Let's start with where I am at. Something broke in me, Sunday. Well, that's not the truth, I guess. Something broke in me a long time ago, but I discovered it, Sunday. I couldn't place it, till then, but when I figured it out, it's like everything came clear, which is weird, and it hurt, I guess, but at least I'm not numb, in the dark, anymore.
First, Irv and I were discussing how we don't have anything in common. We talk about that a lot, because it's true, we really don't. He doesn't get why I read, write, game, and play with the computer so much. He's not into cerebral activities. The way he sees it, is that all this stuff = "just sitting there" and "just sitting there" doesn't bring him a profit, so therefore it's a waste of time. He gets very frustrated, when he sees me "wasting time" because I am part of his profit oriented world.
That's old news, something we've been over and over.
His brain is lazy, so he makes his world so small; he has nothing to think about. He, over time, has put himself in this little box, where all he ever thinks about, to the exclusion of all else (including Alden and I, which is where the problems really start to come in) is work. He'll come home 10 minutes before Alden's bedtime, and rather than spend the 10 minutes talking to him about his day, he'll spend that 10 minutes grilling me about what I'VE done to make his day operate smoother. "Did you call Mrs. Everson, about her hedges? Could you order me some more weed wacker cord?" Till I have to say "Shut the hell up, I have to go tuck in Alden, now, why don't you at least say hi to him." Etc etc. I suppose it's nothing I haven't bitched about before. But this is my blog, and I'm taking my time unraveling the whole situation.
I had a two part epiphany, Sunday. Part one. I learned my place in his life. I realized that I'm no more or less than another mower to him. Not unimportant, of course, his mowers are his livelihood, but they're parts of his Machine. When they're running, the business is running, and money is being made. I'm part of his Machine, too. When I'm operating smoothly, then life goes smoothly, and money can be made. When I start to break down, he gets frustrated, and in typical Scorpio fashion, rages. He rages at the mowers when they don't work. He rages at me, when I don't work. He says awful, hurtful things, and while never having laid a hand on me, he uses very violent, aggressive motions. He throws things, swings his arms, like he wants to punch something, storms around, shaking things down off of shelves. I used to worry that one day, it would be me. Now, I'm not so worried about that. I can take a punch, but it would be the last time he ever got use out of that arm. I'm digressing, I suppose. But, my realization here is that I'm the caretaker of his life. When things DO work, I'm invisible. A piece of furniture, at best. I would use that term lightly, but, again, I think I know what it really means, now. I knew it already, but, I didn't think too hard on it. Schuyler has caused me to think about it, in his own subtle way. More on him later.
If I walked out the door tomorrow, Irv wouldn't miss Lisa. He would miss his receptionist. Saturday evening illustrated that, for me. After being gone all day, most of Friday, and all day Thursday, as well, we came home from the Bronx Zoo, Saturday night. He was all sullen. I thought, "ooh, finally, maybe he misses me or something" So, I asked him what's up, why so sad? "Today it was cool out, and it smells like the fall. You know the fall depresses me, The Season is over soon"
In case it's not already clear, lemme illustrate something: This man hasn't seen his wife in days. His wife is spending every spare moment with this wonderful guy, that she's obviously head over heels about. That particular day, his wife, his kid, and this guy, all went to the zoo, and had a fucking blast (without him). And he was depressed….because he won't be able to cut grass for much longer this year.
That statement sucked the wind out of me. It was like, this curtain fell, or something. But, at least I know where I stand, right? Sunday I brought it up, just like that, to Irv. I asked him if he thought there was anything wrong with that. He gave me a blank stare. "What, something's wrong with being depressed about the weather?" Yep. I draw further inward.
Part two of the epiphany:
I said, Sunday, over the course of our talking, to the mister, this (because he said his usual "I'll give you anything, I'd die for you, speech): "Shadow used to say, dying for you is nothing, anyone can die. Dying is part of life. But would you kill for me? 'I'd die for you' is a very thin sentiment. Would you? Would you kill for me?"
He couldn't say anything. When he did, he said "No". At least he was truthful. See, I already knew the answer; I just wanted to hear him say it. You know what's sad, though? Up till recently, I would kill for him.
Another illustration: The Joe Murray incident. The meat of the matter, without rehashing the whole ugly day: Joe went after Irv, pushing him to the ground. I lost all sense of anything, and went over the top. I lunged after Joe, with the full intent of pushing my thumbs through his eyes. I didn't want to rough him up. I didn't want to scare him. I wanted to kill him. Joe Murray is 6' 1" about 270. He's hard, and muscular, with a small bit of fat. He would, given the chance, probably have mopped the floor with me. He and the 5 other of his guys that were there. In that scuffle, I came away with nasty bruises, a scrape, and a badly sprained ankle.
