discontent he felt with himself, and his life, and with me, simply because I did not worship him.
I saw his mistakes. I saw his anger, his immaturity, his lack of responsibility. But worst of all, I saw his lack of interest in taking care of me.
All I ever wanted from him was effort...For him to try.
For me to be worthy of an unconditional love. For me to be enough, just the way I was, and for him to want to be a better father, and man to himself.
I wanted him to call me everyday, and to maybe want us two weekends in a row. Maybe he'd stop by one of my softball practices and surprise me.
The older I got, the more decisions I wanted to make for myself, the worse of a daughter I became in his eyes. I never did enough to prove that I loved him. I never called enough for him to believe that I was happy to be his daughter...Or that I missed him.
I never showed enough appreciation for the "sacrifices he made" as a parent.
I was always guilty. Always wrong. Always lacking something.
I wanted to see him less and less, for every time I did see him I was on eggshells, trying to not piss him off, have him bring up my mom, or tell us how "down" he was feeling lately.
I don't want to go through every story of pain, or emotional abuse, the times he'd hang up on me, or leave me crying...
I don't want to write about the Christmases I had to legally spend with him, crying myself to sleep because I knew my mom was home on Christmas alone, and I just wanted to be with her.
I don't want to dwell in his anger. The fear I felt when he lost his temper. The constant guilt I was made to feel that he was alone.
I cannot describe my anger and disgust with the fact that he was unemployed for over a year, because he was too scared to look for another job. The back pay in child support that he still owes.
I am disgusted at his lack or respect for his role as an adult. The lack of respect he has for himself.
The lack of respect he has his role as a father.
I have step father, who in the past 3 years in my life has shown me what it means to be a father. He may not be perfect, and didn't raise me. But he has provided me with love, and security when I needed it. He is always there, and has been there whenever I've needed him. He is there, when I do not need anything, but simply want to watch TV with him and have a beer. He has healed and taken care of my mother, and is a good husband. My sister and him do not get along perfectly, but he has given her support in ways I don't' think she can quite grasp yet, at her young, selfish age.
That is more than my father has given me....because he has made the unconscious decision to revel in his own dispair, fear, and depression.
He doesn't have house for us to visit him in, as he blames his ex-girlfriend (who was like second mom to us) for breaking up with him and taking away money, that was never his.
He has not accepted responsibility for us, or more specifically the mistakes he has made with me.
My dad is a narcissit, and suffers from depressive disorders...
Once I finally learned (from my own therapist) what a narcisstic parent is, and that there is such a thing as emotional abuse, and that I'm a victim of my dad's emotional abuse..... I had to make a choice.
I've known for the past 2 years, that I would eventually have to break whatever ties I had with him.
The only way for the pain, disappointment, and hurt to go away, would be to kill whatever hope I had that he would change.
Whatever glimmer of expectation that kept me going back to him, I had to suffocate and let die.
I could either go through my life, pretending, and expecting that one day, he will love me unconditionally. That he would be responsible, and apologize for the hurt...the tears, the disappointment, and the guilt he has caused me...And then be dropped over and over by him.
I needed to learn he would never catch me. He would never cushion my fall.
I barely saw him last year, which was my own decision. A decision he didn't fight.
I saw him 4 times before I left this past April. I called him when I got to England...a call that was never returned.
An eCard on my birthday. Promises of "care packages" he'd send me, once he had enough cash.
Nevermind the fact he could call us for free on Skype.
Nevermind wanting to know our address and spending the $2 it would take to send me a real letter.
I got silence from June to October.
A belated birthday card when I saw him for 2 hours in October, with $150 to make up for the silence, and a "So, are you marrying him beacuse you love him, or just to stay in the country" when I told him I was getting married.
Then, on December 27 I got an email...Asking what he's done for me to ignore him.
He claimed he lost my email address over the Summer.
"What have I done?" he said.
While I have known that this day would come, the day where I would lay it out for him, where I would give him a golden opportunity to walk away or apologize and get his act together and realize that he will lose his daughter if he doesn't accept responsibility and fucking WAKE UP.
I say and tell everyone that I was afraid to tell him why I was upset with him all these years because I didn't want to hurt him.
That I didn't want him to get more depressed, and possibly kill himself. That I was afraid the thought that he has been such an awful father would break him, and the thought that he hurt his daughter, his little girl so badly would cause him the greatest pain...And I didn't want to cause him pain.
But really,I knew that this wouldn't happen...
I knew that he could never accept responsiblity or aplogize, and take blame.
And how could I handle that? How could you handle that?
The fear I felt, was the fear of hurting myself with my own expectations.
...So, I wrote him back, a day later. Basically explaining all of the disappointment, anger, hurt, and pain that he has caused and inflicted over the past 21 years, but especially the 9 that has half assed as a human being.
I did not hold back, as I had nothing to lose.
I'm telling you all of this now, because I really don't have anything to lose, do I? And this is all very sad. Very, very sad. Because, you are my Dad. My father who doesn't really know how to be a parent. And that hurts, it hurts me more than it could ever hurt you.
I forgive you. I forgive that you don't know how do do this.
But, I'm choosing not to live with that hurt anymore.
In return, I got back excuses. Excuses, and more excuses. He addressed every financial issues, and claims he DID pay every single month of child support (there are many,many court papers that say otherwise) and that I will never understand the sacrifice he made for me, and that I cannot talk to him about what it means to be a father, until I am a parent.
...I am a CHILD.
I AM YOUR CHILD!
I can tell you everything about what it is like to have a father that will not allow his daughter to just simply be loved.
I do NOT NEED TO BE A PARENT to understand unconditional love.
I am a daughter. I am YOUR daughter. I am a sister.
I will soon be a wife.
One day I will be a mother.
And YOU will not be there for any of it.
I am walking myself down the aisle.
My children will never know that pain. That anger, and the bitter disappoinemtn that I was forced to feel.
I will never have a daughter that isn't allowed to be Daddy's Little Girl.
I will never have a son, that knows the pain of disappointment when his Father is not at his baseball games.
So do not tell me that I cannot speak of parenting to the man that claims to be my father.
I have lost my father, because I have given him up.
I do not know if I love him. I do not know if I truely forgive him.
And that is my burden, now. My burden is dealing with his absence, which will be far less painful than dealing with his presence.
What I do know, is that I feel ligther.
The question of "Will he...?" has been answered. The answer is "Never".
And I am strong enough to face a future without the comfort of my expectations.
I have the edgy, sharp honesty of reality to hold onto..While it is less comforting, at least I know it is real.
....And so now, a new year.
I am getting married.
I have cut myself loose from the thorned vines that have held me to my abuse, and disappointing past.
And now we move forward.
Always forward, always up...
And always strong.
Never mind the past pain.
I know how to love unconditionally...
And have learned what it's like to be loved unconditionally.
And from now on, that is all that matters.
"So many years have gone by
Always strong, tried not to cry
Never felt like I needed any man
To comfort me in life
But I'm all made up today
A veil upon my face
But no father stands beside me
To give this bride away"
.
**The first time I heard this song, I started bawling in the car like the lead actress in a Lifetime movie. It is beautiful. And speaks the things I am sometimes afraid to say....
