I think I’m on these waves of depression and anxiety. Some days I’m up and doing just fine and then (mostly) right before that time of the month I get very low and emotional. Not that that is an excuse for all of the things that grip my heart, as I am still very real and affected by all the things that go on around me. I’m so frustrated and getting more so every day. I walk a fine line when it comes to berating the man I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. It’s a fine line there. I want to say so many things but find it hard to spray them here because all you will see is the bad and the ugly. You don’t see the guy who tells me I’m beautiful every day or that he loves me.
Now I’m starting to wonder if he just loves the parts of me that I can give to him and nothing else. What do I mean? He loves the mother in me, because that woman takes care of his kids and picks up all the slack that he does not do. He loves the bookkeeper in me that pays all our bills and plays chess with our money to make it happen. He loves the wife that cleans and cooks and gets the coffee ready almost every night.He loves the worker bee that earns her money and puts in his pot. He loves the party girl who gets tipsy and horny. He loves the workout queen who’s butt gets higher and libido swells. He loves the sexpot that crawls in the bed and doesn’t put up a fuss when he initiates sex. He loves my parts and my heart when it gives to him. However, he doesn’t like the artist that spends all night painting (withholding sex.) He doesn’t like the friend part of me that takes time to listen and comfort my friends when they need it. He doesn’t like the animal rescuer/lover part of me that keeps and spends money on homeless animals that may infringe on part of his space in some way, or that I will stick up for a pet if they have an accident. He ignores the Bookkeeper in me that says we cant afford something or that I need help. He’s not so happy with the workout queen who is exhausted or doesn’t have time for sex, but needs to go run instead or the party girl who wants to go out with the girls instead. He doesn’t like the worker bee as I work during times where he might have to take care of the kids or cook his own dinner. He doesn’t like the volunteer in me that keeps me away from him and might be too tired to have sex. He only likes the rebel in me if it’s going on an adventure safe enough for him.He only likes the lesbian in me if I let him be a part of it. In essence, taking who I am and making it about his pleasure.
I feel like I am once again objectified and pieced apart and not loved as a whole. I feel like each time he paws at me I give more of myself away than I want to, just to keep the peace. I feel like if I don’t feed him the parts of me that he likes, my world would be so volatile that I could not enjoy the other parts at all. (He’s not abusive, but very passive aggressive.) I guess it’s good that I can at least voice these things now. Two years ago I would never have written something like this. I painted my life as perfect except that I liked women. It was perfect only because I was still in character as the wife who put all her own shit aside to please her man. Even my coming out to him was a device for pleasure and not an awakening. I knew I was sad but I buried it so deep that it’s still digging. I want to be happy but I don’t want to force myself into a fake smile and a Facebook friendly version of myself that’s digestible for everyone. I want to be hard to swallow sometimes. I want to be dirty and scream with passion. (That can be taken a few ways.) I want a partner who gives a shit about the things I love. Who will stay awake and make me coffee while I paint or retire to bed without tucking themselves into a sleep full of resentment. I want someone who doesn’t fume at our children for small infractions because they were taught no other way. I want love to pour from their heart for not just me but for humanity. I want the world to matter, not just the microcosm we happen to inhabit. I want kisses with sex, kisses filled with so much passion that they themselves could explode. I need more, so much more and I’m wondering why I do not ask for it all.
Why do I feel like I don’t deserve it? Why do I keep myself from the things that I love? Because it displeases him? Because I’m too busy trying to please everyone that I forget about the one person I have to live with, myself. We all forget to listen to that inner voice. We all forget to stick up for ourselves. My mom basically told me when we were still dating that I wouldn’t get anyone better than this so I better hang on to him. She said that we were “lucky” to find men who would love curvy women like us. UGH!!!! I wasn’t even very curvy then. I was a size 8! I knew then that I was going to marry him. It was in the cards, but I knew that there was more to me than being a wife. I did everything I said I didn’t want to do because I was so afraid to go against what was expected of me. I look back and wonder where that fierce feminist went. I was fiesty yet I never looked up from the playbook to see what it was that I wanted. I was brought up thinking that we could have friends who were gay, family members even, but that it wasn’t really acceptable. My mom wanted to be at my wedding and hold a grand-baby. I found a handsome man who was willing to help me make her happy. How could I say no? With every fiber of my being I was screaming “No” from the inside,albeit, it was buried and muffled. I wouldn’t even acknowledge it. But during my whole wedding I kept thinking about the “one thing” that I hadn’t given myself the permission to explore with the dignity it deserved and now I am lost in it’s reflection.
For now I am contemplative. Wondering where I go from here. How can I unstick myself from this apathy and what will happen when I do?