Music of the moment: Amish Paradise : Weird Al Yankovic

So here we are with yet another entry. Isn�t that amazing? *chuckles*

I was reading Rick�s diary this morning, at about 5am when I woke up. I went through about 25 entries, I�d say, and there were things that I thought of, spurred by his comments in regard to specific life situations in his marriage. I got to thinking about my own marriage and if perhaps, my ex had some of the same thoughts as did/does Rick. I know that the woman he describes smacks of me all over the place.

So, I�ve been thinking all day. Yes, I do that. I binge on some specific person�s diary and I internalize and see if there are ways in which I can learn even one thing from what they have experienced. In this case, It sounds a lot like his wife is going through the same things I�ve gone through just recently. And, by recently, I mean over the past few years. Four or so to be exact.

There were many comments made, but the one that sticks out most? He stated that his wife felt �nothing�.

Music of the moment: Someone to Watch Over Me : Nina Simone

Nothing. That�s so familiar to me. There was so much time that passed between that day that I promised to do everything I could do to be a good wife, and the day I finally realized who and what I was. There were many, many mistakes I made. And, Rick, if you read this specific entry, know that I am compassionate toward your predicament. I am very, very happy that your wife is waking up now, while you�re still married... while you are still willing to work on the marriage.

*smiles softly*

I�ve talked about my ex in this diary so many times, and I�ve stated some of the things he did wrong. I�ve also firmly attested to the fact that it wasn�t his fault in entirety. Duncan was not a bad man. And I hurt him very, very deeply. I didn�t realize how deeply until just a little while ago.

Music of the moment: Please Don�t Let Me Be Misunderstood : Nina Simone

My ex wasn�t perfect. No one is. But as bad as so many of you might think he was... I sometimes think that my bad was the more wrong of the two.

I don�t know who withdrew first. But there was so much time that passed when I felt... Nothing. I didn�t feel. I refused to, because I hurt too bad. It�s like someone who has a sore tooth. Every time you inhale through your mouth, it sends searing pain into that tooth. It�s easier to just keep your mouth closed and not feel the pain.

Music of the moment: Nobody�s Fault But Mine : Nina Simone

That�s kinda how I was. But see... I was so... hurt and confused and scared and.... lonely, that I wasn�t willing to go to the �dentist� to get the problem solved.

Two years into the marriage, my mother finally pushed us into getting counseling. So, I spilled my guts in the counseling sessions. I said everything. I did the homework, I did the things I was told. But, the counselor wasn�t really... well... Let me put it this way, he wasn�t actually licensed to practice. We didn�t know that then.

Suffice it to say, the counseling did jack shit. He put both Duncan and I on Paxil, and said that that would fix the problem.

Music of the moment: Funkier Than A Mosquito�s Tweeter : Nina Simone

What that did is completely eliminate my minuscule sex drive completely. It didn�t change anything else. Well, that�s not exactly true, it made me a little more lethargic than previously. But the counselor didn�t catch that. I told him, but he just didn�t get it. He told me that I should be more receptive to my husband�s advances. And he told Duncan that he should try to experiment with some different positions/solutions. *rolls her eyes*

So, I figured, well, what else can I do. I�m not in the mood, I don�t wanna have sex, but, I�d rather just put out, than have him find someone else. It didn�t matter that Duncan was busy every morning before work because he thought he would spare me the �indignity� of something I didn�t want to do anyway. *rolls her eyes a lot* Man, we were all sorts of fucked up and neither of us was getting really... fucked.

C�est la vie, non? No!

I figured that if I took the initiative, maybe we could work something out. So, I got a book that was called something like, �Love Making for Married Couples�. *sighs* I read through the first couple chapters and I offered to read them to the spouse. He wasn�t interested.

