Hypocrite

I’m on the edge of a lot of things. My life always seems to end up right back here- my things (and not even within range of all of it)  haphazardly stuffed into a uselessly small duffel bag, while I flee my supposed home and seek refuge on someone else’s floor. I have a joint in my purse, and only one- I cling to it so needy that I can’t bring myself to smoke it when I feel like my heart is going to explode in my chest if I don’t- God, what if things get worse and I don’t have it? I think it’s time to go back on antidepressants. I’m not coping and nobody else has any sympathy or understanding for it.

Life is teaching me moment-to-moment, that I need to be a heartless, cruel, insensitive bitch. And I find myself increasingly willing to comply to that expectation. I used to be a sweet girl. Now I can’t even muster the energy it takes to give a shit.

5:46am. I should be asleep. But I slept while everyone was awake, and I’m awake when everyone is asleep. I’m sick of people “putting up with” me.  I’m sick of people “dealing” with me. I’m sick of people altogether. When I try to tell anyone that I’m so depressed that I consider suicide hourly, they tell me I’m being dramatic. They get angry. They lecture and tell me what they think is right.  So apparently how I feel is wrong and I have no right to feel this way.  I cry all the time.  I even cry when my fiancee makes love to me. Because it reminds me that the last time I got to sleep in my own bed was the last time we made love. And I find myself thinking that losing him will only be a matter of time. I was just kicked out of our house and we’re getting married in 5 months.

How will we make it that far? How will we make it as a married couple living apart? How do we cultivate crucial trust after we’re married, that we’re supposed to cultivate now? I’m not seeing a workable equation here, and I’m completely overwhelmed by the urge to cut my losses and start over. I feel like that’s what I’m being asked to do.

My former house mate (yes, the one who excised me from my own home) is a total control freak. When I first moved in, he accused me of stealing his towels. At the time, my room was upstairs and that’s where everyone in the house showered, so I could understand the validity of the suspicion. However, my saying I didn’t have them wasn’t enough- he made me go through all of my laundry and all of my clothes before realizing that he had simply forgotten them somewhere in the darkness of our basement laundry room. I received no apology for his behavior. Then, after we took in another roommate, who had a son that would stay with us on weekends, he blamed me for the routine disappearance of the cups in the house. They were found in the spare bedroom downstairs, except one, which I had been keeping in our bathroom. He blamed them all on me and told me not to touch his things. As the cups were largely used by our renters son, and the cups were kept in the community kitchen cupboards, I was not aware that people could keep off-limits, personal belongings in there. I  was also the new member of the house, and didn’t know whose cups were whose. Upon my correcting him, I did not receive an apology for that, either.

During that winter, my fiancée put weather-stripping on the doors and windows (the foam strip kind that has a sticky side that you peel paper off of). Well, the door must have found some to get stuck to, and ripped it off when someone opened the door (which I didn’t notice), and the house mate accused me of ripping it off of the door frame. When I explained that I had no idea what he was talking about, I still received no apology.

He then began demanding rent from me, though I was sleeping in my fiancée’s room (he owns half of the house) and he was paying half of the house bills whilst not even living in the house. Payment of any moneys should simply have been between myself and my fiancée for that reason.

For the better part of the last year, I did my best to stay in my room unless absolutely necessary to leave it. I waited until he went to work to leave my room, and often refused to come home until I was sure he’d be in bed. Because I knew he didn’t particularly like me, or like my being there, I avoided him like the fucking plague. I even went through the trouble of getting a second fridge from a friend, and setting up a microwave downstairs so that I only had to go upstairs to use the stove. Even then- I am ashamed to say that I opted to eat instant food, or take out instead, because I had so much anxiety about feeling unwanted in my own home. Times when I would run into him were often met by “sit down house meetings” where he dictated the way I would behave and what I was and was not allowed to do. He often asked me to do dishes that he made dirty because he couldn’t remember making them. I never argued.

After a year of only seeing my fiancée on weekends, I finally made the jump to move out of town to be with him, when I’d managed to find a decent job. I had a good staff, I had a great boss. I was starting to really love my job, and the financial freedom that came with it. My medical was about to kick in– things looked really great for me. But then he lost his job, and the living arrangement we had suddenly fell apart, and I was forced to quit and move back home with no job prospects. We’ve been back for a month. I’ve lost track of the number of jobs I’ve applied to. I just had a job interview and was hired by a good company. My position doesn’t start for another month. I’m ineligible for E.I. I’m even ineligible for social assistance. I can’t even qualify for welfare. I’m a type 1 diabetic with no medical. It costs me $170 for 14 days worth of insulin. That doesn’t even cover the $40 for needles, the $100 for test strips, the $140 for the pills I need to keep my kidneys functioning. I’ve also been paying for all of mine and my fiancée’s food. I’ve been dragging our asses to the food bank to help supplement, and accepting groceries from my Mom. I’m trying.

