Day 38: Fish Out Of Water
I was eating spaghetti with my Mom today, discussing my stepson with her. Well, myself in relation to him. He's almost 15. 15 is when I first became REALLY, HEAVILY involved with another human being. It scares me to think that he is that grown up, because sometimes I still feel like I'm 15.
He's had unhealthy relationships with most females, which leads me to believe that he'll be an asshole to the girls. I mentioned this, and stated that he would only attract girls like me. "Or like what I used to be," I corrected.
"Why don't you have any self-esteem?" my mom queried, the question hanging between us like spiderwebs in the inescapable humidity.
Try as I might, I just couldn't come up with a good answer for her. Or for me, more importantly. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE. It's just there. Like a piece of bread stuck in your throat.
My instinct is to go back to my college years, when I was dating Michael. I can chalk our cumulative stupidity up to youth, but I have a harder time forgiving his roommate. He of the incessant assholery. Long term mindfucking. I wonder about that.
But I also wonder if it had to do with isolated incidents. Jim Brew in 8th grade. Embarrassing me time and time again in front of my peers to an extreme that for sure would get him expelled (or at the very least suspended) today.
Before Dick, I was a doormate for wounded men who knew of no other way to make themselves feel better than to rip me apart. I let them in my life, in my finances, in my bed, in my head. That I recognize it scares me, because I did absolutely nothing to stop it. Or maybe it is only know that we are married that I CAN SEE it.
But I don't know that there is any one thing that has robbed me of something that my family (immediate and extended) and Dick have struggled to help me find. When I was younger, I used to feel like it was some kind of inextinguishable fire, simultaneously numbed and fueled by alcohol. And don't get me wrong - there are days when I still feel like it will EAT ME UP - but I try and keep her at bay, not the bar.
I don't know why I am so critical. I'd like to say that I came by it honestly, as my mom terms it, but that would be unfair - my family has done nothing BUT support me. At this point, the turmoil is internal, and has turned me into a mean drunk, as my mom keeps repeating (I cannot even tell you how much I hate to hear that.), maybe one of these days it will be off her chest.
I guess I'm saying that I just don't know what it is; only that I am trying to find it.
Jane Says: You don't succeed because you hesitate.
He's had unhealthy relationships with most females, which leads me to believe that he'll be an asshole to the girls. I mentioned this, and stated that he would only attract girls like me. "Or like what I used to be," I corrected.
"Why don't you have any self-esteem?" my mom queried, the question hanging between us like spiderwebs in the inescapable humidity.
Try as I might, I just couldn't come up with a good answer for her. Or for me, more importantly. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE. It's just there. Like a piece of bread stuck in your throat.
My instinct is to go back to my college years, when I was dating Michael. I can chalk our cumulative stupidity up to youth, but I have a harder time forgiving his roommate. He of the incessant assholery. Long term mindfucking. I wonder about that.
But I also wonder if it had to do with isolated incidents. Jim Brew in 8th grade. Embarrassing me time and time again in front of my peers to an extreme that for sure would get him expelled (or at the very least suspended) today.
Before Dick, I was a doormate for wounded men who knew of no other way to make themselves feel better than to rip me apart. I let them in my life, in my finances, in my bed, in my head. That I recognize it scares me, because I did absolutely nothing to stop it. Or maybe it is only know that we are married that I CAN SEE it.
But I don't know that there is any one thing that has robbed me of something that my family (immediate and extended) and Dick have struggled to help me find. When I was younger, I used to feel like it was some kind of inextinguishable fire, simultaneously numbed and fueled by alcohol. And don't get me wrong - there are days when I still feel like it will EAT ME UP - but I try and keep her at bay, not the bar.
I don't know why I am so critical. I'd like to say that I came by it honestly, as my mom terms it, but that would be unfair - my family has done nothing BUT support me. At this point, the turmoil is internal, and has turned me into a mean drunk, as my mom keeps repeating (I cannot even tell you how much I hate to hear that.), maybe one of these days it will be off her chest.
I guess I'm saying that I just don't know what it is; only that I am trying to find it.
Jane Says: You don't succeed because you hesitate.
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on Wednesday, June 28, 2006 at 8:00 PM.
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