I’ve had a rough week… a very rough week. It started last Thursday and, well here we are a week later and I’m still trying to convince myself that “the only way out is through“.
PS: I may ramble in this post – you’ve been advised.
After I tried that meditation class last Thursday, I came away feeling weird. Not refreshed, but weary. It was intensified by reading a story in my local newspaper about an old employer of mine. This got my blood pumping. I hate that guy – condescending and out-to-lunch he is. On top of this, the pit bull I live with was being the worst listener ever and just watching my fiancé “look on” as if nothing was happening piqued my irritation this day. The resentment I hold against my man for the dog issue among other things has been so strong lately. Pregnancy hormones?? A bout of bipolar mania? Or just my high strung personality? I’m so angry and I can’t shake it.
My internal dialogue has been fierce. I’m feeling very, very alone and I’m so angry about it. My fiancé doesn’t seem to feel it important to validate my feelings. He’s a “brush it under the rug” kinda guy… doesn’t like confronting issues. Therefore, I’m disappointed more and more as the days go on.
Speaking of disappointment, a synonym for this word (in my world anyway) is my mother. It’s her birthday today… which only makes today more annoying than it would be otherwise. I don’t talk to her anymore… haven’t for two years. She has disappointed me all my life and the fact that her birthday falls in a week that has been so hard for me just aggravates me – like she’s pushing my buttons from afar. She’s the only person I haven’t gone out of my way to tell that I’m pregnant. Ironically, my fiancé feels the same about his mother. Lately, I feel like this is all we have in common – hating our mothers. I feel a lot of pressure to be Super Mom because of this stigma. I feel so contradicted when I want to make a move with the pit bull, but I’m then told I’m overreacting. Then he’s the one who forgets to give the brindle boy his meds or feed him in the morning. I digress…
I have attempted to walk the dog every day this week to see if we can make some progress – him and I that is. The pooch seems to appreciate the attention, but he is very bad mannered throughout the walks. His energy is so high… I can barely handle him. However, some days are better than others – this irritates me because he’s inconsistent and hard to predict. I don’t handle unpredictability well. Another reason why I sometimes wonder if my father’s misfortunate of being bipolar has found its way to me. My anxiety is through the roof on these days.
I resent the fact that when my fiancé has “free time” he not only spends it away from me, but the dog too. You can’t take a dog golfing… or fishing (when you own this pit bull)… or going to have a beer. So both the dog and I are left to loathe these activities instead of encouraging my man to have “his own life”. I’m so upset that I cry all the time… again, pregnancy hormones, or…? I’m so tired of feeling like I’m not important. Feeling like my feelings don’t matter.
This brings me to the sex life that has been lacklustre from the beginning (should I start a new blog post for this?). My man has an issue with premature ejaculation. Something I have decided to overlook, because I love him. He has no interest in trying to resolve this issue. Four years have gone by and aside from immediately afterwards, he has completely ignored it as if it’s not happening. He genuinely seems very sorry when it does happen, but I’m over the apology. I want forplay… I want after play… I want to cum too dammit! Obviously getting pregnant wasn’t an issue… and we are both happy and excited for our future, but I’m left feeling really, really empty and alone. I’m so depressed. He’s gotten to that “comfortable” stage where he doesn’t even talk about it now.
My internal dialogue has been blaming myself for letting all the things that bother me… well, bother me. I keep telling myself that I am settling for less than I deserve. I keep spinning my wheels about how stuck I feel now that I’m pregnant. He’s the breadwinner and I’m at home all the time… feeling neglected and resentful. I didn’t enter into this relationship feeling like this was where I’d be. I admitted at the beginning of our relationship that I wasn’t going to be having kids (my choice) and I didn’t feel that a wedding was necessary in a relationship. The idea here was to be upfront before he got too invested in us only to find out that I wouldn’t be the “family” type.
This independence stems from growing up with only my bipolar father to raise me and my brother who was so much older than me that I barely know him (8 years older). Kids meant responsibility and I felt I was better suited for business duty than home duty. Plus, I had never been around kids… in fact I was the baby in all my extended family – babies terrified me. I had made a great go of my career and was close to reaching my goals when my fiancé and I reunited after knowing each other from high school. My father had just passed away and I couldn’t imagine getting married or having kids without him – not to mention the expense that these things conjure up. Therefore, I made my position solid that if my man wanted to proceed with me these were the terms he would have to abide by. He agreed and things progressed nicely.
I feel like we have good times and bad… like everyone else. But when they are bad, I’m at such a loss. I inherited the house we live in (debt free), but we have managed to indulge and now find ourselves $40K in debt… all under my name, because his credit is shit. I feel really suffocated that he is not willing to discuss financials, sexual issues, my feelings… etc etc etc, I feel like I have no where to turn.
In an effort to be more healthy for my baby, I have kick a severe marijuana habit. This habit deserves its own post… I was a chronic smoker… all day, every day. It kept my anxiety to a minimum… that and the citalopram I was on. This pushed me to eliminate certain people from my life… which was a good thing. No regrets there, except…
I have no friends now. I have no one to turn to that I can trust. Not even my fiancé can fill that void of a reassuring and encouraging ear. I’m not asking anyone to fill my Dad’s shoes, but he was the only one I could count on in situations like this. Where I’m going with this is that my man said he’d quit smoking cigarettes, but he hasn’t (and he doesn’t smoke pot). In fact, I think his smoking has increased… in connection with his drinking maybe. I’m so tired of hearing the beer can tab pop *clicpsss*! I’m not opposed to a casual and social drink, but a 6 pack every night is excessive. I’m so angry!
I have a midwife appointment to run off too, so I’m going to leave it at this. I wonder if my man will have remembered to meet me there today? He forgot about it yesterday and the appointment we have to get the truck serviced, but apparently remembered all week that he “may” have tickets to a golf tournament this weekend. F*ck… I’m so irritated. He is out of province all next week and I am really looking forward to this time apart. I mean… I’m alone anyways….