Here’s a little heart to heart, I am not sure where this post is going, but this is the gist of it so far;
Dreams die when you are told no all of the time, or you have to wait or this can’t happen or that can’t happen, because, because, because.
It’s not always money that gets in peoples way, sometimes it is other people, sometimes it is health, and sometimes it is the environment, sometimes it’s the fact that with so many obstacles you lose the will to try anymore, lose the will to fight.
My dreams got smaller and smaller over the years, especially since living with Paul. My dreams have got so small these days that I am even frightened to dream about what to plan for dinner during the week, even the smallest things – because, ultimately, I will hear a no or a broken promise again.
Or I may get half of it, because the rest was forgotten.
A simple thing like, I think I will have a side salad with the Bolognese tonight, the salad will be forgotten; so I go and make it myself without making a fuss about the fact it is forgotten again – then I am asked, what you doing? When I explain I am told to sit down whilst Paul begrudgingly leaves his dinner to do it for me, because for some reason he doesn’t want me to do it for myself – then he snaps at Henry because Henry too, would like some salad as well or a fizzy orange drink.
I am made to feel guilty when I get upset that he takes over everything all the time, I am made to feel really bad because he is rushed off his feet and made to feel bad for complaining that I could have helped… it’s a bizarre situation to be in.
The fact that I don’t want him to do everything for me – but he won’t have it – but at the same time he constantly gripes about how tired he is, how busy he is, how inconvenient everything is… yet I have said I will help. It is like he enjoys being a moany martyr. Henry tries to help but he gets the exact same reaction from Paul.
So Henry and I sit back and let Paul do everything for us, whilst he moans to the whole world about how much he does for this family who does nothing, because we can’t and I have to sit there and stomach it time and time again, knowing the truth!
I mentioned before, I feel I have no purpose here, because my purpose in every way shape and form has been stripped from me.
For years Paul and I have both denied we were over around 2013, it is only recently when he thought he had found another woman, which we both agreed yes it’s over between us.
My battle for eight years was my health, but my new battle since getting energy and health stabilised is now fighting Paul for my right to do things for myself!
He won’t let go and what is more, he won’t help where it really matters – the things I genuinely cannot do at present without his help.
Mostly buy the cleaning materials I need to whip this house into shape.
Both Henry and I are very concerned about some neglect of the house, the leaking roof in the utility room and the leaking chimney brest in the living room are not priorities and recently, as Paul is getting more tired and since he is struggling with our budget, my rabbit is not getting what he needs and I have offered to use my own treat money to compensate for him, but Paul won’t hear of it – but he won’t do anything about it either.
I have heart wrenchingly told Paul, then we have to give the rabbit up then because he needs to have more than we can offer him, but he won’t have that either.
Paul’s budget for the rabbit tightened when Paul realised I was healthy enough to start cleaning him out myself, every two days, but that’s too expensive and too often according to Paul.
Henry heard this conversation unfortunately; he came down the stairs when he heard us. Henry got involved too and Henry is more assertive and aggressive than I am and when he felt the same as I did, Henry’s response was his usual fiery temper. Which meant both Paul and Henry went at each other’s throats again.
Both the rabbit and I recoiled, I went dead quiet like I always do when things explode like that, because I hate conflict and I know if I was to so much as whimper whilst they are at each other like that, I would make them both explode more to the extent Paul will either leave the house for an hour or Henry will try to self-harm to get his point across.
This is one of the reasons why I find it hard to do anything, because even a small suggestion could be blown out of proportion and I am made to feel guilty for wanting more for the family, even if it is a bit of bleach and a clean rag.
I have said before, it is fine for Paul to live like this but I am not used to it. I was raised under OCD conditions, my mother’s house was like a show room at all times, never a crumb to land on the floor without a vacuum on it no sooner had it landed.
I practically live in the bedroom now, not because I am bedbound now, but out of choice; I can’t stand leaving this room anymore, because to be honest with you, my stomach churns at the mess of the whole house.
