What the FUCK is wrong with me? A nun posted an encouraging post on my husband's Facebook status and I felt jealousy. A nun!!! I had to go check her page to make sure she really was a nun.
I feel so insecure in our relationship. I want so much to feel intimate and connected with him. I want our conversations to be free and easy, spontaneous instead of guarded. It's like we've knitted so much potential danger and meanings into everything that we can't express ourselves without meticulously weighing every word.
Yesterday, he told me not to spend money. I told him I didn't have any to spend (agreeing with him). He got defensive and said he was just telling me we didn't have much in the bank. I told him I was just agreeing with him. He stomped out the door. Thankfully, he came right back and told me he loved me. I know we're both trying. But it's so hard.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Thursday, January 05, 2012
No More Mrs. Nice Guy
Last night was really bad. You were so angry, really really angry. I just let you stew in the hopes you'd work through whatever you were upset about. You went and took a long nap and seemed okay when you came back down. You even leaned over and kissed me. I thought that was nice. Then you watched the WVU-Clemson game and used the laptop as well as IMing whoever was on Facebook chat. Suddenly, you were furious again. You stomped upstairs, leaving with a snide remark about me coming to bed whenever I was ready. Then you started texting me. Bombarding me with texts, in fact. I couldn't keep up with them but I tried. I'd be halfway through a text and receive one, then two from you while I was still typing. Eventually, my text inbox filled up and I couldn't receive any more texts at all, nor could I tell you that fact until I emptied some out.
I can't delete an entire chat text, just an individual text one at a time, once my inbox is full. So here I was, trying to delete each individual text and confirm each deletion so I could read the last two-three-four texts you'd sent, and you sent even more. Which backed up the queue even more and not only that, bounced me out of where I was and made me have to start over deleting. Needless to say, I was frustrated.
Then you came downstairs, complaining. I explained. You fumed, telling me you had chest pains and knew warning signs for a heart attack. I told you to take an aspirin, two times I said that. You asked me if I wanted to go to counseling when I shared the 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse article by John Gottman. I said of course I did, that you were supposed to find us a counselor six months ago because you didn't want to go see anyone I chose. More noise. You reminded me that you want me to come to you when you're depressed/upset/angry and hold you and comfort you. You reminded me that you've told me this a zillion times. Yes, I know. And every time I've done that, you've either said in a mean tone that you don't want me to touch you, or you've coldly ignored me and not hugged back or relaxed or acknowledged my coming to you in any way.
I even read a lot of information about dealing with someone who has PTSD. It all says to leave you alone when you're withdrawing, to not press you to interact, to not chase you or follow you.
I've tried it both ways. Neither seems to work. You claim you want me to pursue you and comfort you, when really all you want to do is punish me for doing it. I refuse to leave myself open for abuse of that sort any more. I'm sorry you feel so upset, lonely, angry, frustrated, etc. I do, too. But you cannot take it out on me any more and have me just sit by and take it.
Then you said you don't believe I love you at all because I don't convince you that I do. I asked you what about the fact that the rest of the time, you say how I love you so much more than you love me? You told me that I just don't get it. You're right.
Then you started in on the house and why didn't I clean the house. I asked you why don't YOU clean the house? It's a valid point. I am not the housemaid here. I am a family member just like you are, and you are obviously the one who is having problems with the condition of the house -- not me. So you have to throw in my face how my house was when you met me. That's it; don't address anything I say. Insult me, degrade me, use your words to hurt me.
I finally was just shellshocked to the extent I could no longer talk. I refuse to say mean things. I am not going to lower myself to that level. So when there is nothing left to say but expressing frustration in a negative way, I choose not to talk at all. Eventually, I just wandered upstairs and went to bed about a quarter to two.
This morning you're all nice and sweet and apologetic. And I am just not interested in apologies right now. I feel beaten. You texted me that you wanted us to turn off all electronic devices as soon as you get home. Well, no. That's not okay. I am not ready to curl up and be intimate yet. I am still reeling from abuse, to be honest. And I feel contrary. I don't want you to decide when I turn off my "device" and be at your beck and call when you can't even have a conversation with me about anything deeper than who paid what bill when.
I think I have changed. I used to be free and easy and open and expressed myself easily. Then you complained and insulted me, chiding me about how rude I was, and how uncouth I was, etc. You even said the other day that nobody could "fucking stand" me because I am so mean to everyone. When I asked who, you named your sister and your aunt. I reminded you that I was always nice to your aunt until YOU told me what nasty things she said about me, which caused me not to like her. And I reminded you how mean your sister has always been to me and pointed out that I have been as pleasant to her as I could possibly be with the ONE exception of the comment I made that one time about her behavior in the military to get ahead being the equivalent of prostituting herself. And for that, I apologized and acknowledged that I was out of line for saying it.
