It’s me. Again. Seems I only write when I am inherently upset. And well, I am. A little today. Ok. Who am I kidding? I’m extremely upset. You see, I want to now if it’s me or him. Am I projecting my fears and inadequacies to my better half? Or is he the problem? My mind makes a pretty good argument for either case – but that mostly depends on the time and my general mood at that particular moment.
We fight. A lot. He says I am petty and unforgiving. This is true. For the most part. But isn’t he at least a little bit at fault for never making an effort to stop doing…or at the very least, decrease…the things he does that get me all riled up? I mean…isn’t that what relationships are all about? Finding the one person in this world who really genuinely cares about your crazy ass mood swings and weird feelings and is there to…sort of…calm you down and help you feel better? Note that I did not say “make you feel better”. Because we all know that no one can make you happy – happiness, is, as they say – an inside job.
Which brings me to my second point of – maybe I am the crazy one. Maybe – and this is not too extreme a thought – maybe I am the one at fault. Maybe I put too much pressure on him. A side effect of being a perfectionist and expecting…no needing…the best out of everything and everyone EVERY TIME!!! It is such a burden I tell you. And is quite the mood killer. I overthink everything. And lately, I am tired. Just exhausted. I wish could switch it off. Just quiet the voices. But they are persistent little buggers. They do not fade nor do they quieten with time. And I feel that I may push him away sometimes. Just because of how I would like to escape being me for a day or two. How much more must he need to get away from me?
He is a great guy. Intelligent. Gentleman. Generous to a fault. At least when it comes to me. He gives me money, his house, his car. Anything I ask for. He finds a way of getting it to me. And yet, I am super unhappy. Why is that? Is it something he does, or is it something I do? Something inside of me that simply won’t let me free? I am not the most social of people. And outside of him, I would really rather not spend my time with anyone else. Maybe a friend or two. Which really, is all I have. I resigned myself to that. I’m not winning any popularity contests any time soon.
But he is the polar opposite of who I am. Of what I am. He loooooves company. He loves to be around people. Loves to be the center of attention. Loves to drink and have a good time with his boys. Key word. Drink. Alcohol. Every day. Without fail. The quantity and type varies. But it is a staple in our house (yes…I kinda live with him…even though I am not married to him, which in African culture is a huge no! no! but spare me the lecture. It’s not anything I haven’t already heard from my parents and friends.) So anyway, back to him. He loves his liquor. Mostly Malt Lager. Though a Whisky never steered him astray. He’s also partial to wines – reds mostly. He is usually in control of his faculties when he drinks. But every so often…he goes off the rails. Not in a violent way. Just in the way that makes you scared. Shudder a little. Wonder if this is what you can expect when you’re 28 and married. Carrying his first baby. Or when you’re 35 and already have four children with the man. Is this what you have to look forward to? Coming home to hidden liquor bottles in the kitchen cabinets and emptied wine bottles in the fridge refilled with water so that semi-teetotaler you will have no idea that he downed the entire bottle in one sitting last night when you went to bed early and he decided to “sit up and watch a late night talk show”??? Is this the life you expect to lead?
You see, for me…this is a very pertinent question. I grew up with an alcoholic father and I didn’t realize just how bad that ish affected me – until I shacked up with a potentially alcoholic man. It’s horror land in my mind. Every night he goes out for “business meetings” with the boys that end at midnight or other odd hours…I wake up from his snoring. Snoring that becomes a lot worse when he has a beer or 5 in him. He claims to only drink two beers…but lately, it seems more like twenty. So is it my doing? Is it my constant nitpicking and fight mongering borne from the paranoia that the past is bound to repeat itself that is causing it all? Or is it just an outward manifestation of the inward turmoil I constantly seem to feel?
You see, when I am mad at him…it consumes me. Like a fire – roaring and raging and burning out of control. And I get into this trance like state where I just shut down. I put my walls up and getting to me is very difficult – if not impossible. But its an exterior front for the hurt I feel inside. A hurt so real and raw that I scarce an bear it. I carry it with me. And it weighs a ton. But he just seems so light and weightless. And of course this upsets me more. And I want to hurt him. Make him feel as bad as I am feeling. What gives him the right to be happy when I am so unhappy? How dare he be okay when I am not? Isn’t that what love is? You ought to feel the pain of your loved one? Bear it as though it were your own? Then how dare he not? How dare he defy my feelings? And all these thoughts just keep spinning in my head and I get so mad. So damn angry.
But is it me? Could it be me? Me that has issues to work through, and me that has to find happiness within so that I can find it with him? You see the danger with loving someone like your life depends on it…loving them like they are the center of your universe, is that you are not free to choose how YOU want to feel. You are not capable of being your own first love…and so how could you possibly love another? You will project your feelings, your emotions on to the other person…and you will blame them for your insecurities and your shortcomings. When he looks in the mirror, he is happy with who he sees looking back at him. He is happy with what he says, and does. With who he is becoming. And you begin to resent him for that. To punish him for that. And it’s really not his fault. And the man that used to love you so much. That used to hang on your every word…begins to lose interest in you. Begins to tire of the snide remarks. And the mean retorts. The long silences and the unreplied text messages. The man you love begins to retreat into a shell…and you’re left arguing with your ghosts and fighting your demons. All the while lamenting the absence of your knight in shining armor forgetting that it was you who struck the fatal blow that ended what was sure to be the best romance of your life.