Life is stranger than fiction. The following words seem to be a string of convenient lies, not the truth. I am in the middle of getting a separation from my wife, finding a new job, and settling in at a new apartment.
Q came back from her vacation out west determined to make a change. From the second she came in the front door she was full of hate for a supposed house that smelled of pot. This being impossible, it was scented candles. She screamed how I ruin every homecoming.
Coming down from the lovely high that I had indulged in only hours before, body wracked for sleep, endorphins and nerves leaving me twitchy and calm, I knew it was time for me to leave.
She issued the ultimatum pot or her. I hate ultimatums. The crushing weight of imposed control affects me very negatively. I am in control of me and to bow to yet another ultimatum only to bend it back with lies and deceit is more than I can handle. So, yes, I smoke pot and don’t want to stop. If I did, I could, would and would be happy about it. If I choose to stop smoking it will be my decision and irregardless of outside influence. I told her it was time to leave.
The spell was broken. I no longer in love with Q. This has probably been true at some level for a long time. The black ties that bound me were cut while I sleep and dream. Out of respect for me and my family it was time to leave.
So, I did. Things have fallen into place and some details are proving sticky. However, on overall things are much better being free of her and her neurosis. I hope that it will be better for the kids.
Having grown up in a family where my parents were normally arguing, fighting, feeling unloved maybe even hated by my step-father I don’t want this for my children. It’s as if I was programmed to live out the same dynamic that my family had when I was growing up. The rage over stupid minor details, the anger, hate, resentment all of which was being repeated with my children and wife. I searched out a mate who was capable of resenting me. Only finding satisfaction of self when she would throw a scrap of affection or a compliment my way, like a child.
No longer will I help in the abuse of my children. No longer will I feel trapped as Q tells me that.
“I don’t love you, I don’t know if I ever did”
“I want a divorce “
“I hate you “
“I don’t like you”
“Your such a fucking asshole “
“I don’t respect you “
And the list could roll on and on.
Q would say that I left, abandoned the family for wine, women, and song. She would say that I refused to give up my felonious activities, that I disrespected her and our family by naked, drunken, disregard. The dark humor that both perspectives, mine and hers, is correct in some sense haunts me.
My motorcycle was towed today form a spot that is yes, illegal, but I have been parking there for years. I am at a lack of words for how angry I was. I was so angry I went to the garage where the bike was and got on and rode away. I’d be damned if I was going to pay those vulture, scumbag, motherfuckers a penny. Well, a little later the cops show up at my house. Oops, the cop told me to go pay or he would have me arrested. So, I paid the hundred bucks. So frustrating is about a tenth of what I feel. Time to let it go.
I have a job interview today after noon and a weekend of fun lined up, wish me luck.