But he thinks that all we do is all he sees. He assumes that the 10 hours a day he isn’t home is just us paused in position, not trying. He says his money is tight. I’m paying for a wedding on no income. I’m buying food for two on no income. I’m paying medical NEEDS (yes, as in a DAY without insulin will KILL me– try living with your way out of this world every day when you’re suicidal- it’s a constant temptation). HE IS BROKE?!

And the story continues. My fiancée got me into Guild Wars, a MMORPG that my Mom also plays. After several months of regular playing, and after my fiancée moved back into the house from where he was staying out of town, we began to have game nights at our house, and our house mate told my Mom that she could use his computer to play any time, to just reboot the computer and sign into the Windows XP guest account. He even asked if I knew how (and I didn’t, because I’d never touched his computer- EVER) and showed me how to do it. After a couple of times playing at home, Mom wanted me to use his and she would use mine, as I am 5’11” and my computer was cramped into a corner on the edge of a desk. My chair is pretty well in the closet that sits adjacent to the desk. About 6 months earlier I’d asked if I could move my desktop computer downstairs (again, in an attempt to minimize contact) and my house mate made a big stink about it.

Well, the day before yesterday, we again decided to have a game night, to take advantage of Wintersday 2 in Guild Wars. We were playing and he came home particularly late, and starts mumbling irritatedly at my being at his computer. So I assumed he wanted it, I logged off without complaint, and planned to go downstairs and play wirelessly from my laptop (yes, I can play, but it’s a p1 with less than 1.5GB of memory, and a stock video card- it doesn’t play well). He marched back into the room after I told him I was off and demanded money from me. He basically called me a free-loading bum who is below a welfare collector. My Mom told him she was leaving before she got angry (and she is supposedly one of his best friends) and tried to walk past him to get her boots. He grabbed her around the shoulders from behind, trying to pin her arms over her head, yelling at her to “get the fuck out of” HIS HOUSE. He does not own the entire house, and my Mother is my guest. He tore a hole in her shirt grabbing her, and scared her so much that she sobbed and had panic attacks for two days. I scared myself. I almost threw myself at him. If I had, I’m not sure he’d have walked away. I was so scared to escalate it that I froze. Part of me feels guilty that I didn’t rescue her from him.

It pretty well ended with my being thrown out of the house, with nobody trying to defend me but my Mom. My poor Mom. She’s heartbroken. Somehow, I think inside, she loved him- not just like a friend or a brother- but genuinely. And I don’t think he ever appreciated it. He has always insisted that he was not like his cruel, control-freak of a Father, but he’s a hypocrite who lies to himself. He’s one of the most controlling people I’ve ever met. And for him to become violent over something so pathetic. I can’t think about him without wanting to hit him in the balls with a sledgehammer. I keep seeing him in my head, attacking my Mother. My fiancée was so angry that all he could do was stand there and shake. I’ve never seen him so angry.

Days since, I’ve been feeling despondent, at best. This isn’t the first time that I’ve had to flee my own home with only one place to go. As much as I hate to admit it, with my fiancée not fighting for me or asking me to stay, I feel let down and unwanted. We won’t see each other very much anymore- and it’s already been like that for so long. I’m afraid of myself, and angry that nobody hears me. I have devious thoughts about how much they’ll deserve it when they find my body. I’ve willingly let my precarious health go unmonitored. I haven’t medicated. I should be in a coma. I pray to a God I don’t even believe in to take me. But my stubborn heart keeps beating. And I hate it. I hate each pulse, each breath, each blink.

I cry all the time. I sleep all the time so I can stop crying. I’m only awake when I know I’m all alone. I don’t care anymore. About anything. First my Step-daughter’s Mom, and the ongoing, exhaustive court battle. Then my Grandfather’s Cancer. Then my Father-In Law getting sick all the time. Then losing my job. Then not finding work. Now this.

I feel myself giving up.

K

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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 02/07/2010.

One Response to “Hypocrite”

  1. Sometimes I love you so much it hurts. I can’t breathe, my eyes water involuntarily, I cry out a wordless cry, a blessing and a heartbeat into the universe, my heart breaks and is reborn. There is so much about you that has blessed my life, in the darker moments, your voice, your laughter, your joy, the dancing of light in your soul, even the way the darkness sometimes washes over you, sometimes I think is an outward manifestation of some of my inner passions. I wish I expressed them as fully as you manage at so young an age.

    I am your mother, and I am so proud of you, how far you have come, how, even in dark moments you strive to reach towards Life, towards Joy, towards Love, Compassion, Empathy. I hope that I have taught you these things as they are so fully embraced in my own life, but it took me so long to get there, and here you are…. at 24…. what I have only learned to be after 40. How I love you Nova, all that you are… flaws, diabetes, depressions, dances, joy, love, everything…. blessed mother that I am.

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