I battle demons. No, not in a Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester kind of way (although I do admit, fighting with those two would be so much better and well, let's face it, more demons might make it out unscathed because I was too busy staring at Jensen Ackles to shoot the bastards) but in an inner demon way. My demons? never feeling good enough for anybody or anything. Try as I may, I end up falling far short of where I intend(ed) to be.
Take, for example, housework. I am no Martha Stewart. I am not even Tony Stewart. I wake up every morning thinking, "Today is the day I get a ton of crap done in this house, Jason will be so proud of me!" So I work. I try. He comes home, after a 12 hr shift, and starts cleaning what I didn't get to. I get upset, because I don't want him to clean.I want him to come home and rest. He says, "someone has to do it, so, from now on, I'll go to work, bust my butt for 12 hrs and then come home and clean." I tell him I can do it, he says," This house can be clean in 4 hrs. Top to bottom. I know because I've cleaned it in 4 hrs. I'm at work for 12. I don't ask for much." I agree with him. But this is where the feelings of failure take over, because I do try very hard to keep things picked up. I do try even harder because I know how it makes him feel. I do try extremely hard because I hate the way this house looks. Cram 6 people (4 of which are children), 4 cats and 1 very large dog into a 1500 sq. ft. home, it's not going to be sparkling. BUT, I am making an effort. It still gets me, straight to the heart, when he says what he does. Kills me, actually.
I hate waking my husband up. Period. I have never had anyone be as absolutely shitty as he is trying to wake up. He's been asleep on the couch in the tv room since 9:30 AM. At 11:45AM, he told me he wanted to just sleep for another half hour. It's now 1 pm. He yelled at me the last time I tried to wake him up. So, do I go for more abuse or do I let him sleep the day away? Hmmm.....I just tried waking him again. Why did I even do that?
I always have had this inner monologue going...it's constant, and I can't seem to shake it. Ever. It's not that I have voices talking to me (that would be far to easy to explain and therefore, treat) Believe me, I'm not psycho. I'm not schizo. What I am...is torn. Torn between what I want to be and what I am. I don't want to accept defeat. I don't want to accept that who I am isn't good or acceptable for anyone. I HATE these feelings, because I am told that I am worth more than what I think I am, but I can't shake it. It's like, if I do/say/feel something that doesn't agree with someone else, I've failed that other person somehow. Their vision of me is shattered. I've let them down. I've let myself down. I hate that. Loathe it. It happens all the time, though. Someone could say something as simple as, "For next time, let's do this a different way" or "In the future, remember..." or "How could you not see/understand...." and what I hear is: "You're stupid. How could you be so stupid? How do you even function? You're selfish. You don't get it. You never will get it. Give up. Quit. No one wants you. No one wants to be around you. You are a despicable, miserable, horrible, fat, lazy, stupid pile of shit. GIVE UP." Yes, every time someone says something that could be remotely critical, even if completely unintentional, THAT'S what plays in my head. Over...and over...and over. And then, I get defensive. And I go on the defensive. Many arguments have been started with this. Many arguments end with the other telling me what my head was saying to me all along. A marriage ended because of this. And yet...I still try to be better.
Maybe my grandma was right. Maybe I should've listened to her. She told me that no man was going to want me, and I was never going to amount to anything. She said you can't clean, you can't keep a man happy, and there was no point to me trying to find someone else because I'd just make him miserable, too. I think I make my husband miserable. He tells me I don't, that he loves me more than he can ever say...and I believe him. If this stupid nagging in the back of my head would quit, things would be fantastic. But, it won't stop. And I've probably doomed myself once again.
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