Spew

Posted on October 21, 2013 Updated on October 21, 2013

Note from 10/21/2013:  I had posted this blog for a few hours the day that I wrote it.  I wanted to vent.  I then changed it to private.  Now that my marriage has ended and I just don’t give a shit, I’m setting it to public.  I think it’s important for other women (or men, I suppose) who might be feeling the same thing to have some reassurance that they aren’t alone.  You can change your situation.  Don’t make excuses for why it’s okay to be treated in a way you don’t want to be treated.  YOU DESERVE HAPPINESS.

January 29, 2013

I’m pissed.  I’m lacking in eloquence right now to describe it any other way.  I’m pissed pissed PISSED PISSED!  You can tell I mean it because I’m up after 11pm when I’m suppose to get up at 4am for the gym.  And fuck, am I going to bust my ass after all of the chocolate I just consumed.  Like 500 calories worth of chocolate and a banana because I’m pissed.  If I could go to the gym, I would, which would be far better than drowning my anger in food like my former fat self.

I shouldn’t have to be this angry.  I’ve worked very hard on myself to not be so angry when my expectations aren’t met.  This is part of how I got so fat in the first place.

Let’s back up because I feel like writing.  I need to vent.

I’ve never been thin.  I was always a big, tall girl.  I played sports, but wasn’t an athlete.  I didn’t work out, but I had books and yarn… what else do you need?

I had a high school sweetheart who was my best friend.  I left college to come home to him.  Yes, I was that girl.  I left what I had worked so hard in high school to achieve for a boy.  The one I was going to be with forever.  We moved into a rental house which soon after went up for sale and I pushed him to buy it.  We weren’t financially stable, I worked at Dairy Queen, we barely had credit.  Enter shady mortgage broker.

We got the loan, signed on the house and broke up less than a month later.  We had been together 5 years, I was 19 and hit a breaking point.  I was suffocating.  I felt like I was his only person.  I couldn’t handle the pressure of being everything to him.

Then came my future husband.  He was the exact opposite of my ex.  I try not to dwell on what we were to each other because I took it for granted and ruined everything.  Financially, things took a shit.  I lost my fiancée best friend in one fleeting decision.  It happened and I can’t fix it, no matter the guilt that ate eats at me.

My husband has a million friends and family members he would drop anything in a blink of an eye to help.  A trait I once found endearing, but that’s for later.

We were crazy for each other back then, all the time.  We got into explosive fights sometimes.  Two of my high school friends moved in to help me with the outrageous mortgage.  We alienated them.  I was an idiot.  I didn’t see what was happening.  Then we decided to start trying for a baby.  WHY?!  I have no idea. It seemed like the thing to do in Hicktown, USA.  Before we found out I was pregnant, we set a date for our wedding.  On Mother’s Day, I was officially pregnant.  By our wedding day two months later, I didn’t want to get married anymore.  Had I not been pregnant, I wouldn’t have.

Lots of things happened after.  He had many jobs, longest one a year, most a few months.  We lived with my mom while I was pregnant and for a while after the birth.  I was miserable there.  I was depressed after the baby.  After he turned a year old, I wanted a divorce.  I bought a book on DIY divorces and started filling out the papers.  I was done.  I was tired of being neglected.

Then… I was pregnant again   I didn’t want to do it alone.  I didn’t want to be another single mother with two kids and divorced.  There are so many, I just didn’t want that to be me too.  It felt like failure.   This is what I chose, now I had to deal.

After a second child, I was extremely depressed.  I got fatter in addition to not losing any baby weight.  My husband would go off to the bar or a friend’s and be gone for hours.  Once, he never came home at all until morning and didn’t seem to understand why that was a problem.

I would just stay at home and cry and take care of babies.  I would get so angry, upset, hysterical.  I’d call my mom randomly to come over.  She’s come relieve me and I’d lie in my room and do nothing or cry some more.  She encouraged me to tell a doctor, but that felt like more defeat to me and I didn’t want medication.  I wanted a solution instead.

Things got better for a while.  Then my husband was drunk and punched a guy at my high school reunion.  I was embarrassed, mortified.  We paid for a lawyer and went to court, he went to jail, we still pay restitution.  I stuck by him.

