Choosing to be an Asshole

I had an epiphany on the way to work.... I think....

For a while now I've been questioning whether or not I'm CHOOSING to be a heartless husk of a human towards my husband as a childish, passive aggressive way of making him "pay" for his wrongdoings.

I don't think I'm choosing anymore. Logically, couldn't one safely say that if you had two choices - to be happy or miserable, you would choose happy? Because it's easier and a lot more fun and fulfilling. Right? Everyone would choose that. So am I just a big asshole? Or am I stuck? I guess now that it's written down it's really not an epiphany.... those get you somewhere. That train of thought just got me no where. Oh well, story of my miserable life lately.

He suggested last night that I get on antidepressants. HA! No thanks, buddy. I don't need a pill to make me happy. I need to find where I left my soul. It makes me incredibly sad that there are no answers to my conundrum. I wish someone could tell me exactly what to do and poof! it'd be fixed. Would I listen though, is the question.

My muse is dead now too. I thought killing it would make it better, but now I just feel even more alone than I did before.

No more inspiration.

No more overflow.

I just want to get through today. And then tomorrow. And then the next day. And then the next.

I painted last night. I made a painting for my parents for their Christmas gift.

I'm pretty sure they will like it. I like it. I would totally hang it in my own home. It's oil pastels on acrylic. I've never used oil pastels until last night. I enjoyed it. I was covered in it by the time I was done. I enjoy it when the project is messy. I like using my hands. I like losing myself in the process.

I also made a scarf for each of my band members. It was difficult choosing which color and type of yarn for them. I think I picked the correct colors though. J's black and it was the easiest yarn to make a scarf with. Just like my friendship with him. So easy. And ironically, I have to go purchase another ball of it today because I didn't have enough of it to make an entire scarf. T's is orange and soft and beautiful. Z's is grey and wasn't easy to make, but it is a very forgiving yarn, so my mistakes aren't visible. Funny, huh? Like I said, I picked the perfect yarn for each. In the middle of each scarf I am leaving a small note to tell them how thankful I am for them and that I love them. I think it's a good gift. Made with love.

Until the next time I'm super pissed, I bid you farewell Mr. Blog.

"I can't live like this anymore, let's go to counseling."

Le sigh.
That's what my husband said to me last night.
YOU CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS FOR MUCH LONGER?!?!? IT'S BEEN TWO WEEKS YOU SONOFABITCH.
I'm not ready for counseling. He isn't ready to hear all of the things I want to say to him.
I'm so tired of everyone assuming that I should feel better by now. I'm completely justified to my feelings. No one knows what it's like to be married to him and no one knows ALL of the shit. No one but me, and unfortunately, now you.
Sometimes I feel like maybe I don't want it to work out. Sometimes I feel like I've punished myself enough and I should just leave. Sometimes I secretly wish he'll self destruct and ruin it for me so I am not stuck doing the dirty work. I'm a selfish motherfucker, aren't I?
I'm leaving the state this weekend with a girlfriend. I'm just going a few hours away to a small concert. I know I'll pay for it when I get back. He'll feel terrible about me being away from him for that long. He'll wonder who I cheated on him with. He'll wonder how much I had to drink. He'll wonder and wonder and wonder.
I want to be a free bird for just a minute. I want and probably need to remember what it's like to have no one to share anything with. I need to remember what it's like to be lonely BY CHOICE. Maybe then I would appreciate my relationship. Or maybe I wouldn't.... What if it didn't work? What if it made me realize how much happier I was when I was alone? Was I happier? I can't remember anymore...
Everything is so damn unclear these days. Blurred. Gross. I'm a vile person to be around. I'm negative and cynical. Angry and puffy eyed.
I wish he would leave me alone for just a few minutes though. Even when I'm not around him, I still feel him. I also feel like the world's biggest asshole for saying that.
He's such a good guy, he really is. He loves me so fucking much, too. He tells me every day. This morning he asked me to pray for us and I told him I didn't want to. He told me to pray for us, again. So I started and he stopped me because he could tell I was only doing it because he was making me. He doesn't get it. I'm pissed at God. I can't pray right now. I'm mad at life, I'm mad at the tunnels and roads I have taken to get me in this place because when I was taking those turns and twists, I REALLY thought them out and prayed for guidance and here I am. Alone. Sad. Angry. Unable to move.
He wants me to be happy again.
So do I love, so do I.