Music of the moment: Central Park Blues : Nina Simone

I feel a lot like I tried too little too late. Or that maybe I just didn�t know what words to use. So I talked with the counselor about it. I said I wanted to be, well... a good wife in all aspects, but I didn�t know how. Hell, I didn�t have any experience with anyone other than Duncan as far as physical intimacy was concerned... So, The counselor asked if there was any pornographic material in the house. *rolls her eyes*

And, I rolled my eyes. From that cue, the counselor said that if we wanted to work on the marriage, if we wanted to have a solid and healthy sex life between Duncan and Myself, that we had to get rid of the pornography. So, I boxed up all the stuff, there were two large boxes of mags, about 10 videos, some books and some... aides. None were mine.

Music of the moment: Whiter Shade Of Pale :

Duncan was pissed. He didn�t want to get rid of them. I said that I felt cheap and useless when he had a house full of skinny, big breasted women in magazines and on videos. I told him that I felt worthless and inept and like I wasn�t good enough in comparison to the women he had in his fantasy mags. I told him that I really didn�t want them in the house at all, but if he refused to get rid of them, then I requested he keep them in his night stand and keep them hidden so I wouldn�t see them, so that I wouldn�t stumble over them, so that I wouldn�t be confronted with skinny, little 24 inch-waisted, 36DDD breasted women proving to me in their lewd poses that I would never be good enough to turn him on.

He kept one box in his night stand. He kept another box in the living room inside an end table with closing doors. But the videos and his personal massager remained in the living room, concealed except when he forgot.

Music of the moment: Cat�s In The Cradle : Ugly Kid Joe version

Gah, so many damned memories. I suppose this isn�t about Rick or the feeling of Nothingness. it will be, I�ll get back around to it, I promise. But for some reason, this has to come out. Psycho, huh? Yeah, that�s what I thought.

Anyway... he didn�t get rid of the porn, but he hid it because I asked him to. I supposed that was a decent compromise. Of course, it seemed to me that he hadn�t listened to what I said. Or, if he had, then he didn�t care. *shrugs* I don�t know. it doesn�t matter now. I know that after six months of counseling, I felt more worthless and helpless and... stupid? No. Meaningless, than before.

Music of the moment: Have You Ever Seen The Rain : CCR/REM

We kept going to counseling. The counselor asked if we had gotten rid of the porn. Duncan said yes. I said it was put away. The counselor moved on. He increased my dosage of Paxil. I got even more withdrawn and became more numb inside. Duncan would go to work and come home and sit down in front of the TV.

To me? He was gone. He was a shadow in my life. I�m not exactly sure when he became a shadow to me, but by then it was obvious we didn�t have anything left of a romantic, loving, tender relationship. I felt no reason to work on being alive. He brought home about 750 bucks a month out of his 2200 plus pay check. I was under the impression that child support was eating the difference between taxes and take home pay. Even when he got raises he never brought home more than about 800 bucks a month. Rent was 450 a month. You do the math. 80 bucks a month in gas for his car.

Music of the moment: I Sure Can Smell The Rain : Black Hawk

800 take home, to be generous. 450 for rent. 80 for fuel. 40 for electric. 50 per month late fee on rent. Every single month, cause he wouldn�t pay the rent another way. 60 bucks a month in beer. He had to have his case-per-week. 40 bucks a month for Duncan�s �mad money�. 60 bucks a month in groceries.

Music of the moment: Like The Rain : Clint Black

It was subsistence. But, because he was earning, by this time, 2400 Gross per month, we didn�t qualify for any public assistance. I made grocery lists. He got the groceries and sometimes went by the list, sometimes didn�t. I stayed in the house. I went from my bed to the chair to the bathroom to the bed. I sat in my robe day in and day out. He would bitch at me, telling me to do something. But, if I did something, he would bitch about how I wasn�t at home to answer the phone when he called. How dare I.

Music of the moment: Purple Rain : Dream Theater - Instrumental (supposedly)

He would bitch at me about cleaning. I told him that as soon as he spent two days without fucking up my cleaning, then I�d do cleaning on a daily basis. That was a habit he picked up somewhere. I don�t know where. I don�t really care.

During the first few months of our marriage, I did the dutiful housewife thing.

We got married. That night, we went back to the apartment, he drank two beers. I drank half of one. We both went to sleep. No intimacy, no sex, no huggin and kissin, no snugglin. Sleep.