And he cheated on me.  I don’t know to what extent.  I know he kissed one skank.  I have never so much as flirted with another man.  I still feel betrayed.  I still don’t trust.  It’s still on my mind with every text or phone call.  Every time he comes home late from work.  I hate it.  I can’t imagine the trust ever being completely repaired.  Can you have a relationship that lasts against those odds?

I lost interest in sex probably after my second child.  I only ever do it to keep my husband “happy,” but that obviously wasn’t working for me.  I don’t feel loved (unless he wants something), I don’t feel appreciated (unless he wants something), I don’t feel respected (unless he wants something).  In the beginning, he acted so in love with me that I thought I would NEVER have to worry about cheating.

The breaking point for my weight was after my mom’s wedding in May of 2011.  I saw a horrible picture of myself at 240 pounds.  I couldn’t believe it was me.  I remember getting dressed that day and being uncomfortably in my body and all the clothes I tried.  I looked grotesque.  I hated myself.  I wasn’t going to wait anymore for happiness to find me and I didn’t want to wallow in my despair.  I decided I couldn’t be at home waiting around anymore.

I started slowing doing active things like Zumba, the gym sometimes and at home some p90x and Insanity.  Finally, I started running and eventually wound up at a wellness center where I swim, bike and run.  I do yoga classes and spinning… I’m taking swim lessons.

I ENJOY what I’m doing for me now.

And now I get attitude about it.

I do want to say, my husband is not a horrible man.  He is generally a good man to his friends and family and his kids.  I feel that I never come first.  If a buddy calls him and needs help, he runs right out to do it.

The problem is that I NEED someone willing to put me first.  I’m not selfish enough to think that it’s necessary all the time.

But when I ask for the light switch in the bedroom to be fixed, I expect it to be done in less than a month.  Isn’t that reasonable?  Instead, I get attitude like, “you didn’t remind me.”  All of the blame is always pushed onto me.  He can’t accept responsibility for anything.

“If you didn’t freak out about my driving, then I wouldn’t drive as bad.”

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.  GAAAAAAH!  This type of thing over and over.  I can’t handle it, I’m about to explode.

Yes, it’s my decision to workout, but I also do it early in the morning so it won’t interrupt dinner time.  I need to be home in the evening to cook and take care of the kids.  So my day generally goes, wake up between 4-5, get to the gym.  Showered and out of the gym by 7:30.  Work from 8-5.  Then home to kids screaming they are hungry the minute I walk in the door.  Cook dinner, something that hopefully everyone will eat since I’m eating paleo and my youngest is dairy-free and my husband isn’t open to trying anything new.  Then dishes, laundry, baths, bedtime and finally a little time to sit and knit or read or do nothing.

Last night, I’m doing dishes before bed and instead of offering to help so I can go to bed too, he puts away dinner and starts asking me where specific dishes are while I’m trying to wash things.  I get annoyed because he doesn’t offer to help me and he storms off to bed leaving half the food in the pan.

This is just an example of many many things that drive me batty.  Lie on the couch, all night and do nothing, don’t ever offer to help me with anything, I ask for help which is replied with procrastination and then anger because I didn’t “remind” him.

TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING.

Oh and now I get attitude because I “spend half the day at the gym” which I don’t.  I go in the mornings on the weekend and maybe stop at the store to pick up something and I’m home by noon.  In the meantime, he’d normally be doing nothing but lying around in pajamas.  Now I want to spend all day at the gym, because I don’t want to be home anymore.

When I get upset with my situation, I think of how much worse it could be and that I should appreciate that I at least have this much.  But that makes it feel more maddening because all I want is to be respected and appreciated.  Is that really too much?

I’m not going to proofread this because I don’t want to read it over and get more angry.  I wanted to get it out, so there you go.  Spewed everywhere.  If you make it through this whole mess of a post, let me know.  You deserve a reward.

P.S.  I would like to add, he is sometimes supportive.  He was really proud of me for doing the Muck Ruck.  I’m just getting whip lash from the indecisiveness.  I know he didn’t ask for me to change.  I’m different than I was.  I just don’t know how to deal.