Instead, I have spent the last (?) fifteen or so years stuffing my feelings and opinions and smiling and being pleasant to people. I have specifically avoided expressing opinions that were controversial or possibly debate-inducing. I listen to you express whatever opinions you have and I pay attention. I stopped being controversial. I became "nice." And now you complain that I'm not interesting. You describe how interesting M. is, how her ideas are so controversial and you love to argue with her. I'm not a bit jealous of M. Not at all. But I think I see how it is.
You want to argue. You want to debate. You want the conflict. You think you don't, you say you don't, but you do. You thrive on it. As long as you win. Because when I make points that are right, you ALWAYS change the subject and usually change it into a direct attack on me.
I am tired of being Mrs. Nice Guy. I don't give two shits about what your sister or aunt think about me. And you shouldn't either. You're my husband, I'm your wife. We're supposed to be a team. We're supposed to be on the same side, back-to-back, against the world. I don't know where your conflicts lie as far as your family is concerned, but I know this: I am tired of stuffing who I am with zero payoff.
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
Different Strokes
I am so tired of trying to please you. This has been the stupidest thing I've ever done, is to try and please somebody else. I know better, too. I feel as though I bend over backwards, constantly, trying to please you, and you don't acknowledge it (or see it). You decide what will be on TV, how loud it will be, when you will change it in mid-show or song -- never mind who else is watching or present. Do you really think I give a flying flip about college football?? But you want me to sit beside you and be near you, so I endure it because I love you.
You bitched about me watching "Law and Order" so much. It just so happened that both of us like that show. I made a conscious effort to find something you liked, too, so we could share the experience. Because of the negative associations I now have with L&O, I don't even enjoy it any more. Do you realize you often ridicule any and everything I do?
You complain about my driving. I'm not that crazy about yours, either, truth be told. You turn into traffic far too close to other cars, like when you make left turns across traffic. You curse and rave and rant at least half the time you're driving. It amazes me. Your blood pressure must be sky high when you drive. You steer to avoid potholes but almost always hit them anyway, causing me to be thrown sideways and then bumped on top of it. I can't count the times you've driven up over the curb. But hey, people have different ways of driving than others. I don't mention these things to complain -- I mention them because I never do mention them because I rarely think about them, and then if I would ever bring it up, you'd ask me what it was and I wouldn't remember. So now I have recorded some of them and can come back to this post for reference.
It's funny how different people's perspectives are. For instance, you constantly complain about feeling old/hating "old things." You despise my purse, for example, even though I carefully researched fashion trends and bought a fashionable style. Heck, the purse I had before this one was fine, too; you just decided that it was old-fashioned and hated it,too.
You wear T-shirts, won't cut your hair or trim your beard, wear bandanas on your head. Do you think that makes you look young?? I think not. I have opinions on how you look, but I keep them to myself unless you ask me what I think because people are entitled to express their style the way they see fit. I am just glad that you -- for the MOST PART -- stopped wearing ballcaps all the time. You still buy one at least once a month and they lay around everywhere. But thank God, you don't wear them constantly any more. And thank YOU.
Everyone has their own perception of what "old" is. For me, listening to classical music on public radio reminds me of my father; hence, it seems old. But you listen to classical music and it seems cool to you. I like classical music; that's not the point. The point is, it makes me feel old to sit and listen to it all the time. So when we're in the car and you change the station to classical music, just know that I am sitting there feeling ancient. I don't say anything because this shouldn't be your problem. It is my issue with classical music, not yours. So why should I impose my feelings on you? I can deal with my own feelings. I just wish you would deal with yours -- about my purse, my hair color, my hair style, my decision to wear or not wear makeup, my clothing, etc.
You bitched about me watching "Law and Order" so much. It just so happened that both of us like that show. I made a conscious effort to find something you liked, too, so we could share the experience. Because of the negative associations I now have with L&O, I don't even enjoy it any more. Do you realize you often ridicule any and everything I do?
You complain about my driving. I'm not that crazy about yours, either, truth be told. You turn into traffic far too close to other cars, like when you make left turns across traffic. You curse and rave and rant at least half the time you're driving. It amazes me. Your blood pressure must be sky high when you drive. You steer to avoid potholes but almost always hit them anyway, causing me to be thrown sideways and then bumped on top of it. I can't count the times you've driven up over the curb. But hey, people have different ways of driving than others. I don't mention these things to complain -- I mention them because I never do mention them because I rarely think about them, and then if I would ever bring it up, you'd ask me what it was and I wouldn't remember. So now I have recorded some of them and can come back to this post for reference.