The next day we prepared for our honeymoon. Went to Mom and Dad�s to open the presents, and spent a good two hours doing that. Then we headed off to Long Beach for our honeymoon. The first time I�d been to the Washington Coast since I�d hit adulthood. We arrived on Sunday the 28th of August 94. We got to the hotel room and... Duncan took a nap. I went out on the balcony to watch the dunes. We weren�t quite high up enough to actually catch sight of the ocean from our room.

I came back inside cause it was nastily cold and blowy. Duncan was still asleep. So, I wrote thank-you notes. When he woke, we went out for dinner. We came back and he watched TV while I wrote out more thank you notes. We didn�t talk much. We had sex that night. If I remember correctly, it lasted 20 minutes. Start to finish.

He finished. He went into the bathroom and washed up. He came back to the bed, turned on the TV and fell asleep. I went and washed up. I went back into the bedroom and wrote more thank you notes. (hey, there were 150 people at the wedding). Then, finally, I went to sleep. He wrapped his arm around me. I felt safe.

The next morning, I woke to the feeling of his �member� pressed against my ass. He was telling me he was ready. We had sex again. I think that this time it lasted about 15 minutes. After which, we showered together. The first and only time.

Music of the moment: Rain In The Country : Floyd

We got dressed and went out to the town. I wanted to go see the beach, but we went past the go-karts first and he wanted to ride. So he did and I watched. (I chose not to ride. Getting in was no problem, getting out afterward, though...) He had so much fun he wanted to go through again. He did. I watched again. Then we got back in the car and went to a few of the shops in town. Stopped by Marsh�s Free Museum. Had a late lunch/very late breakfast then went back to the hotel room where we watched a few videos. No cuddling, just sitting in the same room on the same bed.

That night, Monday night, we had sex again. 20 minutes. He washed up, went to bed to the sound of the TV. no pillow talk, none of that romantic stuff you see in movies. I washed up and wrote in my notebook. We watched more movies. Napped. I wrote. He watched TV. We went back to the go-karts and he rode a couple more times.

That night we didn�t have sex. The next day, August 31st, he realized that the tabs of my Car expired as of the first of September. So, instead of staying another day, which is what I wanted to do, and the room was paid for through that night, we drove back home. He used the money from the hotel room refund to buy tabs for the car when we got back to Tacoma.

Music of the moment: Rain Man : Hans Zimmer

That was our honeymoon at the ocean. I didn�t get to see the ocean once. Didn�t touch the sand. I thought, it�s our honeymoon, aren�t we supposed to spend the time together? So, I chose not to go to the ocean by myself.

When we got back to Tacoma, �real life� started. He started looking for work. My little Pinto was our only car. He was gone during most of the day for about a week, coming back at night to watch TV. I would cook and clean and make sure there was something warm when he got home. I figured that he�d settle into being married and would once again shower me with attention, which is what he did before we were hitched.

It didn�t work that way. He filed for unemployment cause he wasn�t finding any work. So, we lived on unemployment for a couple months. I tried to keep his spirits up. We had sex maybe twice a week, if that. I did the house cleaning, preparing food thing. He tried calling home a couple times and found the ringing of the phone to be offensive to him. When he�d get home, he�d ask me what I was doing... where I�d been, why I hadn�t been there to answer the phone. I said I was down talking with Sherri (a female friend of mine who lived four doors down).

Since they didn�t have a phone at the time, he said that I should invite her over to our place so that he could get in touch with me if he needed to. About a week or so after that, he finally found work with a man in our church. He did roofing and such. About the same time, my car died. Not because it was recalcitrant, but because it hadn�t gotten repaired when the breaks started grinding. So, the break drum was ground almost to powder and the plate... I can�t remember the appropriate terms right now... was ruined. That meant a much more expensive repair job than new break shoes and pads.

Regardless, the boss picked Duncan up every day for work and Duncan was gone from about 6 every morning til about 6 or 7 every night. He was completely exhausted, and I did my absolute best to not make any demands on his time. I figured he would need a few weeks to get used to his new schedule. I cooked, cleaned, did the whole housewife thing.

