Another 19 Years

Another 19 Years

It’s another 19-year milestone! YAY!! (not!)

It’s not one that I am happy about or proud of, but this past Monday marked the beginning of my 20th year of spending eternity with The Husband (previously referred to as: Mr. Doom-n-Gloom). It was even more awkward because I had the day off from work in observance of Veteran’s Day…

It was the anniversary of our 19th year together and do you know what we did to celebrate? Not a fucking thing!
Do you know where we went? No fucking where.
Not really a surprise, though. Neither one of us are really “into” this “marriage-thing” any more (and like I have stated before: I don’t think The Husband ever was).

I made him caramel rolls from scratch for breakfast and I was the one who cooked the family dinner that day. Normally he is the one who makes dinner… I cleaned up the kitchen and then tried to stay away from his stupid, pouty ass for the afternoon (in case this was going to be “one of those days” that seem to come more and more frequently). I didn’t buy him anything or get him something physical — he’s so difficult to shop for now that we have lost touch with each other completely. Every once in a while I can find something that’s really “up his alley”, but usually those things are very expensive and I would rather drop that kind of money on my daughters — so I make him things that he doesn’t get to have regularly.

He bought me a coffee mug with 3 packets of Chai Tea and a Christmas Cactus. He gave them to me last Saturday morning. The tea was good, the mug was cute, the plant was okay — but he always gets me plants off the sale rack, then they die (is that a sign?).

I feel like I am downplaying his gifts and uplifting mine (I probably am — but this is MY blog, right?) but I liked what he gave me (except maybe for the plant that will die soon ;)). It was inexpensive and a little bit thoughtful. I am thankful.

I said “Happy Anniversary” twice (once when he got home from work in the morning and once when he woke up and I gave him his caramel rolls). He didn’t say it at all.

NOT ONCE did we come into physical contact with each other.

I guess that I can be happy with the fact that I have stayed married to this stinky, lazy, incompetent, immature, emotionally-vacant, inconsiderate, self-centered son of a bitch for 20 mother-fucking years! That’s a long-ass time to stay with a husband who won’t fuck you more than once every 12 months, or so! (it’s been almost 3 years this time, but that’s because I stopped caring about it or trying to get him to want me)

Go, Me!

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19 Years

19 Years

I had an epiphany when I was out on my lunch walk yesterday…

My life is happening in 19 year segments.

ACT I – The first 19 years of my life I lived with my parents. I was raised in a very stable household. Insanely so, like one of those hermetically sealed bubbles. And nothing I ever did was ever good enough. You all know the story: If I got an A, I was asked about the A+. They would sign me up for sports and classes without thinking about whether I would like it or if I would be good at it. I was the same level in Tap Dance classes for over 4 years – the instructor actually had to pull my mother aside to tell her that I am not a good tap dancer and that it’s not good to keep me in the baby class any more… Then there was:

  • Basketball (because I was tall when I was young – I got decimated out there!)
  • Swimming (I can swim well and far, just not fast)
  • Piano (yay, I actually could do this one! Even though I feel short of my parents’ expectations yet again, it made me very proud of myself.)
  • College Math classes in High School (I am smart, but I kind of need to have the core knowledge before I can work out college-level Probability classes. Hello!)
  • Babysitting for the neighbors (First, they signed me up for babysitting classes when I was 12. As soon as those were finished, they would volunteer me all the fucking time! They key word here being: volunteer. This went on up until and beyond when I got a “real job” – after that we had some very heated arguments on obligations. I don’t remember what they said to me. In fact, I don’t give a shit what they said because they were wrong!)

No matter what they picked for me to do, I could never do it as well as my parents felt I should have. It was such a relief when I finally turned 16 and could get my own job that I wanted because I picked it! Then, even more of a relief when I graduated high school so I could get the fuck out of there and begin…

…the second 19 years of my life – ACT II. I met my husband, married him and had two lovely daughters. I struggled though things pretty much just enough to get by and that’s about it. I didn’t love myself, but I didn’t hate myself either. I had no desire, drive or passion to do pretty much anything. When I look back on it now, it seems like I was lost somewhere but I was perfectly content staying that way – I felt anonymous, unimportant, tedious and boring, but also comfortable being that way.

Then, there was a couple of years of meth-amphetamine abuse (sadness…) I want to, but I can’t entirely blame it on my husband, I chose to do it. But he is the one that introduced it to the home and kept bringing it home and giving it to me. It started to get kind of scary, not really scary, but scary enough. I had kids! I needed to start thinking about them! I had a couple of seizures – that helped kick me in the ass and quit the meth, and my husband stopped bringing it home (he still did it, though. I think he still does it on occasion). We moved to a completely different state; away from my asshole family and the meth. During ACT II, I wasn’t told I was inadequate so much as just not told I was adequate – or anything at all. Whenever my husband said the words, “I love you” I never once felt that he knew what love meant. I still think that he confuses need with love. Regardless, ACT II was better than ACT I. I have the most wonderful daughters! And even though I can’t stand the husband-person in my life any longer, he has helped me to evolve into me.

He probably wouldn’t appreciate what he has taught me — if he even knew or cared about my personal/emotional growth (which I am convinced that he doesn’t). Those lessons have driven me farther from him. Those lessons showed me that all I needed was a responsible and dependable adult-type person, whose opinion I respected, to simply start telling me what an awesome person I am. I really needed someone to help me learn that I truly am a vital, intelligent, exciting and sexy woman.

I found that special adult-type person in ACT III: where I am right now. The third 19 years of my life, which is just beginning. So I don’t have much to write about. I can say that like it so far. There is this wonderful man in my life constantly telling me how awesome I am. Not only does he tell me – he fucking SHOWS me! Also, I think that man is pretty awesome his damn self. He is helping me learn that I am a vital, intelligent, exciting and sexy woman. He taught me that I am not just adequate, but that I am “wonder-furrr”… This one man has, inadvertently, taught me more about myself than anyone (and everyone) else had ever before. He showed me that I am worth it, that I am meaningful — he shows me that every single time we’re together. He’s shown me that even though he needs me for some things, he can be there when I need him, too. I can depend on him. He is responsible. He is my sexy Loverman…

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