Where was Irv? I usually gloss the truth, and said he went along with me, after the guy. But I remember as vividly as I remember anything. He stood up, and shuffled back about 3 steps, away from our fray. He jumped in, to "rescue" me, I guess, when Joe's partner, and other guys, had surrounded me. He managed to get them off of me and me off of Joe.
When the cops came, Irv was the first one out there, shooing them away "No, no, everything's fine, it's ok, we're just having a little discussion" (I was bleeding, a little).
The next day, Joe came up behind me, as I was working alone at the House; I had to actually dodge him, because he was advancing on me. He had me cornered on the porch, and I could see that he wanted to damage me somehow, and I was scared. I had to pick up a boxcutter, and brandish it at him, to get him to back up a step, and then I scooted by, and ran to the other house, to call the cops. I passed Irv on the walkway, he was running out to see Joe. To see Joe. To see JOE. Nevermind that I just flew by with a look of terror, holding a boxcutter, screaming something about the police.
I called them, and they came. All they could do was ask him to step off the property. Irv was standing right there with him. Shrugging at the cop, gesturing back to where I was, I got the "apology" vibe. He was apologizing for my "antics". Silly girl. He then stood out there, in the street, for the world to see, in what was the worst betrayal, the biggest mockery I've ever faced in my entire young life. There is my husband, who I am supposed to be one with, bowing and scraping, and kissing this guy's ass, and making all these ridiculous promises, in the name of money. All for money, and making nice. This guy that the day before, had come into our house, with the intent to cause violence. The guy that punched his wife, and stepped on her ankle. The guy that screamed to my face that I'm a "fat psycho dyke cunt". That guy, and my husband, were standing out in warm June sunlight, making plans together.
I can't even put into words, here, how I felt, how I feel about that. I buried it deep, though. If the full brunt of my hate and rage had hit me right then, I would probably be in jail.
So, yeah. That's where I am.
This whole year, I've been working toward individualizing myself, both physically and mentally. I used to relish my aloneness, and drew great strength from it. Being a cog in a machine saps that strength. Now, it's ok again. It's really alright. I've been working out my body more, and working on my mind. I'm finding my old strengths, and trying to lose my weaknesses. School is still on hold, but I've decided that no matter if this house is done, or not, come January, I will finish school, and get my Associates Degree, then on to Livingston college, to finish the Masters. I might even change my major. Fuck this house, I hated it anyway.
Those are my realizations. Here are my goals, for myself. I am working toward financial independence. I am drawing my roots in, a little at a time, so that I (with Alden) become fully functioning island. I'm preparing myself for the eventuality of getting the hell out of here. Out of this town, out of this situation, out of this life, that's killing me.
I said, when I was younger, I would never NEED a man, to take care of me. I never thought I would, yet here I am, fully dependant on someone, and that alone kills me. It kills me.
I'm in no hurry. I want to get it all done right. I have the stamina, and patience to endure whatever here (as long as it's a stable environment for Alden, and we're in no physical danger). I can be uncomfortable, in the name of working toward independence. Everything is ok, as long as I have something to strive for, and I'm not casting about for a reason or a way. I've got a motivation, now. Maybe a reason, I don't know. From right here, it sure looks like a good one. Schuyler. Not ready to go into it, about him, yet. It's all too much, right now.
I told Irv all this, on Sunday afternoon Pretty much exactly how I laid it out here. I'm done suppressing. It's making me unhealthy. I'm tired of being sick. It was never my way. It's not again. I'm done being a cog. I'm here, and I'll do my household duties, like a good girl, but my heart is no longer here. My mind isn't either. Call it "cold detachment". I won't fight for this life, this house, for Irv, anymore. I've entered the realm of "marriage of convenience".
After learning about all this, how does Irv feel? He seemed to internalize it, finally. He's gone all strange. Overly clingy, too cute, overly bright, overly trying too fucking hard. In light of everything that's gone on, recently, it's very thin, and rather hurtful. Like, too little too late, I guess. He only snaps to, now, after all this. He's become downright whiny. "I wub yoouu" Ugh. For the first time in all our 7 years together, he cooked a meal for me.
No real changes, here. The Joe Murray situation is still vastly fucked up, and one phone call on his part could change it. He won't do it, still. It's all surface bullshit that will go away in time. We'll be ignoring each other again. So, no, I really don't appreciate his newfound attentions. I'm insulted and put off by them. If that makes me a coldhearted bitch, then so be it.
Do I hate him? No. I hate what he's become. I hate how we've grown apart. I hate this situation. He's a good person, deep down. We're just not compatible, I don't think. After everything, I'm killing myself trying to force us to be, and getting nowhere.
That's enough for now. There's more facets to this. I'm tired of writing, though.
[Listening to: Funeral - King Diamond - (1:30)]
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