A few times, I tried to instigate sex at night. But he told me flatly that he just didn�t have the energy. I accepted that and turned off my sex drive. That was the first thing I remember shutting down. I remember being so lonely. I remember wanting, so desperately, to go out again, just one or two nights a month, even. I asked Duncan about this. (before we were married, I went out to do Karaoke every night. For about two years straight I was out every night doing Karaoke. Duncan was right there with me until he went on West Pac for six months.)

Music of the moment: Rain Must Fall : Queen

So, after four months of married life, we�d gone out to Karaoke twice. At my insistence. He didn�t want to go because he didn�t have enough money to buy drinks. I said we�d get a soda a piece and nurse them. He said he didn�t want to do that. I said we should save up and go on some weekend. He said the tires were bad on the car. I said he was driving to and from work. He said that was necessary. I backed off.

I started in again a while later. Can we go do Karaoke? Dan and Sherri have invited us to go with them, they�ll drive and pay. He said okay. We went, but we went in our own car. Explain that one, hmm? We went and Duncan paid for our drinks and bought them a round. Explain that one. Dan got drunk (Dan was Sherri�s husband) and Duncan didn�t like that, so decided he wanted to go home. We left early. I�d gotten to sing one song.

Music of the moment: Tears In Rain : Vangelis

About six months into our marriage, I stopped cooking. Whenever Duncan would cook, he would leave the kitchen an absolute mess. Dirtying three pans to make a single box of mac&cheese seemed excessive to me. Leaving the box, the wrappers on the counter. He would make canned biscuits cause he didn�t like my home-made, hand-rolled biscuits. He�d leave the wrappers and the butter and such out on the counter. Keep in mind here that we were in a small, one bedroom apartment with a kitchen just big enough for sink, stove/oven, refrigerator and a small two-seater table. We didn�t have a table.

Music of the moment: Who�s Gonna Stop The Rain :

We had about two square feet of counter space. it filled up very quickly. And though there was a garbage can under the sink and another in the corner about six feet from the sink, he still couldn�t bring himself to throw away the trash. After cleaning up after him for six months, in the kitchen... after having to wash the dishes before I could cook a meal because he�d already dirtied every pan, I told him that if he didn�t clean up after himself, I wasn�t going to cook anymore.

He said he would cook. I said okay.

Everyday, when he got home from work, he would strip out of his cover-alls and clunky, muddy boots. He would toss the boots on the floor, in the middle of the walkway. He would dump his coveralls on the floor. So, I set a laundry basket in the livingroom right next to his chair. I asked him to please put his coveralls in it when he got home. I also asked him to keep his boots out of the walkway, as I�d already tripped over them a few times. He nodded and shrugged, watching TV.

After a full month of my having to pick up his coveralls and move them two feet to get them into the clothes basket; and picking up his boots, putting them beside his chair, I shook my head, looked at him and said I wasn�t going to be his maid anymore.

Music of the moment: Let It Rain : Clapton

I told him that I had made requests. I hadn�t nagged or demanded. But if he wasn�t willing to help in simple ways, then I wasn�t going to clean anymore. He said okay. I stopped cleaning. He didn�t start. We had stopped having sex much at all. I�d estimate maybe twice a month. On Saturday nights only.

I was a recalcitrant bitch. I didn�t nag him. I didn�t bitch at him. I didn�t complain. But I didn�t cook or clean. He wasn�t willing to go out once a week, or even once a month. He wasn�t willing to put his fucking coveralls into the fucking clothes basket. He wasn�t willing to fucking wipe off the counters after he�d fucked them up. so, I just kept my mouth shut and started tuning out.

When he got home from work, I would hand him a beer and the TV remote. He would nod, peel off his coveralls and boots, crack open the beer and turn on the TV. When he got hungry, he would make food. Sometimes I would eat, sometimes I wouldn�t. I wouldn�t eat lunch because there was no reason to, there was nothing to cook with and I wasn�t going to do his dishes.

