How many times have you heard someone talk about life getting better when they finally hit bottom. What happens when you hit bottom, and you can’t find anything to use to climb back out of the hole. Damn it, throw me a rope would you? I mean really, seriously. I am stuck at the bottom of this freaking pit, it’s dark, it smells, and oh yeah, I have 3 kids and a worthless husband down here with me.
Speaking of the husband, after 13 years of “marriage” I finally figured him out. Actually it wasn’t just him I figured out, it was me. I was washing dishes when I had a moment of clarity. I don’t have them very often, but when I do, I usually pay close attention. You see, at church they were talking about all the baggage we carry around, and that we carry all this baggage, and it inhibits our functioning in every day life.
I have always been the one to hold things together. That was my job, don’t rock the boat, and no matter what, do whatever you can to hold everything together, even if there isn’t enough duct tape on the planet to hold it together. What I figured out is in every relationship in my life I have been the mother. Not even a good mother, but a mother none the less. My mother had her “issues” we will call them for lack of a desire to describe it at this moment. Because of this, I was my own mother. With previous men, I was always taking care of everything, making sure that every one had exactly what they needed, not that my own needs were met, not my own. I remember one summer I had the boyfriend from hell, and Judy Malone asked me if I was going to be his wife or his mother when I got to church camp that year. Well, I finally figured that out and dumped the dope, only to date two more just like him (perhaps not as damaging, but the damage had already been done).
What the hell was I thinking, I guess I wasn’t thinking at all. I was looking at the guy in front of me, the one that wanted to pay attention to me at that moment. The same one whom I got pregnant with, and then married. How dumb am I? Feel free not to answer that rhetorical question.
There I was, standing at my kitchen sink in the apartment that I rent, but have been unable to pay for this month, staring at the man I have called my husband for the last 13 years while the soap dripped down my arms, realizing that it is not a wife he wants, but a mother. He’s not interested in being partners, or parenting together. Sure, he will babysit the other kids because he is the oldest, and that is what the oldest kid is supposed to do. When mom gets mad at him, he will do just enough to get back in her good graces until the next time. Yes, I am stupid