Archives for posts with tag: sadness

It’s my birthday today. A time for celebration?  Well, yes, but…

I feel sad. I feel happy too, but I also feel like crying.

I feel like crying because I’ve been thinking about my birthdays over the past few years.  In 2011, a significant birthday, I went to a London show, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, with my husband and daughters.  I got a deal for a meal and best available price tickets and, would you believe it, they gave us a box!  It was a great night, but I organised it and paid for it and had to persuade husband to come, but who cares?  It was good.

In 2012, it my birthday fell on the day of the Christmas party at the dance studio where husband and I had been having ballroom lessons.  By this time, husband had stopped attending the lessons, but I was hooked and kept going on my own.  He very, very reluctantly agreed to come to the party. He sat in the same seat all night, looking miserable, and refusing to socialise, making it quite obvious that he didn’t want to be there and had only come because it was my birthday. I enjoyed myself because I’m that kind of person but it’s not a good feeling to be out with someone who obviously isn’t enjoying themself. It darkens the evening.

Last year we were supposed to be going out, where I don’t know. But a couple of days before he started making noises about him having to finish work early and the expense.  The expense!  I don’t need money lavished on me to have a good time. Anyway, to put him out of his misery, I told him not to bother. So he didn’t.  I had lunch with a friend and went dancing with another friend in the evening.  Husband didn’t even ask me what I’d done or if I’d had a good time. When I raised that with him later, he said he hadn’t asked because he didn’t care.

And presents?  He asks my daughter to get me something from him.  My daughter and I went along with this charade of her buying me something and us both pretending it was from him.  Until last year.  Last year, she gave me ‘his’ present of lacy underwear and I knew this wasn’t from him because the last time I put on lacy underwear, he asked me what the f**k I was doing and switched on Sky Sport (that was on a weekend away!). Then later on he saw the bag from the shop where she’d bought the gift and asked me who’d been shopping there. You, I told him, for my birthday present. He later chastised my daughter for not warning him. Should we laugh or cry?  Who knows.

So these are my past few birthdays.  Yet I am responsible and completely to blame for the failure of this relationship.

Little wonder I feel like crying.

But I’m also happy.  Friends who know about my situation have sent me cards and I know the messages have been chosen especially to show me their love and support.  And people I’ve only known for a short space of time show me such kindness when they really don’t have to at all, they have no obligation to, but they do it because they care.

And who knows when my divorce will come through and what I’ll be doing this time next year.

At the moment, I’m out having breakfast on my own and thinking about the past and thinking about the future and feeling sad and feeling happy and feeling…

Alive.

 

I read my journal entry for 25th December 2012. Here it is:

I’m feeling melancholy.  I feel like I didn’t make enough effort to make the day special. It hasn’t helped that yet again for Christmas I don’t feel well.  Sometimes I just feel helpless at Christmas. My mum always did it so well and I can’t get anywhere near it.  It feels like I don’t know how to and also that I have to create it all on my own and sometimes I just want some help, not only with the practical but also with the magical. I suppose that this is a day that I really feel there is a gap in my life.  An emptiness that needs to be filled…

Perhaps next year we could all get together on Christmas day [ie my sister and her children] and make it special: share the preparations so no-one has to do it all, plan it properly with games.  I suppose that’s one of the things I miss – no-one wants to play games.

This was at a point in my life when I was trying to keep my marriage alive and wondering why I couldn’t fix it. I was naive when I wrote this. I didn’t understand the meaning behind what I was writing.

I’d booked a weekend away for the end of January to try and  bring us closer together.  Husband didn’t come.  He went to work instead.  Shortly after that, I heard the Bruno Mars’ song with the words “I should have bought you flowers, and held your hand, should have given you all my hours, when I had the chance, taken you to every party, ‘cos all you wanted to do was dance, now my baby’s dancing, but she’s dancing with another man.’ 

And I cried.

And I’ve spent the year dancing with another man.  Only dancing, but lots of dancing.

And it’s been lovely.

It’s not how I wanted things to be.

But it has been lovely.

 

There are two MEs: Happy Me and Sad Me.