I looked at myself in the mirror one day and saw that I looked like hell. I noticed weight gain, dark circles under my eyes and a disgusting palor to my skin. I looked completely and totally unattractive to me. So, I decided that I was going to go out and walk. (when we had a car, he had it, when we didn�t, his boss would pick him up)

Music of the moment: Classical Guitar : Clapton

One night he got home from work he glared at me and asked me where I�d been. I said I�d gone for a walk down to the farm about a mile from the apartment. He said he was worried when I wouldn�t pick up the phone and he thought that something had happened to me. He didn�t want me to be away from the phone in the future, cause he might need to get a hold of me.

I rolled my eyes but figured what the hell. After all, It�s not like I was doing anything productive in the house. I wasn�t cleaning, or cooking, so I might as well acquiesce in this small matter.

Music of the moment: More Than Words : Extreme

A few days later, or maybe a few weeks, I left the apartment after he got home and I made it about three quarters of the way down the walk way (outdoor hall) when Duncan poked his head out the door and asked where I was going. I said I was going for a walk. He glared and motioned me back to the apartment. I shook my head and said I was going for a walk around the building, I�d be back in five minutes. He glared more and hissed at me to get back in the apartment.

I walked toward him but didn�t enter the apartment, I asked him what the big deal was and he said that he didn�t want me going for a walk. I asked why. He said that he was worried that I might get hurt. I told him that I was just going to walk around the apartment building (not even equivalent to two sides of a city block) and he shook his head, speaking quietly. He said that he didn�t want me to get hurt. I said I wouldn�t. He asked what would happen if I fell. I said I�d get up. He asked what would happen if I couldn�t get up. I said I�d wait a minute until I caught my breath, THEN I�d get up.

He still didn�t agree, saying that what if I couldn�t get up at all. I told him that then, since he was so close, I would call for help if I needed it. He growled a bit and I took a step back, finally raising my voice in exasperation. I said something akin to, �I�m just going to walk around the fucking building, I�m not going to break, damn it.�

that�s when he grasped my arm and pulled me inside the apartment, closed the door and proceeded to tell me not to argue in front of the neighbors, after all, what would they think? I looked at him and said, �they�d think we were married. Imagine that.�

He didn�t see the humor in that sarcastically delivered comment.

Music of the moment: While My Guitar Gently Weeps : Clapton Version

*sighs*

So, I gave in. I threw up my hands, looked him in the eye and said something akin to, �Fine. You don�t want me to leave the house when you�re not here, I won�t. You don�t want me to leave the house when you are here, I won�t. I won�t go anywhere else without you to hold my hand, all right, daddy?� He was pissed off at that, glared at me and told me that I could at least spend my time cleaning the house during the day. I could possibly get off my ass to cook something.

I shook my head, gave a little half-laugh and rolled my eyes. My response was something like, �Whatever.� And then, I employed the diversionary tactic. �You�re missing your TV show� I then walked away from him into the bedroom. He asked where I was going. I said, �I�m going into the bedroom, is that okay with you?�

He nodded, then sat down and watched TV. I stared at him for a long moment, then went into the bedroom, sat down on the bed, then sat back, finally lay down and cried silently. I heard him moving in the livingroom, so I hid my face in the pillow, pretending I was asleep. That�s how we spent the majority of the next six months.

I avoided him, but stayed in the apartment unless he was with me. I stopped talking. I withdrew. I stopped caring. I gave up.

Music of the moment: River Of Tears : Clapton

There was a period of about four months, when we would have another couple from church over every weekend. The girl was the sister of a good friend of mine. Her husband was in the Army. Phil. I liked him so much. He was intelligent and interesting and his wife treated him like he was a piece of shit. When I was friends with Shelly (the friend), I met her sister Jenny. Jenny was the most spoiled, bitchy, nasty little ....... C word I had ever met. I hated her.

The fact that Phil had married her astounded me. It proved to me that any man, no matter how smart he was, could be swayed by the cute smile and wiggle in the ass of some slender little slitch. I still don�t like her... or did you not get that impression?

