I think I finally cried yesterday, but not necessary for directly-related stressors… I guess it’s a start, at any rate.
It’s really stupid and petty and small to be upset about what upset me, and I know it, but at the same time, it does indicate a major issue that I really need to work on.
I really, really do not like feeling jealousy. I’m not comfortable with it, it’s this very bad, negative, destructive feeling. It’s the thing in me that really will cause untold magnitudes of damage without batting an eye or giving a damn for the consequences. It is the malicious, vicious, sociopathic element.
And that’s why I don’t let myself get jealous. I resolved it ages ago and learned to twist it back into its more positive state. I don’t get jealous over girls hitting on my man (unless I’m not getting any, and then it’s more about being pissed off at him), and I generally have a pretty easy time being happy for my friends and family and even total strangers when they hit on a stroke of good luck or manage to finally earn some great reward or opportunity.
Last night, Joe went to the “Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day” premiere in Dallas as part of the Red Carpet Crash entourage. Both Sean Patrick Flannery and Norman Reedus were there, did a great Q&A, had fun times…
And I fucking missed it.
Instead, I was in Wyoming, fixing a toilet. I was installing a bathroom and doing drywall and painting. I was taking care of someone else’s house, single-handedly taking care of four kids (thank the gods for teenagers), still standing on a tenuous precipice between the life I want and the life I’ve kinda gotten stuck with, having to fix it by myself, just like the house…
And I guess that’s just the frustration that sent me over, and it’s bringing up the rest of those “oh crap I got screwed again” feelings. (At least I’m crying now. That’s a good thing.)
Here’s what bothers me about this. This is the repeated pattern. I help someone I love. I volunteer for extra work for their sake. I get shafted when it comes to do something in return. It’s not the expectation of the return that’s violated, it’s the statement of intent that is violated. There are statements.
I’m sure it’s not deliberate… or I should say, gods help the sorry sonsabitches if it IS deliberate… but here’s a great example. I work essentially two to three jobs at any time – my for-pay work, my homeschooling of children, and running the rest of the household. Joe works… one. (He used to have two out-of-house jobs, years ago.) Joe was in a band and Joe played D&D. I played D&D, too, sometimes, but I dropped out because it just wasn’t really fun for me anymore. That left my weekly leaving the house to “none”, unless you want to count occasional trips to the grocery store. Anytime I’d leave the house to do something for FUN (as opposed to “for work”, which was almost always), after about an hour, it’s either phone calls from Joe, “Where are you? When are you coming home?” or Joe is already there with me, wanting to leave. Harassment occurs every twenty minutes, a half an hour, until finally my time is so riddled with holes that there’s no fucking point in trying to complete whatever relaxation or fun-time-having I was trying to get into.
So… I bust my ass pretty much all day, everyday, and have to steal my “free time” (being sick doesn’t fucking count as “down time”, Ex), and Joe – one job, minimal responsibilities – goes out with Flannery and Reedus and the RCC crowd… goes to movie screenings, hangs out at the Dubliner after work, goes and watches sports games at sports bars with sporty people.
But it’s not just him. He’s just the latest in the long line of the pattern. My ex-husband was the same way, my parents growing up were the same way. Any down-time I had was always on someone else’s schedule, so if I didn’t “hurry and rest up” or “hurry and recharge” or whatthefuckever in the allotted time, I’m just shitouttaluck.
And the kid wonders why I almost never smile.
All the “there will be other times” talk? Just keep it to yourself for a while. I neither want to hear it nor do I need to hear it, because that’s not the point. The point is that I got shafted last night during a very rare event as a culminative occurrence to the whole larger scale of getting shafted.
It’s back to that whole “love is not enough” thing. This may sound shitty, but I probably wouldn’t have this big of a problem with the whole situation if I was getting something significant in return. That whole “at least you get the whole kid experience” thing only goes so far when you factor in that the whole kid experience means ALL of the responsibility as well as the neat stuff – and all the fear, frustration, irritation, and anxiety…
I’m committed to giving one last chance, but I think it’s going to require seeing the true face of rage for him to really earn that chance as satisfied – not as a punishment but rather as a very clear understanding of what he’s gotten himself into. I’m not willing to continue playing nice if it’s just going to continue getting me screwed – and not even well.