I worked at the kids center this a.m. and then met my husband downtown. He put a quarter in the meter and we walked to a park bench. I said to him, “How did I get so much taller than you?”
I thought I was about 2″ taller than him, but my god it’s closer to 4″. He looks good, though. He’s a small guy so he needs to watch his weight a bit. Smoking helps with that.
We talked about the case and he gave me some money and I thanked him. He was still a bit revved up from the deposition yesterday and puffing himself up as the Star of the Deposition. His attorney told him at the break that he might be saying too much, but no, my husband corrected him. He’s speaking just the right amount! These people need to understand!
No one can tell him anything. No one. (He’s kinda like my mom that way).
He had on new designer sunglasses, a shirt I’ve never seen and two silly looking silver bracelets. For a guy who has NO INCOME WHATSOEVER he does okay, doesn’t he? His hair is always trimmed very nicely these days. Perhaps his OW is a hair person. But it’s got kind of a Cupie Doll look to it that I don’t care for. And his thick eyebrows were trimmed. He still spends more time than I do in front of a mirror.
He looked so small. And I realized as I sat looking at him that, while I still feel an attraction to him when we talk on the phone, I didn’t feel attracted to him in person today. Sad, but a relief at the same time.
We never were physically compatible. I never would have looked at a much smaller man than me romantically if we had met in a traditional way. None of my former lovers and husbands have been shorter than me. But we met online in a chatroom and after several months he flew to meet me, and it’s been a circus ever since.
You’ve heard of the expression “small man syndrome” and I’ve sort of believed it exists but I didn’t think it applied to my husband. Now I realize that it absolutely does. His manner of dressing and speaking and behaving is all about appearing larger than life. He’s not happy that he’s so small.
I am 5’8″ (okay, a little shorter due to age) and there’s just no way for me to look petite. I was aware of his height when I bought shoes. Now I don’t have to think about that.
I hope one day that I am with a man who is bigger than me. One who will hold me and make me feel safe.
I didn’t overstay my welcome, and after about 15 minutes we walked back to my car, we hugged, and I drove away. We’re both in a fog and disbelief that this very long wait for this case, almost 18 months now, is almost over. It doesn’t seem possible.
My parents are fighting terribly and it’s both their fault, but a little more my mom’s fault. My dad’s normal amount of patience with her seems to be waning perhaps due to his illness so he’s fighting with her more than swallowing it like he usually does.
It’s so sad to admit, but my mother cannot change. She’s a really smart woman, but so unbelievably incapable of self reflection. Everything is always someone else’s fault. And I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.
And due to my rough childhood and lots of early childhood abuse from her and trauma from my dad and his temper, I look at her when she’s about to cry and I can rarely comfort her. I am sorry to admit that I actually feel a bit repulsed and then immediately I’m filled with shame for being a bad daughter. Whatever I should be feeling, however, is broken or absent.
We all walk on egg shells around mom. We always have and always will. I’ve tried many, many ways to get through to her and just when I think it’s sinking in, she proves to me she heard nothing. And wow, when she feels wronged she can be so incredibly hurtful.
My dad told me today that if he were 50 he’d be out of here and I believe him. But how unbelievably sad to be 80, on oxygen, and sometimes a walker, suffering from COPD, and you hate your wife enough to leave her.
Jesus, how’d you end up in this situation? Well, in this case I know the answer to that question. But my god it’s sad to end two lifetimes this way.
And my mom wants to be here for him but she isn’t a comfort to him. I think I see fear on the faces of both my parents as they realize how close they are to, well, not being here any more. And they are only 20 and 22 years older than I am.
I swear I’d rather live alone with nine cats and fourteen dogs than live with a spouse I hate.
Tonight at dinner they both got a bit animated talking about a sensitive subject. My mom got loud and she swore and I found myself almost ready to panic. Her intensity and volume was too much for me. I almost said, “Mom, please. I’m too nervous.” But thankfully she stopped. It made my heart pound.
I’ve had a bit of PTSD of late when my mother and dad are fighting. It takes me way, way back to a time when their arguments caused me great fear. I tremble and hide and don’t want to come out.
I’m going to want my own place. No doubt about it.