I'm hurt. I believe any 'normal' person would be, and some have even gone as far as to say 'red flag! that is abusive behavior!'... but they don't see the life I live, or understand how magically good it is, in spite of everything evil that has happened to prevent it.
If there were someone for me to safely talk to right now, I would. There isn't, and I can't sit in my own thought stew and fester. Doing precisely that is what has lead to my current emotional state. Then that last straw drifted down from the sky and it's weight broke my back.
Looking at all of these "Happy Couples", their smiling faces, cute kids, outwardly beautiful life makes me feel sick. For years, I looked like the happy little housewife when I was anything but- appearances really mean nothing. If I could just get someone to understand that.
It is the little things that matter. The seemingly unimportant, mundane details of life which, when put together over time have a cumulative effect which forms a picture of reality. Not a facade, not the "Happy Couple". An actual mural of reality, expertly painted by all of those mundane details, remarks and events... Anyone can photoshop a happy picture, only reality can paint a mural on the walls of our minds and hearts.
As much as I would like people to see us as the happy couple, not even a single picture of us together exists- Not one in 2 1/2 years (that I am aware of). Worse, is the fact that publicly I'm single. Publicly I can not distribute any information about the reality which exists within these walls, in our day to day life. I'm not permitted to present myself as a happily spoken for, content woman who is not on the market... He will not allow a "corporate identity" to be presented to anyone, for any reason.
Meanwhile, I see the picture of what he still holds in such high esteem... the picture of the happy family, of what he feels he had- Even though it has been admitted otherwise- the perfect happy picture which he so very proudly distributed in as many places as he could. Yet he claims to "enjoy my company", he claims to "like having me here", which I can only assume is some warped, twisted, mangled way of saying he cares, or is interested, or in some way attached- because he will not say those things. Nor will he allow me to say them to him... that maybe hurts the most. Anything I say is perceived as shallow, misguided, a lie. That the words I speak are just words, they mean nothing... which couldn't ever be farther from the truth. Perhaps I am an anomaly in the world of women, I say the things I actually mean and I mean the things I say.
When I use the word love, it is not tossed around lightly. It is never spoken in jest, it is spoken with reverence for all that it was designed to encompass.
The years I spent trying to build the facade of a happy family, taught me just how fucking dysfunctional we all are. That even though a picture may say a thousand words, they are often a work of fiction.
Trying to present a photoshopped picture to the world *is* something to be ashamed of. To try and create happiness where there is none is a lie, and I am ashamed, I was ashamed when I did just that. I know better now, and I knew better then. False representation of any situation has no good final outcome.
On the same token, falsely representing something good, wholesome, beautiful even, by not representing it at all is even worse. Hiding a reality which can only be clearly seen over time, through the seemingly unimportant and mundane details, as the entire mural comes into view *is* something to be ashamed of.
Our life circumstances are most definitely not ideal, but then, who's are? The "happy couple" with the corporate identity who are always putting on a face for the world?
Most people would be ashamed, I guess. I'm not kidding myself there, I know what this looks like compared to what it is (which I'm not even sure of, since it hasn't been defined as anything). There is this saying though, that I have heard all too often as of late and found frighteningly true- "You make your own reality"... and we have, and it has been one of the hardest things I could have chosen to do at this point (even further complicated by his ex wife, who with malice attempted to wipe him clean from the slate of society), but we succeeded. We have something to be proud of. Something that most people will honestly never know they are missing out on. That *is* something to be proud of. That *is* something worth sharing even if it doesn't fit the societal norm, I've never fit any mold why start now?
I refuse to continue to be ashamed of my mistakes. I made them, I own them. I learned from them. They do not define me, but they presented an opportunity for personal growth, and through them I have become who I am today. Without them, I wouldn't be equipped to appreciate life as I do now.
I thought that was understood. I ASSumed that I was not something to be ashamed of because of it. I was lead to believe that I was of value.
Is it so much to want honesty? Active exclusions of reality is, in effect, a lie.
If there were someone for me to safely talk to right now, I would. There isn't, and I can't sit in my own thought stew and fester. Doing precisely that is what has lead to my current emotional state. Then that last straw drifted down from the sky and it's weight broke my back.
Looking at all of these "Happy Couples", their smiling faces, cute kids, outwardly beautiful life makes me feel sick. For years, I looked like the happy little housewife when I was anything but- appearances really mean nothing. If I could just get someone to understand that.
It is the little things that matter. The seemingly unimportant, mundane details of life which, when put together over time have a cumulative effect which forms a picture of reality. Not a facade, not the "Happy Couple". An actual mural of reality, expertly painted by all of those mundane details, remarks and events... Anyone can photoshop a happy picture, only reality can paint a mural on the walls of our minds and hearts.
As much as I would like people to see us as the happy couple, not even a single picture of us together exists- Not one in 2 1/2 years (that I am aware of). Worse, is the fact that publicly I'm single. Publicly I can not distribute any information about the reality which exists within these walls, in our day to day life. I'm not permitted to present myself as a happily spoken for, content woman who is not on the market... He will not allow a "corporate identity" to be presented to anyone, for any reason.
Meanwhile, I see the picture of what he still holds in such high esteem... the picture of the happy family, of what he feels he had- Even though it has been admitted otherwise- the perfect happy picture which he so very proudly distributed in as many places as he could. Yet he claims to "enjoy my company", he claims to "like having me here", which I can only assume is some warped, twisted, mangled way of saying he cares, or is interested, or in some way attached- because he will not say those things. Nor will he allow me to say them to him... that maybe hurts the most. Anything I say is perceived as shallow, misguided, a lie. That the words I speak are just words, they mean nothing... which couldn't ever be farther from the truth. Perhaps I am an anomaly in the world of women, I say the things I actually mean and I mean the things I say.
When I use the word love, it is not tossed around lightly. It is never spoken in jest, it is spoken with reverence for all that it was designed to encompass.
The years I spent trying to build the facade of a happy family, taught me just how fucking dysfunctional we all are. That even though a picture may say a thousand words, they are often a work of fiction.
Trying to present a photoshopped picture to the world *is* something to be ashamed of. To try and create happiness where there is none is a lie, and I am ashamed, I was ashamed when I did just that. I know better now, and I knew better then. False representation of any situation has no good final outcome.
On the same token, falsely representing something good, wholesome, beautiful even, by not representing it at all is even worse. Hiding a reality which can only be clearly seen over time, through the seemingly unimportant and mundane details, as the entire mural comes into view *is* something to be ashamed of.
Our life circumstances are most definitely not ideal, but then, who's are? The "happy couple" with the corporate identity who are always putting on a face for the world?
Most people would be ashamed, I guess. I'm not kidding myself there, I know what this looks like compared to what it is (which I'm not even sure of, since it hasn't been defined as anything). There is this saying though, that I have heard all too often as of late and found frighteningly true- "You make your own reality"... and we have, and it has been one of the hardest things I could have chosen to do at this point (even further complicated by his ex wife, who with malice attempted to wipe him clean from the slate of society), but we succeeded. We have something to be proud of. Something that most people will honestly never know they are missing out on. That *is* something to be proud of. That *is* something worth sharing even if it doesn't fit the societal norm, I've never fit any mold why start now?
I refuse to continue to be ashamed of my mistakes. I made them, I own them. I learned from them. They do not define me, but they presented an opportunity for personal growth, and through them I have become who I am today. Without them, I wouldn't be equipped to appreciate life as I do now.
I thought that was understood. I ASSumed that I was not something to be ashamed of because of it. I was lead to believe that I was of value.
Is it so much to want honesty? Active exclusions of reality is, in effect, a lie.
No comments:
Post a Comment