Every night I come home with the faint and irrational hope that something will be different, better, changed, fixed. Where did I go so goddamned wrong? How did it get to this point?
This isn’t worthy of an entry. I’m just talking to myself. The blog has been delinked from my fazigu.org homepage. Only visitors to tijuanabibles.org seemed to have found their way here.
I talked to her about the situation tonight. I don’t know why. I know all there is to know. There’s still that faint hope that she’ll make a complete turnaround and love me again.
If you’re reading this, you probably know me, and I’m sorry to break it to you this way, but my marriage isn’t doing so well.
She tells me other families are better. They have problems and the spouses work together to solve them. In our family, I dismiss them. That’s true as far as things like the crack in the wall in the girl’s room goes, or even chipped paint, or a cracked flue, or ants, or a leaking skylight. Maybe I am willfully oblivious to all these problems with the house. We’re just renting. What can I do? It’s an awesome neighborhood, and most of these things are cosmetic problems. I don’t mind cosmetic problems.
But she does, and I don’t sympathize, at least.
My shrink tells me I try too hard to see the other side of things, to see her side of things. I think she (my shrink) is giving me too much credit. I wish she’d be harder on me. I must be a pretty goddamned awful person, else I wouldn’t be in this situation, right?
I checked in on OKCupid.com and my wife had sent me a message. It just said “woo” or something, but it was sweet. It was from 2008.
I found an old birthday card in the car. It was “from” our eldest, when she was way too young to even scrawl her name. My wife had written the salutation with a little smiley. The card said “World’s Best Daddy.”
How did it get so bad?
Was I really oblivious to everything that led to this? She tells me how she told me she was close to wanting a divorce two summers ago. One summer ago, she’d brought up seeing other people. Maybe I was oblivious. I certainly didn’t make the changes she wanted to see. Am I even capable of making those changes? Do I know what to do? Am I capable of being a husband at all? A father?
Do you know me? I’m sorry things are like this. I wish I could go back in time, but to when? Last year? Before we had kids? Before we were married? I’m clueless now how to fix things, assuming anything can still be fixed. It’s all broken into jagged little pieces.
I don’t want to go to bed and lie awake for hours. I’ve been getting pretty good at blocking out my situation. That is, I stop thinking about the problems around me, the future, the consequences, what might happen, what lies ahead when I come home to an emotionally empty house. If I didn’t do it, I’d be suicidal 24/7. It takes a lot of energy to block out the hell of life. No, this isn’t me being angsty. It’s hell. I’m consigned to hell.
Maybe someone on the outside could help me out. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Someone tell me it’s not as bad as it seems. Someone tell me how to dig myself out of this situation. Tell me if it’s just time to give up, throw away the marriage. No, sorry, the marriage is already done. We’re finished. She’s said as much. She tells me she doesn’t hate me, but she resents me.
I’m writing this for myself, but I’m hoping, maybe, maybe someone will read it, stumble across it, someone who isn’t a bot spamming for Canadian pharmacy sites, maybe someone will read it and know what to do. We all hope someone will rescue us, don’t we? Or sympathize. Or something.
The medication must help, because my stomach isn’t in knots right now, and I haven’t even been drinking. It’s keeping me from killing myself.
Is that a good thing?
I don’t have anyone to talk to. My therapist, yes, but she thinks we should just separate. We can’t. It isn’t financially possible. She applauds me for just getting through each day in this situation. She’s 100% on my side, and that makes me wary. I want criticism. I want someone to tell me I’m wrong and tell me how to fix those wrongs.
I feel as if I’m wrong for not mentioning the kids more, that they should be the bright spot in my life, the thing that keeps me going. I do love them, and I do, well, what can I say? I want to get better for them, but my shrink is telling me to do more things for myself, to try to find things that make me happy. That’s all I’m getting. How do I enjoy life? Is that really it? Do I just need to enjoy life?
I’m dead inside. I’m a zombie. I’m shuffling through the wasteland of existence. Not even a zombie. At least they want brains. They know they want brains and they go after them. What do I want?
Almost a thousand words and what have I accomplished? Have I opened up any doors in my head? Have I figured anything out, sussed out any of my issues through this writing therapy? I don’t think so. How many times have I written “I” tonight? Well, it is all about me.
I’m going to smoke and go to bed. Tomorrow morning I’ll pick up donuts and try to forget the problems, try to make it through the day until the work week starts again. How long can this go on? How long should this go on? This isn’t any way to live.
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