Regardless, they would come over on Saturday nights and Phil and I would talk for hours on end about the Bible and what the minister had said in church that day and what the Bible really said. We would get into some light-hearted arguments about it. We would debate the Bible, and the only books which were allowed, were the Bible, a concordance and a dictionary.

I felt alive when we had those discussions. He listened to me and actually paid some attention to what I was saying and thinking. Duncan would spend the time mixing drinks and watching TV or whatever movie was on. Jenny would sigh and fidget and make noises like she was bored. Duncan would engage her in conversation and she would flirt with him. Phil and I weren�t even aware, we were too deeply ensconced in our study and conversation.

There are many, many times that I had conversations with Phil which were the sole intellectual source for me. Damn I miss him.

Duncan and Jenny both decided that they didn�t want to do the weekend thing anymore. Supposedly they didn�t decide together. I don�t know. I don�t much care. it�s over, water under the bridge. Phil and Jenny got divorced, thank God. She was such a slitch. An absolute C-word. I can�t use Whore, because it doesn�t fit. But she was an absolute, no holds barred Cunt. With a capital C.

Awwww, fuck. What does it matter.

The whole purpose of this entry was to identify with Rick�s wife. Honestly, it was. Hell, I know all about feeling Nothing. Being Nothing on the inside. Being so numb. And, it�s not because of what Duncan did. It�s what I chose to allow to happen. Granted, I was young and stupid. I didn�t know any better. But I should have. I should have known better.

duncan was a good man. He had the best of intentions. He makes a much, much better friend than spouse. I would take him as a friend now if he weren�t living with his fucking ass-monger rag hag whore!

*smiles sweetly, with big-ole-nasty-teeth*

So...

Rick... I don�t think, in any way, shape, or form, that you are like Duncan. Not even a little bit. But I do see a lot of similarities between your description of your wife and her behaviors, and myself.

Rick... If you�re willing to take one more chance... just one more chance... and risk your hurt heart to try again with her, please, tell her. And when she tells you she�s scared, you don�t have to have the answers. When she tells you she doesn�t know what to do, or how to act, or what to say... When she tells you that she�s scared to death and she doesn�t even know what she�s scared of... Just hold her, tell her that you don�t know either, but you�re willing to commit your life and love to her. That you don�t know what the future holds either, but as long as you�re able to, you will be there for her.

And, to answer a question you asked... She said she loved you every day, even if she didn�t feel it, because she wanted to feel it. She wanted to feel it so much. And she hoped, prayed, wished, that if she said it enough, she would feel it.

Depression is a massive bitch and it takes hold of a person�s mind to the point where nothing makes sense, where the only thing left is the depression.

The thing that worked for me... the thing that snapped me out of my depression... A fully loaded Ken Worth semi. It sounds like your wife is waking up without the semi. My earnest and most heart felt prayers are with you and especially her. May she continue to wake up. May she continue to realize what she is letting go of, and also realize that it�s not too late for her to take hold once again.

Depression is a major bitch. But, if I could break out of it. If I could, after 30 years of life hating everything I seemed to be, discover that I like me... She can too.

Marriage takes more patience than I ever realized. It takes more work than I ever realized. Your advice to �Aida� was right on the money! If I had waited until after I was 25 to marry... I wouldn�t have married him. *smiles softly* It�s a hard thing to know that you married someone for the wrong reasons. It�s another to realize you fucked someone up for the wrong reasons. I have hated myself for so damned long that I sometimes don�t know how to feel any other way.

Your wife might backslide a little... be patient. Pick one thing that the two of you used to do before you got married... something that you know is very important to her. And do that for her again. I pray she will do the same for you. You�re a very good man for holding on and working this hard for so long. May you be richly and abundantly blessed in everything you put your hand to.

Long, drawn out, verbose, cyclonic to the maximum... but the bottom line is this...

You�re dead on accurate about how much work marriage takes. Thank you for getting up again and again and again and again and again. And thank you for getting back up every time you will in the future. Thank you for loving your wife. Corny as that may sound, I mean it!

Music of the moment: I Wanna Talk About Me : Toby Keith