Wednesday, February 1, 2012
There’s a skinny woman inside me begging to get out.
I can usually shut the bitch up with cookies.
----------------------------------
I have a few personality defects. Everyone does. Mostly I don't think about them. If they bother other people, they can take it or leave it.
One of them is a desire for control. It worked to our advantage in my relationship with Jay because he needed a manager, and appreciated my taking over most decisions, and he was clear enough when things or directions were important to him that I knew when it was important to defer.
Now, with Daughter and the Nugget, I am making a real effort to back off. Daughter will do or not do things with Nugget, and I sometimes have to bite my tongue. Even when she asks my advice, I'll give her some options, things to consider, and then I'll end with, "But you're the Mommy. You know best. You know her best, and your instincts will be good."
Of course my halo slips often. Like "Um, shouldn't she have a hat on?" Daughter is also getting better at resisting me, "She hates hats, and that jacket is very warm." So far I've been good enough that I can be proud of myself.
There is one defect that I do struggle with, because it directly affects me. I tend to carry old resentment. The more I examine it, the more it seems to be bound up with Ex#2. Even 30 years after leaving him, I still get flashes of annoyance at him, and it's not even anything he has done recently - it's all old old old stuff that I can't seem to let go of.
For example, every time I clean the lint filter in the dryer, I think of him and feel smoldering anger.
Every! Single! Time! For 30 years! I'm tired of feeling that anger and wish I could stop it, but I can't.
Back then I would occasionally ask him to move laundry from the washer to the dryer, or get a load out of the dryer and bring it to me for hanging and folding. And every time he'd dutifully clean the lint filter.
Now, the proper way to clear the lint filter is to catch an edge of the lint blanket and roll it up and out off the screen, right?
He'd press his fingers on the top of the middle of the lint and rub as hard as he could, which forced most of the lint through the screen and into the air. There'd be a few balls formed, which he'd lift out. After a few loads of his cleaning the filter, everything within 20 feet of the laundry room would be covered with a layer of lint.
I showed him how to do it neatly over and over, and then I'd walk in and he'd be standing in a cloud of lint, furiously rubbing the screen again. He never learned. Eventually I gave up and would have to drop whatever I was doing, no matter what, to go hang his shirts before the wrinkles set. And when I walked past him sitting there with his feet up, dozing, waiting for dinner, I'd get angry.
There was no point in telling him that it was ok to spread the lint if he'd vacuum it up. He would vacuum if I asked him to, but he'd crash the beater head into everything, knocking over plants and lamps and scarring wood furniture. Then when he changed the bag, he'd squash the full bag into the kitchen garbage can opening up, and a cloud of dust would envelope everything in the kitchen. He never learned how to vacuum, either.
He also lied about having done things he never did, like when he swore that he'd registered toddler Daughter for the company Christmas party, but when we arrived, she was not allowed in because she'd never been registered. He had forgotten, and after the deadline passed, he lied rather than admit he'd forgotten. Or this or that or the other thing.
There were so many things like that, and when I am reminded of them now, I get flashbacks and feel the anger in full force all over again.
I grew to hate him.
Throughout my life, there have been people who "done me wrong" in one way or another, like the guy who took credit (and the award and promotion) for my work, or the guys who lied to me on topics they knew were important to me, and so on. Even Jay bugged the hell out of me occasionally, like when I'd leave him alone in the den thinking he was working (he telecommuted the last year he worked) and I'd walk in with a sandwich for him and find him deep in a computer game. Which meant that we'd have to cancel the evening plans because he had stuff due the next day.
I remember all of that, but I no longer feel the anger or frustration. In many cases I feel sorry for the miscreant because I understand what led them to do what they did, even if I don't agree with their motives, or I find the story amusing now. Now, it's all just stuff that happened.
Why can't I let it go where Ex#2 is concerned?
Possibly because he never listened to me. Never gave any credit to anything I said. Never admitted there was any kind of problem. Never seemed to care about my feelings. Never admitted any fault. Never said Oops. According to Daughter, to this day he's the same. And maybe knowing that he's still alive, still the same, still won't admit fault, maybe that's why I still resent him. (Plus, he still hasn't admitted hiding assets at the divorce.)
I don't know. I just wish I could let it go. I'm tired of being angry at him. Tired of him intruding into my laundry days.
.
