8.03.2005
Am I Too Sensitive?
I am majorly pissed off, and I don't really know what to do about it.
In my last post, I alluded to my life being a 'jumble'. I was being deliberately mild, but since being kept up past 1 am last night by D's latest threat to leave, I no longer fucking care.
My life is, simply put, a fucking cesspool of being rejected, abandoned, judged and severely conscious of my personal failings, character flaws and deep-seated anger.
It's been a while since I've blogged, so I'll have to give you a brief overview of what's been going on in my life.
Since my post of 5/26, I've:
1. relapsed into smoking weed
2. starting smoking cigarettes again
3. lost my father to a heart attack
4. allowed myself to be talked out of getting baptized by the pastor of my church
5. endured an ongoing meltdown by D over items 1 & 2.
6. stopped smoking weed for the past week. at least temporarily.
7. discovered that I enjoy my job and playing golf a great deal more than I do my marriage.
8. pretty much told God to fuck off and leave me alone.
In detail:
1. D, ever unsatisfied with something I'm either doing or not doing, suggested we get some weed from the neighbors so she could get a night of hot sex out of the deal. Disregarding the fact that I am a TOTAL addict AND that I had been straight for almost six months AND praying like a drowning man for grace to live alone in a marriage that she is committed to being unhappy in, she went for it. Three months later, I'd rather have a joint than have to deal with living under the same roof with her.
2. After D decided to tell one of my kids that I was getting high, AND having another one bust me in the act, I switched to cigarettes in an attempt to satisfy my oral fixation for smoking. This caused a shitstorm from D, who hates smoking more than anything, I discovered. She went so far as to ask me to go back to weed and stop cigarettes. She pissed me off so much, I did both.
3. Two Sundays after meeting with the pastor and elders in preparation for my baptism (a long story for another blog when I'm not in such a foul mood), I get a voice mail from my sister, who had not spoken to me in 3 years, telling me that my Dad (who also had not spoken to me in 3 years) had died. She went on to tell me that I was not to go to my mother's house (who had not spoken to me in about a year -- she's the forgiving one) and that she would call me when she had info on the 'arrangements'. Dear, old Dad, who spent the better part of his twenties and thirties beating me down, didn't like the fact that I'd emailed him in a group email including his sisters (who he also wasn't speaking to) to announce my engagement to D. Dad had trouble understanding why, after a lifetime of abuse, condemnation and overall withholding of love, I would not choose a more 'personal' method of communicating. And, of course, he needed to let me know that since I was living in sin, he could not offer any blessing or encouragement for my stated intention to marry.
At the time, we all knew that Dad had cancer throughout his body. I sent two emails in response to his response: the first basically telling him to fuck off, being as he'd never been anything other than a source of pain to me anyway; and the second apologizing for the venom in my first reply and stating my concern that if we didn't figure out a way to mend our deal, I'd have stand over his grave not knowing why I never had a real father.
Congratulations, Dad, you miserable fuck. Thanks for nothing. The strange thing about it is that people seem convinced that he's with Jesus now. I certainly hope so, because despite his total absence of any kind of tangible love for me, he's still my father and the only hope I have now for closure is to see him on the other side. Of course, there's more than a smidgeon of doubt on that score in my mind, seeing as it takes some kind of hardness to know that you're on the way out and yet ignore the olive branch I tried to extend in a Father's Day card.
It took 3 days for my family to let me know what the deal was with the funeral. My father has 5 sisters, two of whom go to my church. Yet I was expected not to tell them that their brother had died. "It was his wish that they not be told," my mother informed me when she called me a day and half later wondering why I didn't call her. Um, it seemed pretty clear from sis's message that you had no desire to have my sorry ass around, that's why.
I had to miss the whole week of work while she and my sister decided what they were going to do, which was to basically keep me at a distance and pretend like my father didn't have any other family.
4. In my desire to deal with the whole Dad thing like a real Christian, I put in a call to the church for prayer. When the pastor called, he asked how I was dealing with it. Being high, I told him I was high and struggling not to want to stay high through the funeral. At least. Two days later, he calls back to talk to me about whether or not it was a good idea to get baptized the next Sunday. Not because he was concerned about my emotional state, mind you. I had actually come to the conclusion that it would be a great opportunity to promote healing in what was left of my family. As if my mother or sister would have actually shown up. No, pastor was much more concerned that my active addiction might make a mockery of my public declaration of faith. So, I'm on the phone with him, my mind so consumed with all the shit surrounding Dad's death that I'm not really able to think straight, and he wants to know where I'm at 'directionally' with this whole thing. So I tell him I have to think about it.
By the time he calls back, I'm pissed. Why is it that some Christians can't see the forest for the trees? I mean, my FATHER JUST DIED. I told you that there were issues with the relationship. And you want to pin me down on whether my desire to get baptised is tainted? Fuck off. So I just tell him that I'm not going to get into all of that now. I can get baptized later. Maybe by someone who actually understands what it's supposed to mean. I've been a Christian for over 26 years, and I've just come to the conclusion that I should do it, largely based on one this guy's sermons. He presented it as an act of obedience, not as some sort of public dedication or commitment not to ever fuck up in your life. I wonder if he pays attention to what he's saying. Anyway, after thinking about it, I realized it was best not to stand up, give a testimony and be baptized by someone you're really pissed off at.
