Skeleton #4
I debated whether or not to even write about this. Every time I think I’m going to actually write about it, I feel the familiar emotional dissociation. That’s the beginning to a ritual to self-injure. Last night, I was watching Intervention and it was about an anorexic alcoholic. What I didn’t expect was a scene where she was cutting the crap out of her leg. I was already debating writing about this skeleton as it doesn’t affect just me when I saw that. I truly wondered if I was done with self-injuring. As the familiar numbness started to wash over me, I realized I had to reach out to others. That’s the good thing about Twitter. Those that judge me can just unfollow me. Unfortunately, it’s a double edged sword. I find I am hurt by some of those that follow me. It’s not their fault, it’s mine. Let’s begin…
My marriage of 18 years is in trouble. I am a firm believer in not threatening divorce unless you’re serious. About nine months ago, I reluctantly sat down and had to gently tell my husband that our marriage was in trouble and headed for divorce. It blindsided him. He didn’t see anything wrong with the way things were. He begged for me to agree to marriage counseling. I did reluctantly because at that point, I was done. Something had to give. I was miserable and to be fair, I never complained so he didn’t know there was anything wrong. I know there are two sides to every story, and I was willing to admit my mistakes and work on them. It was the least I could do.
This is very difficult for me to talk about. I feel guilty that he had to marry someone who has a myriad of health problems. I feel I owe it to him to stay married because of all of the sacrifices he had to make. He practically had to take care of a newborn and a two year old alone when I had given up hope of living. It was a symptom of a larger problem. I did not trust my husband. I’m not talking affairs. I’m talking about having my emotions and feelings used against me, silencing of my personality, and being treated as a child and not an equal. In all fairness, I think part of his actions is a result of having to take care of me practically as an invalid for many years.
When we have sex, I am the initiator. There is no true intimacy. It’s not love. It’s just sex. I never have an orgasm, because I don’t feel he deserves to see that vulnerable side of me. I can’t remember the last time he kissed me first or even hugged me. I enjoy sex, don’t get me wrong, but there is no emotional connection for me. I hide feelings that make me vulnerable. I have never forgiven him for two statements he made to me over three years ago. The first statement happened when my neurologist finally found a medication regimen that reduced my migraine frequency to about three days a week. My fun-loving, joking personality started to emerge when I heard this:
“I liked you better sick.”
It hurt me so deeply. It said to me, I don’t like the real you. I liked you better as a non-functioning shell of a person. I want that person who has no opinion, no feelings, no life that I can’t control.
The second comment caused me to permanently hide all emotions from him. I gave up on our relationship when this happened. I had come home from Texas after spending a painful, gut-wrenching, 30 days at SAFE Alternatives to learn not to self-injure and relearn how to feel emotions. I had found my voice, my personality, and the tools to allow myself to feel. I was sitting in front of the computer, like I am now, but I can’t recall exactly what we were talking about. I know R was asking a question which I had already given him the answer to about four times before. I told him to call the person, because I was not going to answer the question again. I wasn’t going to give in to his incessant need to control every little aspect of our lives. He clearly wasn’t listening to me the previous times, and I didn’t think as an adult I had to keep capitulating to him like a child has to submit to a parent. When I stood up to him using the tools I was given in Texas, he said,
“You can go back on vacation to Texas with all your crazy friends and be crazy together with your bullshit.”
I froze. I was wounded. It was no vacation. It was emotionally horrific. I was not crazy. I loved those people there. They weren’t crazy. I struggled to show no emotion, but I couldn’t. I was feeling. I wanted to cut myself right then and there. I promised myself I wouldn’t let other people “make” me do that to myself ever again. I made the decision that night to never let him “know” me ever again. He would never see the intimate side of me. I would keep what is mine. My emotions, my feelings, my intimate orgasms, my love, my dreams, would be held tightly to my chest. He would not be entitled to those ever again. I was miserable with that decision though. I was silencing part of my life that I would never again show to anyone I didn’t trust. It’s like a part of me died that night. Could I live with that decision? Nearly three years later, I can’t.
R is a wonderful loving father. He is extremely reliable. He and I can still joke like friends do. I have a wedding band on my finger from essentially, a roommate. He still has biting sarcasm toward me that I am now fighting back in reaction to it. I did go to marriage counseling because I figured it was only fair since I blindsided him. I didn’t want to go. It was painful. I didn’t trust him. I would be admitting feelings that he could possibly use against me. When it started getting rough for him four months into our weekly sessions, he just didn’t make the next appointment. In my mind, I was off the hook. He also quit going to his own psychologist. When I discussed it with him, he said he was only going because I made him go. Actually at the time, I did tell him I would take the girls and leave if he didn’t start seeing a therapist. Eventually, he quit going to that therapist about the same time he bailed on marriage counseling. So, everything is back to where it was before. The only difference is I call him out on the biting sarcastic comments. I am once again, part of the décor of the house. A convenient friend with benefits kind of relationship.
