Breaking the Sugar Coating: With a Mallet

My husband is in the living room working on his computer. Now that the summer is over he is in his office more. That translates to underfoot during my workday. This “in my way” feeling is common among the married crew I talk to. I hate to bitch about it, because I do like that he is around, but the anvil weight that is created from the tension is slowly suffocating me. Miss Carry is the only one (aside from my amazing readers) that knows of any of my pain. The heartaches, the anger and the daily stress of living all of these roles. Don’t misunderstand me. My family is aware that I am under stress. What none of them realize is the plain truth of it – I am almost exhausted. I feel like Forest Gump running. I know I am not nearly done with the journey and I know I can’t stop. Daily I feel like I can run no further.

If my husband would move upstairs  I feel like we would be taking a positive step toward some stability. (we own a two family home with an additional in-law apartment-a compound of sorts) As things stand now, I have essentially moved to the couch and we still “share a room”. He recently moved his office and asked me to go buy him a bed for it, I wasn’t in the mood that day to buy my husband a bed for his office. I am afraid what he doesn’t understand is that our life through most people’s eyes hasn’t changed. All they see is me writing furiously or furiously behaving. Some hear me telling how wonderful it is that we respect and love each other and our children so much that we will continue to raise them together. MOST see me furiously behaving.

They. Here we go again. They, know I go out at night. They know, “I don’t work” during the day. They, know my first husband is a good “friend” and we hang out often at night. They, know  my children are bright and percosios. They know I am always at wits end. And most of them, they think I am spoiled.

Honestly, ninety-nine percent of the people I know adore and respect my husband – with good reason; he deserves it and I am his PR agent on this end. My fear today is that this manager can no longer keep up with keeping it all together for too many more years. I don’t believe I can keep up the smokescreens forever. And quite frankly my kids are going to hate me for being a hypocrite at some point. I am feeling very trapped.

{Unlike the asshole rat that still resides on my property}

Speaking of residents that won’t leave; I’ll tackle some of that issue as it pertains to some of the slowness of our “room” separation. My sister Sweet Dee lives in the condo upstairs. She has for about five years. As of today she is supposed to be out in January. She and my husband do not like one another. She treats him like a douchebag.  Mostly she treats everybody like that. She is depressed with low self-esteem.

{Dee is many things and I love her more than I can describe right now}

Staying on topic, she treats people like shit and I can’t continue to mop up for her. In the past couple months I don’t even want to introduce her to people because I don’t want to deal with whatever drama will ensue. I have gone to bat, made excuses and seriously made some mistakes with relationships defending her honor. I can’t defend the shit storm she created this time. My husband does not want her in the house when he is home. I don’t blame him. I need to respect that. Period.

That’s not to say – here’s the point – running defense all day long  between who is in the house and who isn’t???

{Did I mention she quit her job recently?}

These people are fucking killing me! To boot – it is liking being jabbed and petted constantly. They sense my tension. Like animals the two of them are overcompensating by wanting to be near me and then jabbing me with passive aggressive beatings. I don’t even think they realize they do it. What I do know is that it’s really a pain in my ass and hurts my feelings.

{That by the way many think I don’t have “feelings” for some reason}

The situation is like not saying “no” not loud enough for a very long time. It’s not, “No –  I don’t love you both and want you in my life daily”, it’s more of, “No, I need some boundaries now because I have meshed so completely with the two of you that I can’t find myself anymore!”  I am not taking care of myself as well anymore. I don’t have the energy to train and count grams of protein these days.

{No worries, I don’t look like a bag of shit, I just feel like one.I feel like I have aged 5 years in the past year and a half}

In my life I have felt at wit’s end physically and emotionally plenty of times. It is not a feeling I am unfamiliar with.  I have battled addictions and eating disorders. I have endured and survived sexual abuse and attack. My entire life was based on impending doom and fears of things I could not control until I started taking a small dose of medication. Go figure.

Really? I was just approached by Sweet Dee in my driveway to be told that I was polluting the planet by keeping my car on for my stupid needs. Smoking, music and heat. Remember, I work in my car for smoking and fewer interuptions. Fucking nonsensical morons in this house I swear!

This situation is a totally different kind of dying. A different strain of anxiety. A pressing need to protect my family and be a good mother. I have responsibilities that I feel are starting to be compromised by my constant stroking of other people’s egos. I am willing to take responsibility for my participation in this clusterfuck.

When I decided to have children, I knew I had an ideal for my family. Everybody has an ideal. A dreamy way they believe a family should look like. Inside my house looks a lot like I wanted it to look like. It hasn’t “felt” right for many years. I am only beginning to admit that to myself. I haven’t felt desire from my husband in probably nine years at least. I’m not saying I don’t feel love. He loves me endlessly. Just not that type of desired love. It’s never been there. Desire. Physically, three times since we married. Two kids and a termination. The termination was a direct result of my not wanting to bear more responsibility. Period. I have since been dreaming of a new ideal.

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to make any of it reality if nobody else will make a move. I am busy keeping my kids on the upside of normal. Only recently starting to tell the girl to stay away from the dummies in class and that I am not paying for you to learn from the retards at school or their parents. Along with sorry kid you’re gonna have some asshole teachers. Realistically they are going to have to learn some street smarts from me. They aren’t getting enough because I am so fucking busy pussy-footing around with everybody else’s baggage.

My goal is to start calling in the contractors and start renovating around my sister to keep her ass on fire and start stating more of the facts in my household. Everybody needs to feel love and needs to hear more of the truth. My favorite dessert forever was creme brûlée. I loved to gently crack the crispy sweet darkened sugar on top. I loved the smell of the burn, and the sublime crunch of sugar between my teeth. Similarly I like to picture that as the coating I have given my family over the years and I need to begin to softly break down the coating. I want them to know me. I am sometimes proud of what I have accomplished. I want them and me to feel the comfort and joy in a home. The warm feeling of an old orange afghan wrapped around their shoulders and home made chicken soup. I need to break out a mallet.

*Shortly after I wrote this entry an entire gammet of cards began falling all over the place. There has been a theft amongst other issues. I will do a follow up story and continued Tweets to keep you updated on the progression of events as we had to evict my sister from the premises. It is a heartbreaking day for me.


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