This past few weeks have been a mind f*** in many ways -- excuse the language. I just can't think of any other way to put it. I've broken the fun house mirror that is my life, and I've chosen to quit looking at my realities head on instead of filtered through splayed fingers.
Two and a half weeks ago, I walked out on my husband. I had to come back the next day because I don't have anywhere to go long-term, and I just started a new job. It was just one thing too many, one time too often. Couple that with the fact that I've really been sticking to eating healthy and working out and getting stronger and feeling that I don't need to keep taking this anymore, and you can do the math.
Since that weekend when I walked out, I have completely checked out. I don't wear my wedding ring anymore. There are no "I love yous," no "good morning/good evening" when I come or go, no doing anything together, no sleeping in the same room. This isn't just an "I'm mad" moment, I'm totally and utterly checked out. I finally -- FINALLY -- believe I deserve better than what I've been getting. He's a miserable person, and the only way he seems to be able to function is to make others around him miserable. Even though he adopted and raised her, he didn't like my daughter. Well, she's been gone for seven years. He hated my parrot, and I sold her earlier this year. He always had negative comments to say about the dogs (not that the dogs are/were bad, just focused on negative stuff whether true or contrived), and one died last month and the other is a senior who has a heart condition. Which just leaves me. I realized that the day would come when I will be the SOLE focus of all his negativity.
Earlier this week is when the mind f*** began. I came to a huge realization. When I was married to my ex, who was physically violent, I walked on eggshells, watched what I said, what I did, over-thought things so that I could be prepared for any reaction, and lived in a constant state of upheaval because I was afraid of being beaten. I got fat and guaranteed no man would ever beat me or abuse me again (though in all fairness, I gained 90 percent of my weight while married to my current husband and didn't during the four years I was divorced). However, with my husband, I find myself walking on eggshells, watching what I say, what I do, over-thinking things so that I can be prepared for whatever reaction he will have, and I live in a constant state of upheaval because I'm trying so hard not to deal with his emotional mind screws. So, in reality, what's the difference between being physically beaten down and mentally so? I really and truly came to the realization that I'm living the same freaking life in so many ways that I was before, except that with the BEATINGS, I knew they would eventually end. That hit me like a ton of bricks -- not only that it's abusive in its own way, but that the protective barrier I put up (the weight) was really all for naught, wasn't it?
Add to that I've been watching Ruby on Netflix. They just uploaded the 2010 episodes. When I get past her drawn-out caterwauling when talking to others and her Ruby-isms (I mean, really? Hacky for happy??), some of the show has been very cathartic. One episode in particular was exceptionally so, which I watched on Sunday. It was a two-hour episode in which Ruby and some of her other heavy lady friends do a six-day intensive therapy/detox, and they really start getting into the different things that happened in their lives which helped contribute to their weight gain. A lot of those issues in my life are not new and, frankly, have been dealt with through therapy, but on the heels of what's happening right now, it hit pretty hard.
Anyway, I have an appointment tomorrow night with a therapist that my husband and I used to visit for couple's counseling. I told her that I have one foot out the door now and wanted to talk to her about that and also about my willingness to stay for 20 years and put up with what I now consider to be emotional abuse. She forewarned me that her focus is on helping couples stay together, but she's willing to speak with me for one or two sessions since she knows us and our history. This way I'm not starting fresh with somebody new who has never met him. This is no longer about working on US. It's now about working on ME, and that me will likely be without him. The fact is, he doesn't believe he has a problem; and unless or until somebody realizes that they DO have one, then all the therapy in the world will be nothing more than a huge waste of money. I can't fix him -- I can ONLY fix me. And "me" doesn't like being shit on anymore. "Me" finally feels that I deserve better, and "me" no longer feels grateful that some guy wants to be with me. "Me" NOW wants to see how great I can be to myself.