5. D. is a total basket case. Two weekends after she got her hot sex, she's up my ass to quit the weed. Now, at the time, I was having a really positive effect from using. After two months or more of praying through tears on my drive to work for grace to regain the will to live and be giving, selfless and Christ-honoring to this never satisfied woman, I was newly energized. I was getting work done around the house and garden, teaching her boys how to play ball and coaching their Little League team, and fucking her brains out nearly every night. I haven't been this productive at home in, well, ever...
But it wasn't working for her anymore. She was pushing me away, and nagging the living shit out of me about it. So I just kept on getting things done, leaving her to stew. She got so pissed off about me not doing things her way, she stepped up to me during Memorial Day weekend like she was going to throw a punch. Seriously. Then she wrote up a will and printed up the Separation Agreement she had done the year before and demanded that I sign it. As if.
Of course, my work around the office was suffering somewhat. That's when I started smoking cigarettes again.
Well, you'd have thought I spit in her face, cheated on her, slapped her around and emptied her bank account all at the same time the day she found out. It was during HER boys' last game of the season. She LEFT THE FIELD, missing the oldest's last nice hit (something I taught him how to do, btw) so she could go home and MOVE HER SHIT INTO THE BASEMENT. The divorce papers came out again, and she told me that she would leave if I didn't quit.
Now, despite my natural tendency to say "Fuck you", I did stop during a trip we took to Florida at the end of June. Yeah, I had a company-paid conference in Orlando, and decided to rent a minvan and take her kids and her to Tampa to see her mother. Because I was still very much into demonstrating love and commitment to the marriage. I knew how much it would mean to her to be able to take a trip. I spent over a grand that I didn't have to in order to make that happen for her and the boys. And I don't regret it. I did the right thing. But gratitude was not forthcoming. By the time we got home, I was ready for a smoke.
She did take a bit of a break during my week of 'bereavement'. However, that was made possible by the fact that only hours before I found out, I took a vow to go another week without cigarettes to demonstrate my commitment to her and desire to make her happy. Afterwards, I wanted a smoke so bad that I actually spent a few hours curled up in a ball on my bed, as if I was going through heroin withdrawal. My cravings were that bad. But I made it clear that I would not break that vow unless she released me from it. Which she was in no way willing to do. But I'm proud of the fact that I made it the full week (8 days, actually) without taking a single drag. Of course, I saw very clearly that I was only going to be loved and supported on a conditional basis by this woman.
Last night, she decided to put herself out there by offering to 'really' love me, if I would just quit. Otherwise, she was out. Again. Or still, depending on your point of view. I declined her kind proposal, unable to make her understand that her offer of love had absolutely no appeal with all its strings. Today she only loves me if I don't smoke. Tomorrow she only loves me if I never fail to mop the kitchen floor whenever SHE thinks it should be done. No thanks.
7. Despite the mountain of pain I've been in over the past month, yesterday I realized that my head had cleared up enough to really focus on my job. I really love what I do. I work at a decent company with generous benefits making nice money. I have a great boss, one who actually values something about me. And I get to work on new challenges every day, steadily building a reputation as the 'go to guy' in my area of expertise. I stand to make a 5-figure bonus next spring, with 3 weeks' vacation and 12 paid holidays. Why fuck with that? This is the best motivation I've had to stop getting high in 3 months.
Plus, I've been playing golf with guys from the church, and will be playing softball with them in a couple of weeks. Good guys. I like hanging with them. They think I'm smart and funny. They don't question my eternal destiny or turn their noses up at my smoking.
So, all in all, I'm doing OK. I could be better, but I sure as hell could be a whole lot worse.
At least I have stuff to do to compensate for the fact that I've got no marriage to speak of.
8. I didn't really tell God to fuck off OR leave me alone. But my prayers are a whole lot less frequent. I want to get back on track, but I don't want to live a joyless life of living just to keep other people happy. I'm not asking for pity, and I'm not giving any either. If God wants me to suffer, suffer I shall. But I'm through denying who I am. I'm pissed, and I don't care who knows anymore.
Diana keeps alluding to being suicidal over my smoking. You know what? Stop trying to lay your emotional instability at my feet. Get help. Get a clue. Get out. I don't care. You think killing yourself is the answer? No one's stopping you. It's time to grow up and realize that God didn't order the universe for your comfort. Or mine. Grab the good. Endure the bad. Nothing lasts forever.
Shalom?
Whatever.
- posted by The Drake @ 4:27 PM
Comments:
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well, they don't exactly give it to me...
anyway, they've quit because the wife failed a piss test for a really good job opportunity.
God works in mysterious ways.
anyway, they've quit because the wife failed a piss test for a really good job opportunity.
God works in mysterious ways.
Hang in there, my friend! You'll get through this. You always do. And just let me know if you need to blow of some steam over some cold amber beverages.
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