Armchair Pop Psychology

I don’t see my therapist again until a week from this coming Tuesday, so hopefully all the trial drama will be behind me (I pray).

One thing I want to discuss with her is why do I get overwhelmed with that feeling that I am doomed and all is lost and will always be lost? Why do I jump all the way to the most negative outcome? I don’t think I’m a particularly negative person on the whole (I hope).

It may be some sort of wonky and absurd way of protecting myself by delivering bad news before it hits me off guard. But that’s really ridiculous since it’s nearly never as bad as I fear.

I don’t want to walk around with the rose colored glasses / pollyanna thing either, but my god there has to be middle ground. This ground is exhausting, not good for my health, and it is incredibly annoying to people around me.

I’m going to talk with her about ways to work on this — something I no doubt should have been working on years and years ago.

I’ve done a bit of reading this morning on narcissists and my god, my poor husband, that’s what he is without a doubt. And it can be so intoxicating to be around. That’s why I worried that anyone after him will be boring by comparison — and chances are they will be — but that’s not necessarily a bad thing! I’ll need to retrain myself. I fully realize that much of my problem separating emotionally from him is that I have “trauma bonded” with him. Eight solid, nonstop years of trauma bonding.

He had this bad habit of putting down my last husband, the good one, and he didn’t know him at all. He constantly called him “boring” but he was not boring. He was smart and funny and a good person — he was a real catch. But my current husband could not stand that a man can be those things and also be humble and interesting.

When he was really mad at me he’d put down my family as “white trash” which is pretty funny. He told me once that it’s in bad taste for my mom to talk about her poor childhood in rural Mississippi because it makes her look bad. Now he’s from a Middle Eastern country, so I feel perhaps this is a cultural thing, but he would not believe me when I told him Americans aren’t bothered by stories like this, in fact they are enriching in their own way.

But the worst thing he would do when he was in that mode is put down my brother whom he had never met. He was so jealous of my brother’s accomplishments and felt totally inadequate compared to him so he berated him, which even in my stupid state seemed utterly ridiculous. But there was no getting through to him.

I can understand why my husband is the way he is due to the turmoil of his home country and the way the family left, and how the family went from upper class-ish to poor in the UK and none of the family spoke English and it was up to my husband who was small for his age at ten years old, to learn the language and navigate a new country and new culture. That’s a whole lot to deal with and I admire anyone who gets through that unscathed.

The dynamic in the home was really awful too. His mom was gorgeous and young when she had him and resented him for most of his life because she was told she had an amazing singing voice and because she was a mother she gave up her dream of singing professionally. Meanwhile she cut her husband off from affection and took her little boy everywhere with her. He grew up surrounded by women pinching his cheeks and shopping, shopping, and more shopping.

So his father begins to resent him because his son took his place in his wife’s affections, but worse than the resentment is a true feeling of his father being threatened by his son in every way. It was Shakespearean, honestly. It was something very foreign to me. And it was horrible to witness — I could not really believe what my eyes and ears were telling and showing me in regards to how badly his father seemed to want to set his son up to fail.

Yet in his home country, even as a small boy, my husband was encouraged to be outrageous and demanding, in other words he was really entitled and spoiled and he still is to this day. But he’s got this enormous false pride that prevents him from starting at the bottom and working his way up. Therefore he never accomplishes anything.

He takes great pride in looking the part because he believe it intimidates people. As I’ve said before, everything he does is to shield his inferiority complex, at least that’s my take on the situation. He surrounds himself with younger people who can’t see past his charade yet. The minute someone is on to him, he begins to hate them and write them out of his life.

One of his favorite pastimes is simply disagreeing with people for the sake of disagreeing or to make himself seem confident and a deep thinker.

The saddest part is he is sort of a renaissance man. He writes beautiful poetry and he composes music. If he stuck with reality (his least favorite word) he’d find that he was good enough as he is and that he didn’t need to put up a front.

Enough about him. He’s not in my future so he’s really not worth all this space here. But it’s because nothing is just black and white, and he’s an abusive asshole and also an affectionate and generous man, that make all of this so hard.

I don’t know what to wear to court this week. The lawyer doesn’t want us to look too fancy. He’s asked my husband not to wear his usual tie. I wonder if I’ll even be called to the stand. OMG, I’ve never had that experience before. When his lawyer preps me tomorrow I’ll get a better idea. I think I may have to take an ativan that morning or I might be a trembling mess.

I’m going to swim tomorrow and Tuesday morning. And on Tuesday afternoon they need me at the kids center so I’ll be busy up until the Wednesday morning court case, thank goodness.

I put out an SOS on the Chump Lady website yesterday and the outpouring of support, encouragement, and empathy moved me to tears. I can’t express how grateful I am for that website. If you know anyone who has been cheated on, please recommend the site to them.

I’m more sane than I was yesterday. No telling how I’ll be tomorrow. For anyone reading this, I’m sorry, and thank you.




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