I suggested to Paul, OK, you are struggling for space I will get rid of a lot of my stuff, my books around the house, the unused art supplies and the leather futon nobody uses and that will make room but then he asks me – how do you suppose we get rid of it all? I said charity, but who is going to take all this to the charity shop? I don’t have time, I can’t afford several buses to get there – we can’t afford the alternative skip.
I give up once again.
Every little bit of fighting spirit and will power is just being sucked out of me with every month I live in this place!
It was ok when I knew I was wanted, but Paul has made it abundantly clear to me that yes, he’ll tolerate me here as he feels he has a duty of care for me, but who wants to hear that? Who wants to know they are tolerated by a duty bound martyr?
Am I the one being unfair?
He took away my role as mother years ago.
I can make no decision about the boy at all, I can’t play with him how I used to because apparently it is my fault when he gets hyperactive, I can’t talk about our mutual hobbies together, because some are things Paul disagrees with and he will lose his nut when Henry obsesses over them again. I can’t cook or bake alone in the kitchen anymore with Henry to teach him (Henry wanted to be a cook), because it is a dangerous mess out there and Paul generally takes over because he is scared with my disabled left hand that I may have an accident! I can do nothing.
I can have my opinion about Henry anytime I like but I am always over ridden, Paul rarely tells me in advance if there are any appointments for Henry because he presumes the role of parent and completely forgets I am also the parent!
So what am I here for?
I have no value here and every time I open my mouth it starts a war or a pity me cycle!
What hurts is, when I find something I can do behind Paul’s back, he undoes it just as quickly – like he didn’t even see what I had done, so it makes me feel as though any energy expenditure is constantly unrewarded and for nothing.
When I started to use my exercise bike again regularly, Paul got into the habit of using it as a coat, umbrella and shoe stand, so I have a lot to clear around it before I get to use it again.
The house stinks, I am the only one who opens any windows here and Paul has put obstacles in certain windows so I can’t reach them, he thinks I haven’t noticed his trick, but he has.
He tells me the windows shouldn’t be opened now until spring because of the heat or eat crisis, it will be too cold in the house if I opened it for just one hour a day!
Paul and Henry are both nose blind because they live downstairs a lot – I live upstairs, my window is opened a couple of hours a day and when I leave the room I have to say… it’s not pleasant and is there any wonder I lose my appetite a lot these days?
Three days ago I decided to shut myself in my bedroom all the time, only go downstairs to eat dinner and pet the rabbit a few times a day, that’s all.
I can’t bear being down there anymore, especially with the vitriol between the two of them that seems almost constant these days.
They are bitter because I put my Amazon music on up here to drown them out and when I use it, nobody can use Alexa downstairs that music subscription comes out my treat money.
To think when I first moved in I thought the world was literally my oyster, I dreamt big, I had endless energy and ambition and I was ecstatic to get away from my mum!
I don’t know where all that enthusiasm has gone, but I worry about dreaming about a piece of candy at the weekends nowadays, because that is too big a dream at times.
I had massive dreams in comparison.
Maybe I can dream big again someday, eh? Maybe…
I’ve never reached for just comfort in the past, I’ve always wanted the best that I can be, the best that I can have.
But now, comfort is the dream as I am definitely not comfortable here.
Paul is fine with making do and coping and adapting to less and less – I am not like that. I always have this spark of… we can always find a way to get more? Sell this, do this and do that… but it’s shot down by him hard, because ah, it’s too much effort or whatever.
You get yourself into a rut when you live with people like that; people without ambition are dangerous energy vampires to the more ambitious folk.
I’ve learned the hard way – you can’t teach someone like him – he likes things handed to him on a plate without any effort.
I am not like that. Well at least I wasn’t once, these days I think I am too apathetic to try, I am too tired and it is making me feel old and bitter!
I am scared I am going to become like him soon, because… why bother?
Why bother if I am going to get shot down and stopped again?
My son Henry is only 12yrs old; he is getting the mind-set of why bother… that’s too young! Too young!
I want to bother, I keep tying to pull myself out of the dirt – but I can’t help but feel that Paul is there with a big stick poking me back down into it if you get my drift?
Thanks for reading!