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  My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| If you just stopped by randomly and have never been here before, take warning, I am feeling more self indulgent than usual and self-pitying, so you may want to avoid the boredom and move on. It's okay. Some days I'm very cheerful, and I don't want to hear others whining either. This year I have found myself thinking about my failed marriage and my ex-husband too much. I'm surprised by how much anger I still feel after all these years. He's been dead 9 years, and we were divorced before that. I'm still angry with myself for tolerating him too long, for allowing him to affect my self-esteem, and waste so many years of my life. I can never regain those lost decades. That's essentially what they were, "lost". I was consumed with taking care of a selfish, self-centered man who could not be there for me when I needed him most. I sacrificed my own health and well-being to placate him. You would think I would have boxed up all those feelings and moved on by now. maybe it's because I've crossed a milestone in my life, and I'm looking back at broken dreams and goals that can never be reached now. Maybe it's because I felt so much shame then, because I tried to hide from my family how miserable I was. Or maybe he's my scape goat that I'm blaming for having fallen so short of what I had hoped to accomplish. If it would help to have a punching bag, I would. I don't feel like crying any more. That grieving part is over. But all this anger. All this time thinking about it. If only I could just dump it out, like emptying a junk drawer, and toss it out, and forget it. I can't make up for lost time. I quit sewing for him. I quit playing guitar because it made him feel inadequate, and he would sulk. I didn't entertain because he was too moody, and guests would be uncomfortable. So we didn't have friends from that time period; we didn't go out either unless his good mood could hold out long enough. I didn't write during that time, and barely read. As his mind got worse, my life got darker and more confined. Moving 70 miles away was the first step back to sanity, but it also resulted in joblessness and loss of finances. I was totally dependent on my widowed father. I thought then that I might have my own home again some day, but that is never going to happen. I am old, wrinkled, full of aches and pains. I've taken classes, I've learned new things, but somehow I still feel anchored to those old resentments, to anger and loss. I have tried forgiving him, and maybe I have. I understand that he was mentally ill and going downhill. Can I forgive myself for getting caught in the undertow, for trying too hard to be a good wife when it wasn't really possible? Maybe that's why I'm so consumed with the concept of not living in survival mode now. During my marriage and divorce, I was definitely in survival mode. And it took a lot of energy. I don't miss the drama or the shame. I don't want to keep living with the scars, the regrets, all that anger. I want to leave it all alone, like someone who has to leave the war or captivity behind and just move on. I have a good life. I just want to stop the anger, the memories, the regrets. Wishful thinking won't wipe the slate clean. I'll never get the chance to live those years over. I'll just see where all this anger and remembering takes me. |
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