It's funny how different people's perspectives are. For instance, you constantly complain about feeling old/hating "old things." You despise my purse, for example, even though I carefully researched fashion trends and bought a fashionable style. Heck, the purse I had before this one was fine, too; you just decided that it was old-fashioned and hated it,too.
You wear T-shirts, won't cut your hair or trim your beard, wear bandanas on your head. Do you think that makes you look young?? I think not. I have opinions on how you look, but I keep them to myself unless you ask me what I think because people are entitled to express their style the way they see fit. I am just glad that you -- for the MOST PART -- stopped wearing ballcaps all the time. You still buy one at least once a month and they lay around everywhere. But thank God, you don't wear them constantly any more. And thank YOU.
Everyone has their own perception of what "old" is. For me, listening to classical music on public radio reminds me of my father; hence, it seems old. But you listen to classical music and it seems cool to you. I like classical music; that's not the point. The point is, it makes me feel old to sit and listen to it all the time. So when we're in the car and you change the station to classical music, just know that I am sitting there feeling ancient. I don't say anything because this shouldn't be your problem. It is my issue with classical music, not yours. So why should I impose my feelings on you? I can deal with my own feelings. I just wish you would deal with yours -- about my purse, my hair color, my hair style, my decision to wear or not wear makeup, my clothing, etc.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Couch Surfing
I am a small, small person. Almost a year ago, we (read: my husband) loaned a friend of ours (read: mostly his and mine only by default despite my efforts to expand the relationship) over $1500. She promised she would repay us by the end of the year. Well, the end of the year is here and not a cent has been repaid. She has "no money." Where is she now? At the beach. On vacation. Posting gorgeous photos of the ocean and the beachline while we sit in dark, dreary wintery WV.
I find myself feeling envyish. And angry. I would like to be sitting on a warm sunny beach right now, instead of on the sofa with my laptop watching "Back to the Future." But mostly, I feel envy. And I do not like that in myself. It is very unlike me. So on top of feeling angry and envyish, I now feel guilty as well. Thanks a lot, "friend."
I find myself feeling envyish. And angry. I would like to be sitting on a warm sunny beach right now, instead of on the sofa with my laptop watching "Back to the Future." But mostly, I feel envy. And I do not like that in myself. It is very unlike me. So on top of feeling angry and envyish, I now feel guilty as well. Thanks a lot, "friend."
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sharing
You can't seem to share things with me. I don't mean food, etc., I mean experiences. You send me links to the music you're listening to, and I stop and listen to them and reply to you what I think. So I send you links. You ignore my links and continue listening to your songs and sending more links. What's with that?!?
The one thing that upsets me most is we don't seem to connect. I am desperate to share with you. I find things that interest me and I try to tell you about them, or share them with you. You tell me you're not interested in those things. In other words, you're not interested in me. That's the only conclusion I can draw. You don't find me interesting any more.
You isolate me. You keep me at arm's length, and then wonder why I don't feel intimate. Figure it out.
The one thing that upsets me most is we don't seem to connect. I am desperate to share with you. I find things that interest me and I try to tell you about them, or share them with you. You tell me you're not interested in those things. In other words, you're not interested in me. That's the only conclusion I can draw. You don't find me interesting any more.
You isolate me. You keep me at arm's length, and then wonder why I don't feel intimate. Figure it out.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Love Hurts
I sometimes wonder how much pain one person can survive. I guess it's way more than I realize. Or want to.
I can't even go into details; I'm just too drained. Why does Love have to hurt so much?!?
I can't even go into details; I'm just too drained. Why does Love have to hurt so much?!?
Lonely
I am so incredibly lonely. I hate the distance between us. I try repeatedly to connect with you, and my efforts fall flat. Repeatedly. You always ask for examples, and I can never think of one. So I'll write one down and maybe I will remember it when you ask.
Yesterday, I found that BBC video about Christ and Buddhism. It was so fascinating to me, and I wanted to share it with you. Eventually, you said you already knew all that, that you learned it at UT years ago. This, without watching the video, mind you. I urged that there was so much more to the video, but you let that fall flat. Obviously, you had no intention of watching it. So I asked you, if you knew such a thing already, why didn't you ever mention it to me? Didn't you find it interesting enough to share something so profound with me? You replied "Do you know how much I have going on in my head at all times?!?!!"
Well, I have a lot going on in my head at all times, too. And yet, when I learn something interesting, my first instinct is to share it with you, my lover, my partner, the one I have chosen to share my life with.
You, on the other hand, seem to keep as much of your life away from me as you can. You make your phone calls in the car or outside ("I get better reception there"), yet you talk plenty when someone calls you and you're sitting on the couch. You can talk with A. for an hour about all sorts of topics, but if I bring something up, you sit and gawk at me silently, or at the most, grunt. No "Why do you feel that way?" or "Yes, I knew that. What do you think about that?" or "I think x about that, and this is why." You treat me like I'm stupid and uninteresting.
