I am Sure you will Forgive Yourself for Everything

I’m quite aware that I was not birthed as the perfect person.  Everyone who has any influence in my life has brought up at least one of my flaws.  But, that is how we (as people) react with each other.  And, quite honestly, if you only surround yourself with people who are not challenging you to be better, then you are missing out on life.

I’m rambling.  That’s going to happen.  What I mean to get at is that I know I have not reacted perfectly in every situation.  My grace, in my own opinion, is that I have not acted maliciously or done anything specific to harm someone else.  I would remember if I did, too, because I suffer myself with those thoughts for as many nights as I try and sleep.  And, over all…through all of my embarrassments, I still think I am a good person.

There seems to be evidence to the contrary, representing that I do not have anyone close to me anymore.  It should be comforting that it is almost completely from my own choosing and lack of correspondence with the people who actually showed an interest in my life and me being a part of theirs.  It should be.  But, I am aiming at a different reasoning for this writing session, and that topic is too much to cover right now.

I once again feel like my life is falling apart.  Add some salt that I might be a smidge dramatic since everything seems to be corrupting all at once.  But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like the ground is opening up, the walls full of holes are now splintering down, and I no longer have shelter from the sky above me.  (I told you I was dramatic.)  I have been in too many failing roles to consider my job secure, recently adding a few more.  I’ve been halted with the news that I really do have something chemically/physically wrong with me, determined from birth, that I am suffering from that has an end-game of death by organ failure and poisoning.  And after the death of my second attempt at a son or daughter, my marriage that was supposed to make everything worth it has revealed itself to be one person’s ticket to having a free life, and another person’s burden.  The one of those that I am is the less optimistic, of course.

One thing could fall apart, and I would survive strong.  Two things could lash out, and I would continue walking until healed.  All three preceded by more than a year of struggling…I’m losing it.  I want to classify that someone can feel suicidal without actually having the fear for them killing their self.  It is a sinking feeling that makes even the lightest things in one’s life heavy, but it is not a begging feeling to get a knife and open an artery.  After all, it is a feeling of the ultimate form of depression, and the last thing depressed people have is motivation to do anything.  But, there is a hurt, inside, enough that it leads to fanaticizing about one taking their own life.  Just to be clear.

My greatest wound is my wife.  There is a mentality that I don’t fully understand that she has adapted so passionately.  Removed of any influence of any fond emotion for me, she has built our relationship up into a situation where she sees me as some invader of her world and antagonist against all she could accomplish in life.  I believe that she has convinced herself that she would be better off without me, but continues to stay with me without making any move of improving things.  I think I have given her so much support and…everything…that she lost every notion that things are gifts of my emotion for her and should be reciprocal.

This is completely vague.  I know that.  There are examples I could give, like when I went to the doctor’s for a check-up and they called back saying there were a few things wrong.  I told her that.  Her verbatim reaction was, “Oh.  So, I work tomorrow at –sometime– and me and my friends are going out…”  I shielded myself from crying in front of her with both of her miscarriages and put on a strong front to help her get through it, even though it broke me inside.  But, there is something wrong with me that I need her support for?  Fuck it.

Today, I asked her why she wanted to be with me.  She said, rolling her eyes, that she loved me.  I said, okay, but what about me makes you want to be with me.  She could not give me an answer.  She leaches off of my earnings enough to go to school for a certain profession only to give up effort when it gets rough, and then proceeds to work part-time at a clothing store that she actually spends more in than she makes.  She insists on being taken out to eat even when our bank account has been spent.  We get in fanatical arguments every time I spend time with someone else because she gets so jealous, but then complains that I don’t go anywhere or do anything with anyone.  She complains to her family that I am mean to her when I get upset over how much she doesn’t care about me, and uses the fact that I acted aggressively in an attempt to portray how much she is hurting me even after she completely agrees that she was the one being awful.  I have never physically abused her, and she says to me frankly that she knows that I never would…which I wouldn’t…but uses my hitting the walls in aggression (I rarely get that upset) to paint a picture of how awful I am to her.

The most basic point I don’t understand is…if you care about someone, then why wouldn’t you want to be good to them?  That is the way I act.  Why can’t she?  What does she think I am trying to get away with?  What has she been prevented from ever doing?  When have I hurt her?  When did she not have my support?  When did I ever demonstrate that I didn’t love her?  How often have I done things to surprise her with my affection?  How much have I tried to make her smile?  Even when I could not smile myself?

Why stay with someone just to treat them like shit?