So, let me share the reasons I haven’t written in a couple of weeks except for my last sad excerpt. The main reason is because I got distracted from my misery…by Chef.
It is weird how I had settled into a routine in the couple of months I lived at the hotel, and moving into my tiny, real-life ghetto apartment was somewhat of a shock to my system. I’ve lived in dangerous places before, but I don’t know that you ever get over the shock of random strangers knocking on your door with a pint in a brown paper bag in one hand and their other hand reaching out for some money because, “I used to have a friend that lived here and she used to give me money”. Now, of course, I’m not throwing stones at the people around here. Most of them, turns out, are like me. Life dealt them a hard curve ball, and they are dealing with it the best they know how. I just wasn’t quite expecting that to happen, or the other dozen or so incidents that I’m now getting accustomed to. Frankly, now these episodes make me laugh a little bit. No. I don’t hand out money at my door, except to a tiny 6-year-old entrepreneurial soul who takes out my trash each day for a dollar. I’m not hardened enough to resist that sweet face! But, let’s face it. I don’t want people showing up all the time at my door. And it would only take one instance of giving a stripper $5 for gas, and I’d be answering that door constantly. Stuff like that travels around, and I don’t make enough money to be handing it out all the time. But, I have been being friendly with people around here, and I hand out my cigarettes pretty regularly. But most importantly, I try really hard not to stand out. I don’t want to be noticed. I work really hard at just blending into the background.
So, back to Chef. Ever since I moved into this home, Chef has not been pleased. Somewhere in that strangled mess of a conscience, I think he became concerned that I was not probably in the safest of places, and he started to check up on me. A text would turn into a phone call, which would turn into breakfast, and on and on, until he actually was coming by the apartment to fix stuff for me. So, even though I knew this probably wasn’t good for me, I still craved seeing him. I liked that he was showing signs of caring about what happened to me. I, in other words, am a great big sucker.
We got away from talking about what has transpired this last year, with the occasional skirmish if we spent more than an hour or so together, and then he began to talk about when we got back together. Not “if”, mind you. “When”. But all the while, he still has the new girlfriend living with him at our old home, working, paying his bills..etc. So, I started feeling creepy about that. I know I’m his wife, but if felt sneaky…So, I told him. I don’t like this sneaky, other-woman feeling. He would promise me that T knew that he was still wanting his marriage to work..blah, blah, blah. No way he tells her the stuff he tells me he says and she be okay with it. And because I know he’s full of crap when he is talking to me, I can just imagine what crap spills out of his mouth to make her feel better, too.
So, I had to make him go away again, and the only way I know how to do that is to make him furious at me. That usually buys me about two weeks, and then he comes around again, always thinking that I’m sitting around waiting for him. Pathetically, he’s kind of right. I’ve been on a few dates, and they were horrible. I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t think I even want a husband. I think I’m going through the motions like learned reactions, but I have to say, I really like coming home, locking my door, playing on my computer, and ignoring his phone calls if I don’t feel like hearing what he has to say. Today, he was particularly angry because he can’t get his electricity turned on at his house under his girlfriend’s name. So, in true Chef fashion, he called me at work to take it out on. Because I have so much pull with the stupid electric company! I didn’t know what to say, but I do feel sorry for him. I’m having to pinch every penny too to pay down some old bills, so I know how this feels. But, the difference to me is, I don’t call him and yell at him about it. He then informed me that I needed to get both dogs and both cats and move them into my apartment with me because he never wanted pets in the first place…I was the one who had problems when the kids left home…not him. It was all designed to pick a fight with me. I realized a few weeks ago, he must not fight with T because when he wants to blow off steam, he always calls me. I even asked him once if they ever even disagree with each other, and he said no. She is too meek to put up any kind of argument with him, which in turn makes him feel bad if he yells at her. Nice. So, he saves it for me? I don’t think so.
One of the commentors on my last post wrote a long, rather beautiful piece to me about knowing who I am. He was right. I don’t know who I really am. I’ve always been someone to someone else. A wife, a mother, a daughter, an employee…I don’t really know who I am when I’m just me. I see that I lost sight of what I was supposed to be learning from all of this because I fell so comfortably back into the strange relationship I have with my husband now. Even though it was different, it was also the same, and it pains me to admit, I let myself be fooled on purpose. I liked being around him..(sometimes)..but most of the time, it is rather disconcerting just how different he is now. It is a strange sensation to see a person you’ve known your whole life, yet find them oddly unfamiliar. I am back on the path I shouldn’t have wandered from, but I can’t make a lot of promises about not blowing it with Chef again. I’d pay good money if he’d just move out of Oklahoma. :-)
So, instead of answering all of your concerned comments, I thought I’d tell ya’ll what’s up, and thank you all for sticking around, even when I went into hiding. Love you all!!