(The title of this post is a line from an Adele song called “Turning Tables”. I’ve been listening to her while I blog and I feel like her songs mimic what I’m going through right now, so I derive a lot of inspiration from her.)
I woke up today to my husband referring to me as grumpy. He called me grumpy all day but I wasn’t. I wasn’t actually grumpy until I had to leave for work when he had called me grumpy for the umpteenth time. Fuck off. I was fine, until you had to push my fucking buttons.
I left for work early. Before I left, he wanted to kiss and cuddle me, after he had called me grumpy. I wanted to call him an asshole and tell him to fuck off. How dare you ask me to hug you, expect me to kiss you when you’ve spent the day calling me grumpy?
That made him mad, and so he moved his van out of the driveway and I went to work. As I arrived at work, he texted me something so ridiculous that I couldn’t believe he had texted it.
“I’m officially done with you. You are selfish and take advantage of anyone who shows you kindness as well as bully others into getting your way. I’m taking my ring off and would like you to sleep somewhere else tonight. I expect you to be here by 7:45am tomorrow morning not a minute later.”
Um? Thank you, you fucking coward, for letting me know that via text.
I called him on my break and I told him it would be easier if he left, and then on the weekends I would leave so he could spend time with the kids.
“This is my house,”
“No, it’s the kids house.”
“I”m not leaving my house.”
“But you expect me to leave my home and sleep somewhere else?”
He talked to me about how he felt these things every time we fight and that it just needed to be said. “I thought about how you would say it, and you would just say it, no matter what.”
But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t tell him this shit 5 days before Christmas. I wouldn’t just blurt out that I want a divorce 5 days before fucking Christmas. “You would definitely say it, dear,”
“Don’t call me dear, I’m not your dear anymore. I’m not anything to you anymore.”
There was a long silence and he asked me if I had anything else to say.
“Is there something you want me to say? Is there something I should say?”
“Whatever you’re thinking,”
“I don’t feel like we’re compatible.”
I told him I’d see him tomorrow and hung up. Then I called him back and asked him how we were going to explain this to the kids. Because I sure as hell am not going to go to his family’s place for Christmas faking a great big happy smile.
He told me that’s why he didn’t want me to come home tonight, because he didn’t want to be up until 3am talking. He can’t function if he doesn’t have his sleep, and he can’t afford to miss any more work. I get that, but still, it was cold.
He also got pretty upset about me having a bad day. He likened it to me having lazy days and how nothing ever gets done around the house. I seriously hate cleaning. I do the bare minimum. It’s not something I’m proud of, and I’ve tried to make myself better, but it’s so tedious. The bordom of cleaning fucking kills me. It’s not like we live in squalor, but our house could definitely be cleaner, especially with me being home all day. I just have no motivation. None. I think I’m falling into a bit of a funk, perhaps a touch of depression. I hate to admit it, but there it is.
He might know me very well, but he doesn’t really know me though. Later in the night he left a message on my answering machine.
“Listen, I was doing a little bit of thinking and it was wrong of me to ask you to leave your home. I take back what I said about you having to sleep somewhere else tonight, you can come home, this is where you live and I’m not going to make you feel like you don’t have a place to be…I’ll be asleep when you get home.”
When I first read his text, part of me was relieved. The other part of me died.
I’m a nobody. I’m a dependant housewife with retail skills. I have nothing I can offer to support my children. I’ll have to go to financial aid tomorrow and see what, if anything, I’m eligible for. It’s horrible and embarrassing and it’s my own fault.
Right now I’m so sad. I’m so sad and tired. I’m looking at my wedding ring and resenting the way it was given to me. He who wouldn’t even deign to present me with an engagement ring because the very idea of them offends his sensibilities. He who proposed to me the night before our wedding with an engagement ring my mother gave to him just so I could have one. The wedding ring my mom had made for me. I’m getting petty now, but I don’t care anymore. All I wanted was an engagement ring. Of all the things a woman wants (expensive dress, crazy rings, ridiculously outrageously priced weddings), I never wanted anything over the top, nothing crazy expensive. All I wanted was an engagement ring, and it was the one thing he didn’t want to give me.
“I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness, and a wondering eye and heaviness in my head, but don’t you remember, don’t you remember the reason you loved me before?” – Adele, Don’t You Remember
My sister recently told me that she was so happy to be out of her relationship. (They broke up a month ago.) She said that by the end she was eating her cereal as quietly as she could because the sound of the spoon clinking on the bowl would bug the shit out of her (now ex) boyfriend. He would get annoyed with her for making silly faces, which is sad, since she is amazing at making silly faces. Now she’s free. She can eat the way she wants, she can truly be herself.
I want that. I want to be myself. I don’t want to be crucified for being myself. I’m sloppy and forgetful and I don’t care. I’m laid back and there’s a lot of shit I consider unimportant that my husband thinks I should care about. I care about my children, and their welfare. I care that they are clothed and fed properly. I care about my family. I care about my husband. I like to make sure he’s taken care of, I fucking cook and serve his ass dinner. The last time we fought, I didn’t serve him dinner and he didn’t end up eating anything at all. He would rather starve. What the fuck is that? I call that spoiled.
“There’s a side to you that I never knew, never knew, all the things you say they were never true, never true and the games you play, you would always win, always win.” -Adele, Set Fire to the Rain
Why do I put up with it?
Because I love him. When things are good, they’re so good. But our fighting is coming on more frequently and I truly believe when I say that we are not compatible. He told me during our conversation tonight that he deserves better, someone who gives a shit about living in a clean house. And I think I deserve better too. Someone who doesn’t mind that I just don’t like cleaning. Someone who will find my faults endearing and love me for me, instead of being frustrated and angry with me all the time.
We’re supposed to go get a family portrait done on Thursday to give out for Christmas gifts. What the fuck are we supposed to do about that?
I’m tired of caring. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being so hurt. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of being caged.
“God only knows what we’re fighting for, all that I say, you say more. I won’t let you close enough to hurt me no more, no, I won’t ask you, you to just desert me, I can’t give you what you think you gave me, it’s time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables. Next time I’ll be braver, I’ll be my own saviour, when the thunder calls for me, next time I’ll be braver, I’ll be my own saviour, standing on my own two feet” – Adele, Turning Tables