I often meet Happy Me but she’ll only occasionally come into my home.  She comes back with me but rarely steps over the threshold, although she often looks through the window, just to check I’m OK.  Sometimes she waits in the car for me, or she’ll be there when I turn a corner or stop at the traffic lights, or I’ll meet her at the gym or in a coffee shop or she’ll come to lunch with me and my friends.  She’s always there when I go dancing.  Life’s great when Happy Me’s around: she’s so positive; full of fun and laughter and ideas.  We have a fantastic time together.

The only problem is Sad Me often drags along with us, spoiling our fun.  Happy Me and I usually manage to shake her off, lose her in the crowd or just ignore her as she sits in the corner and sulks.  But sometimes she’s more persistent and no matter what we do, she’s still there, with her miserable face and her negative outlook.  She’s not frightened to come into my home.  She’s waiting on the doorstep when I get back from the fun times with Happy Me.  She pushes past me to get in first and she trails from room to room behind me, looking sour.

Happy Me and I are plotting to eliminate Sad Me for once and for all.

We’re going to bombard her with our happiness.

Until she can take no more.

 

A lot has happened over the last two weeks.

When on holiday, we were seated at dinner with another couple and their young daughter.  We have no couple friends anymore.  They’ve drifted out of our lives and I’m not going to even explore why or who or when.  Consequently, I rarely see couples interacting so I have no benchmark of a relationship to compare with mine.

One morning, the woman said that when she wakes up, she reads.  [She reads?  She admits to this in front of her husband?  He doesn’t mind?]  I scan his face for his reaction: normal, smiling.

Then she goes to the gym.  [She goes to the gym?  She admits to this in front of her husband?  He doesn’t mind?]  Again, he’s normal, smiling, no hints of annoyance or irritation.

Then when she gets back from the gym, he sometimes wants to go so…they go back to the gym together.  [What?!!!]

I no longer read in front of husband or talk about what I’ve read.  I go to the gym but I say as little as possible about it and only if he mentions it.

I certainly would not talk about what I do in front of other people when husband is present.  Consequently, I said very little at dinner, was very non-committal and, l confess, very boring.

And I realised that I have a very warped idea of what a relationship looks like because I’ve been attacked and blamed and silenced about what I do.  And that was when I realised that we have no couple friends anymore so I have nothing to compare our relationship to.

I sneak around, trying to continue to do the things I enjoy, whilst almost denying that I do them, and it’s driving me crazy.  Husband would say he’s never told me I can’t do something, that he doesn’t stop me reading, going to the gym, seeing friends, going dancing, etc, and he doesn’t, not directly.  But indirectly, there are the looks, the comments, the lack of interest, which show disapproval.

And I now suspect this probably isn’t what a ‘normal’ relationship looks like.

And I want to cry.

Or is this all in my imagination?  I don’t know.

 

We’re having a weekend away, for no other reason than husband won a competition.

In the past, I would have felt excited about the prospect but now my desire for a change of scene and the novelty of a new experience and the opportunity to spend time with husband are clouded by my emotions and feelings.  I feel I am going with a stranger.  I feel sad but, more than this, I feel guilty, incredibly guilty.

I don’t know what we’re going to talk about.  So many subjects, ie my life, are taboo. He doesn’t want to know about my hobbies and interests or my new friends: it’s understandable, it’s the life I’ve had to create without him, that he’s chosen not to be a part of.  We could talk about us, but that feels like the most dangerous topic of all.  I could tell him about a friend who took me to lunch, a friend that I dance with, but I don’t think I will.  I suppose we will make polite conversation about the place, the weather, the children and work – safe subjects – but subjects that just avoid the issues and give an illusion of normality.  When I feel far from normal.

The problem is I don’t feel he likes me or wants to be with me.  I don’t bring him any happiness, only misery.  It’s really difficult being with someone you feel is disapproving of you.  We normally avoid people that we get negative vibes from and gravitate to those who seem to like us.  He’s only taking me out of habit and because he doesn’t have the guts or imagination to take anyone else.  Saying this sounds awful, cynical, and I hate myself for it.

But that’s how I feel.

Anyway, I will go and I will enjoy myself, because I am resourceful and resilient and seem to have a bizarre ability to be happy even when I’m sad, and who knows?  Maybe he will romance me and seduce me and thaw my frozen heart.