Small pieces of warmth

As part of mine and my husband's journey to get back to where we started, we've been advised to try date night a couple of times a month.
Last night was our first date night. Sober date night.
We went to dinner and then the movie theatre.
He wore my favorite shirt on him and has grown his beard out a little because he knows I like it like that.
While at dinner I found myself looking at the giant aquarium in the restaurant, letting my eyes blur and my mind wander. I knew that if he asked what I was thinking about, I could easily tell him I was just looking at the fish. I sat there and stared at that damn thing for what seemed like hours, and I think, looking back to yesterday, really attempting to not have any feelings. It's not like I was TRYING to be distant, but something inside of me keeps telling me to keep those guards on duty, to keep my mote full, my bridge drawn.
At the movie he told me to put my arm in his. I did. Then he looked at me. He looked at me and I thought for maybe a second he was looking at me like he used to. Like I was the thing he was in love with again, just for a second. Although I very well could have been imagining it. When he looked at me like that though... I felt a small warmth, just for a second, towards him. Maybe there is still something left? I don't know yet, because I can't feel anything very often right now, but what if that small amount of heat I felt last night means there are still a few embers left to work with? I am still trying to decide if it was heat, or pity... sadly. I do feel pity for him right now. He's a mess. He misses me. He's lonely. He's confused and scared. But those feelings he has only make me more angry because no one felt pity for me for the last two years while I felt all of those things (no one meaning, my husband.) He was too drunk to notice. How do I let that go? I have no tools, no knowledge of this terrain.
I know the only way I will be able to get back to where we want to be in our marriage, I'm going to have to make an conscious decision to let him back in. It's a terrifying thought.... It's a scary, raw, open wound.... I'm not ready to let my guard down yet and that is so hard to explain to him.
Maybe I'm indulging in my own pathetic sorrow? Is that what I am doing?
I was driving down the road today and a vision of me ten years from now was allowed to cross into my consciousness. I let myself go into the thought, dreamily, and I saw.... I saw him.
A long, complicated, drawn out romance. A friendship that has been put through the wringer. A broken heart. Regrets. Secrets. Passion. Understanding. Longing.
That's all I have for today. So far.

I swear I'm not a lunatic.... I swear?

Maybe if I wrote to you, dear blog, more than every six months, my blogs wouldn't be such a dramatic roller coaster. So much happens in life.... and here I am.

My husband is an alcoholic and narcotic addict. He's in intensive outpatient treatment currently. He is only doing this because he knew I was about to leave him. He is taking his sobriety out on me. He blames me. He expects too much from me. I am an empty husk of a human.

 He's been sober now for just over a week. It came to head two weeks ago. I came home from work and told him, as straight forward as I could, that his abuse issues are ruining our marriage. He decided to look into treatment and here we are. A little over a week. One day at a time.

He doesn't understand why I'm not jumping for joy. He assumed if he went to treatment and cleaned up, he would get his old Nikki back. It's funny, really.... I would LOVE to have the old Nikki back. I miss her too, you selfish asshole. I can't, unfortunately, just flip a switch and be happy and light again. If I could, don't you think I would? It's not the case though.
I'm fucking pissed off.
I'm tired.
I don't trust.
I feel more alone than I've ever felt in my life.
I am disappointed in him.
I am disappointed in myself.
I want to run away.
I want to be in love.
I want my soul back.

This is truly the only place I can come and be completely honest (silly, I know, since it is a public forum, but hey, if you are bored enough to read my bullshit, then you're the one with the problems, not me.) I wish I could tell him exactly what I think of him. It's not just that he broke a thousand promises to me when he vowed to be my husband. I didn't JUST start dreaming of my life THAT DAY. I've been dreaming about my life and my future since the minute I could.

Now, almost 30 years later, I feel stripped of that indulgence. Stripped of who I thought I was. Stripped of my pride, my strength, my drive, my ego, my..... self. I bounce back and forth from feeling absolutely nothing, to feeling so many horrible things simultaneously. There's a constant conversation going on in my head during those times, and I can't get everyone to shut up long enough for me to pick through them and sort them out. It's like everyone is yelling at once, butting in line, inpatient for their turn to talk.

I can be mad all I want, because no one can take my anger away from me, but when I get right down to the quick, to the bare bone, I know I'm actually angry with me. I made this disgusting bed and now I'm lying in it. And lying in it, in the verbal sense of the word.

It's the only thing I can control these days, my words/actions/other life. I'm living another part of mine devoid of him. It's really the only thing keeping me grounded.... or keeping me in denial maybe. I want to feel. I must feel SOMETHING or I'll question my own existence. Isn't it better to feel than not to feel? Isn't that the exact definition of living? To feel? I decided, in hindsight, subconsciously, to continue living my life regardless of if he keeps up with it or not. I moved forward. I found pleasure in small things that I am clinging on to with an alligator's strength. No one can take these things away from me, no one. Without them I will fade away into a dust. A non-feeling, non-existing, liar. I will allow myself this indulgence because it's the only one I have left.

For the first time in I can't recall, I felt something.... I wish I could put it into words. Desired? True passion? Openness? I can't put my finger on it. A glimmer of a memory from my youth. It was palpable, a true presence.  I acknowledged it instantly and like a drug, craved more. Screamed for more! It was life giving, truly quenching.

It is my muse. A thing I can manipulate if I want to, but I choose not to for fear of causing pain, although I think if I am to be completely honest here in this place, the pain is now unavoidable. It's brought out the poet inside of me. I'm selfishly drinking it up, large gulps. I can write again. I am writing again. Songs are pouring out of me at the same speed in which I am drinking from my fountain of muse.

One day, many years from now, I hope to read this particular entry and laugh at how silly and young I once was. For today though, these words are what is written on my heart. Keep them safe, Blog.