I'm terrified that he is slowly getting tired of me. I'm afraid that every time he wants to go out and do something, and I can't, because of the state of my mental and/or physical health, that resentment is building in his heart, and that someday, he will realise the monster he bound himself to, and will leave me.
At the same time, I fear that he will never leave me, even though I am slowly destroying him. He is a giver. He's the ultimate "nice guy" with a white knight complex. But he can't fix me. Only I can fix me, and I'm doing a piss-poor job, and he is paying for it. He pretends he is okay with staying home on a Saturday to make me feel safe, but I know he would rather be doing something else. He feels obligated. I don't want to be an obligation. I want to be a source of joy and happiness for him. I want to be a good wife.
Today, I crossed the line. I was in a fog from some new medication, and he asked me if I wanted to go somewhere with him, later. My mind said "no, absolutely not, I just want to go back to sleep." But my mouth said "Sure." Half an hour later I backtracked, because I felt I needed to be honest with him. I told him I wasn't that interested in the activity that he invited me to.
It was a beer tour. He runs them, here and there, for extra money. This time, he had the opportunity to go as a guest, and there was room for me, too, because of cancellations. I made him look like an idiot because he had to call the guy back and cancel. I felt awful. I felt he must be very upset with me, and he was.
But he doesn't show it, when he's upset, because he doesn't want to be like his dad. He hardly ever raises his voice, and he didn't, this time, but in my mind, I felt like he should have been screaming at me. Hitting me. Telling me how useless I am, what a burden I am, how I just hold him back, cost him money, and keep him from doing things he wants to do.
But maybe all this was in my head. Maybe he wasn't really upset. I asked him if he was upset. I could hear the frustration in his voice. "I wish you would have told me 'no' to begin with," he said, and went into how he had to call the guy back and tell him I'd changed my mind.
BATTLEAXE. That's what the other guy must think, that Matt is married to a controlling, manipulative bitch. At that point, I blurted out what I was feeling. I was simultaneously thinking about how manipulative it was to tell him I was thinking of hurting myself, and that I needed him to stay with me so that I felt safe. I was turning the anger on myself. I told him of the image of the knife in my left hand, carving deep into my right arm, flooded my mind.
BATTLEAXE. MANIPULATIVE BITCH. JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER. ONLY DOING IT FOR ATTENTION.
I owe Matt everything. I owe him the roof over my head, the food I eat, the clothes I wear, the medical care I need. I owe him for all of it, and I have a duty as his wife to do things I don't particularly like, when I am not feeling particularly well, to repay all the times he has done that for me.
He says he doesn't feel that way. He says that he still wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He says there is nothing to forgive, that I'm not "in trouble," that everything is okay. Yeah, that's what they all said. And then, they left. Three fiance's and a husband. None of them could handle me. Matt says he can't stand to see me beat myself up. I do it because I feel I deserve punishment, for not doing enough to contribute to the household, for not finishing anything that I start, for not being a functional human being.
I almost wish he would hit me. I could accept that. I could deal with physical abuse if I knew it would even the playing field. I felt the same way in some of my earlier relationships. I would scream at them to just hit me, that I deserved it. I deserve to be hurt. When my first fiancé refused to hit me, I hit myself. I gave myself bruises, I bit myself. He tried to stop me, but I couldn't stand being touched. Eventually, he left me, because I was insane, and he was gay, or so he said. It was really much more complicated than that. His mother had died some months before. That's another story.
I am married to a selfless, wonderful, patient, adoring human being whom I do not deserve, and I feel like he deserves better than a thing like me. It's days like this that I think I should just disappear. Make arrangements to leave in the middle of the night, go back to the hell-hole that is my mother's house, because that's where I came from, and that's what I deserve.
And the most insane thing about writing this is that I feel very little. It is such an old, familiar script that I just rehearse it with a kind of dismal apathy. I know damn well how it was written, who collaborated on it and where the plot came from. I should have outgrown this by now. I have had more than enough time to eradicate this, more than enough evidence presented to me that shows my thinking is wrong. Yet, it's like trying to prove a creationist wrong by showing him clearly proven geological evidence that their theory is wrong. My douchebag brain won't let go of its faith in the idea that self-flagellation will somehow make up for my wrongs, and that, indeed, I have innumerable wrongs to atone for.
I know there are reasons for these thought processes. I know that, by and large, they're ridiculous reasons. Even so, I feel like writing this entry is just a big fat excuse for being a defective, conniving, worthless, soul-sucking asshole who deserves all of the physical and emotional pain I've endured.
When will he realise he married a monster?
No comments:
Post a Comment