I turned to a friend a long time ago for the emotional support I needed. He has never judged me for my feelings ever. He has accepted me for who I am. In the beginning, I never let him see what I looked like. I figured once he saw me it would be the end of our relationship on his part. I wasn’t willing to risk that. I mean, I’m not ugly or anything, just overweight. When I finally decided to share my picture, he said,
“You look like Nicole. What’s wrong with that?”
He gave me the courage to trust him and get a webcam. I’m glad I did. I trusted him to be genuine. He’s hilarious, sensitive, and a wonderful friend. He has never crossed the line, and trust me, we can get on each other’s nerves like friends do. But, in the end, we find a way to apologize, make up, and continue on.
So, I took a chance on Twitter. Stayed anonymous and still am to most everyone. I confided in a couple of men who found what they knew of me to be attractive. I risked opening myself up to them by allowing them to see what I looked like and show my feelings. I guess I’m naïve. I was hoping they would accept me the same way. Those guys talked a good game. They both seemed to truly like me, and not care what I looked like. Just once, I wanted to feel beautiful, sexy, loved. Once they saw that picture, everything cooled radically. I felt hurt and rejected. It just reinforces what I already believe. I am this spectacularly wonderful, smart, funny, sexy person, but once the guy sees me, I’m really that ugly, unwanted, unloved person. So, I feel I cannot do any better. I don’t dare divorce, because no one will ever want me or love me again. Have the sterile relationship here at home but have a cohesive family, or divorce and be alone forever. I’d lose the one woman who has been the closest thing to a mother that I’ve longed for. I’d have to leave the place I’ve considered my home for the first time in my entire life. I’d have to split custody of the girls, and I can’t imagine that. I’d lose my lifelong friend. I’ve seen what divorce has done to my oldest sister, and it’s not what I want to feel.
Crashed and burned on Twitter, and I’ve learned an important lesson. Never trust people with my feelings or with what I look like. Never give people my full name. Never think guys truly want the real me. They want the sexy “idea” of me. Fake, fake, fake. Just like my marriage. Fake. A façade, a ruse, a character. Act like nothing is bothering me. Walk through life like an automaton. Don’t trust people with the real me ever.
This post will most likely devastate my husband. That is not my intention. It is the one skeleton I’ve hidden from most everyone and have worked hard to create the illusion of normalcy. I’m sick of pretending. I’m sick of lying to people. I’m sick of trusting guys online only to be burned. I’m sick of hiding behind this bitch exterior. I want to be the person I really am. I don’t want to be afraid to show the real me anymore. I want more in life. I desperately want more. At the time I write this, it is less than one week before I turn 40 years old. I cannot spend another 20 years being that other “sick” and depressed person with no voice, no personality. I need to live. If you can’t accept me, I don’t need you. Goodbye...
Posted by kitterztoo at 12/29/2009 3:19 PM 
Categories: Skeletons
Tags: men secrets friends cutting trust self injury self worth husband feelings twitter facade marriage emotions discovery 40 blog divorce anonymity
Categories: Skeletons
Tags: men secrets friends cutting trust self injury self worth husband feelings twitter facade marriage emotions discovery 40 blog divorce anonymity
I'm new to your blog, but I feel like I know you. Not "know you" like I'm trying to figure out your identity, but like I know your spirit already. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself so honestly. I, too, suffer from depression and psoriasis, as well as the aftermath of several hockey-related injuries over the years. I, too, am in a marriage that seems less-than-fulfilling at times, although my wife is the love of my life and my best friend. We've committed to seeing our crazy partnership through to the end. We have two sons, 9 and 8, and parenting is the greatest adventure, isn't it? It took me 12 years to get my BA from Western Michigan University. (Four-year degree, my ass!) Just wanted to let you know there is someone out here who appreciates you and who is looking forward to reading more.
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Yes, I totally agree with the stupid four year plan. Some do it in five, but there was no way I was going to make it. Coursework was just tough for me. I really appreciate your kind thoughts! I've discovered I feel emotions more intensely than others do. Places, people, situations, really make a lasting imprint on me. I am just sharing it with the world. Thanks for reading!
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You know I love you, girl...You're one of the few that know the real me now, also...
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