And I feel sad about it.
Yesterday, I found that BBC video about Christ and Buddhism. It was so fascinating to me, and I wanted to share it with you. Eventually, you said you already knew all that, that you learned it at UT years ago. This, without watching the video, mind you. I urged that there was so much more to the video, but you let that fall flat. Obviously, you had no intention of watching it. So I asked you, if you knew such a thing already, why didn't you ever mention it to me? Didn't you find it interesting enough to share something so profound with me? You replied "Do you know how much I have going on in my head at all times?!?!!"
Well, I have a lot going on in my head at all times, too. And yet, when I learn something interesting, my first instinct is to share it with you, my lover, my partner, the one I have chosen to share my life with.
You, on the other hand, seem to keep as much of your life away from me as you can. You make your phone calls in the car or outside ("I get better reception there"), yet you talk plenty when someone calls you and you're sitting on the couch. You can talk with A. for an hour about all sorts of topics, but if I bring something up, you sit and gawk at me silently, or at the most, grunt. No "Why do you feel that way?" or "Yes, I knew that. What do you think about that?" or "I think x about that, and this is why." You treat me like I'm stupid and uninteresting.
And I feel sad about it.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Men Are Assholes
Since nobody reads this blog anyway, I decided today to use it to vent my frustrations. Who knows? Maybe someday it'll be amusing to look back on from prison after I've been convicted of murder. J/K
Mr. Chandler spent the entire day watching episode after episode of "Band of Brothers." Now, I'm not picky; I can handle a few hours of mindnumbing, uninteresting television shows. I'm open to the fact we are two different people with two diverse sets of interests. But after the sixth hour, you'd think he would consider my feelings and change the station. Oh wait, he did. He put on the Saints football game.
But let me watch one freaking episode of "Millionaire Matchmaker," and he stomps up the steps with "I'm taking a nap." Then he pouts the rest of the day, and makes snarky remarks about it for weeks afterward.
Then there's Christmas Day, a day when it's traditional to eat all kinds of goodies. I baked all day Christmas Eve, and laid out ham slices and rolls, etc., to snack on throughout the festivities. He has the nerve to say to me "I wish you'd lose some weight." Yeah? I wish you'd think about what the hell you say to me, when you say it, and how you say it. Could you pick a worse day? Maybe my birthday?
On another, similar "men are insensitive assholes" note: My brother, who lives across the United States about as far as you can get from here, called me this evening. During our conversation, in which I told him about a long drive I made yesterday including passing the former site of a landmark we had both admired as children -- I tell him it's no longer there, and he immediately corrects me, saying "Oh yes, it is. I saw it a couple of years ago when I was in town. It's just different now." Right. God knows nothing could change in two years, bro. I mean, I *was* just there yesterday. But what the hell do I know? I'm only a lowly female.
If I Tweeted, I'd tweet #menareassholes.
Mr. Chandler spent the entire day watching episode after episode of "Band of Brothers." Now, I'm not picky; I can handle a few hours of mindnumbing, uninteresting television shows. I'm open to the fact we are two different people with two diverse sets of interests. But after the sixth hour, you'd think he would consider my feelings and change the station. Oh wait, he did. He put on the Saints football game.
But let me watch one freaking episode of "Millionaire Matchmaker," and he stomps up the steps with "I'm taking a nap." Then he pouts the rest of the day, and makes snarky remarks about it for weeks afterward.
Then there's Christmas Day, a day when it's traditional to eat all kinds of goodies. I baked all day Christmas Eve, and laid out ham slices and rolls, etc., to snack on throughout the festivities. He has the nerve to say to me "I wish you'd lose some weight." Yeah? I wish you'd think about what the hell you say to me, when you say it, and how you say it. Could you pick a worse day? Maybe my birthday?
On another, similar "men are insensitive assholes" note: My brother, who lives across the United States about as far as you can get from here, called me this evening. During our conversation, in which I told him about a long drive I made yesterday including passing the former site of a landmark we had both admired as children -- I tell him it's no longer there, and he immediately corrects me, saying "Oh yes, it is. I saw it a couple of years ago when I was in town. It's just different now." Right. God knows nothing could change in two years, bro. I mean, I *was* just there yesterday. But what the hell do I know? I'm only a lowly female.
If I Tweeted, I'd tweet #menareassholes.
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Monday, July 23, 2007
Clara Chandler's Black Cards Line
Here's my latest project (really it's my second latest project, but I haven't debuted my latest) -- Black Cards. Check 'em out -- they're droll, they're mean, they're funny.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
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