Wednesday, January 17, 2007

After Rage Comes Forgiveness

Rage surges through me like a river of mud crashing down houses and laying destruction in its wake. My heart feels like those houses in that horrible river's wake. Giant and painful as it engulfs everything in its path…my rage engulfs all of me. It courses through every fiber of my being and nothing can stopper it. Nothing save these little pills. Right now I’m hoping they affect me quickly enough to stop me from doing or saying anything idiotic. I already ripped a piece of paper in half in front of someone. It was an accident. That momentary loss of control was not to be observed by anyone. No one here knows my shame. You’re the only one.

Rigid and I go through ups and downs much like a wave. Moments where I’m completely in love and instances where I hate him so totally that I don’t know what to do with myself. I hate him for putting us in this situation. I hate him because he lied to me. Not just about quitting his job but everything. How many times did he not swear to me that by now everything would be fantastic? I didn’t expect that, but I didn’t expect this either. I expected hardship because I saw from the start that he was an optimistic dreamer, a damned determined optimistic dreamer which is completely the opposite of me. That was the difference and that was why I chose to fight for him. He was determined, willing and impulsive enough and so was I. We wanted the world and we wanted it together.

Maybe it’s true, maybe I still haven’t gotten over the miscarriage and maybe I really do blame him for it because he makes me feel so full of rage, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters at the moment is that I started feeling better. I began to feel like I was going to be able to get over this disorder, that the feelings of hatred that I would periodically feel for him were a thing of the past and that soon I’d be able to move on from that and fully experience our love together more fully. He shattered that for me again and what kills me is that I fell for it. Like some inexperienced little girl salivating over her lollipop, I fell for it again and that pisses me the fuck off.

He quit his job on the 5th of January. The compromise that we had made was broken and he didn’t care about the tremendous amount of pressure that would place on me. We now do not have enough money to finish paying the bills this month. I have to squeeze money from my mother, money that I’m owed certainly, but squeeze it nonetheless. I have to make sure this fucking fat pudding of a woman that I work with pays me my bonus or else I’m going to have to go into her office and choke the living shit out of her. After that I have to deposit that and whatever money rigid has into the bank so we can finish paying this months bills. Oh, and we’re quickly running out of food and I don’t care. In fact, I don’t think I’ll be buying much in the way of groceries. I have $10 in my pocket for gas and Rigid put $30 in his car. That left us with $50 for groceries. Oh wait, I’ve just checked my bank account. We have nothing; just enough to pay his car note and nothing else but the $10 in my pocket. Nice.

Now why the rage even still after two weeks? Why do I periodically go through these horrible bouts of anger? Why do I find myself taking my little ee-Mergency (Klonopin) pill more often than before? I can’t answer that. If I could answer that I’d win some sort of noble prize for understanding the inner workings of the human brain and it’s emotional range including the affects it has on your body. No, that’s beyond me and so is my condition. I ask myself many times though if it really is a “condition” at all or is it simply that I’m a woman and he’s a man. My desires are put into very simple terms for him. Give me what I want when I want it and we’ll be happy. Never has that sentence had the kind of meaning it has today. Today that means I’m a spoiled shit. Today it means I’m nothing but a brat that wants to get her way about everything. Today it means I’m a bitch.

I get the sinking suspicion that my little sentence isn’t quite understood. What do I want? As a woman, what do I want? I want RESPECT. Respect my thoughts, my feelings, my intelligence, my honor and my trust. I want SECURITY. Secure my life, my home and my freedom to be myself. I want CONSIDERATION. Consideration for all the things that occur in our lives together so that when we make decisions my input is taken seriously. I want Understanding. Understand that I am emotional, understand that I am a girl, understand that I’m not an idiot and am not to be taken lightly, understand that I can chop your penis off in the middle of the night and be sent to a hospital instead of JAIL because you make me crazy and I’m on medication! Okay, so that last sentence was a little wrong, but you get my meaning.

Respect, security, consideration and understanding…Give me what I want, when I want it and I’ll be okay doesn’t mean “I want a $100.00 purse and you better buy it for me or else!” It means, I want to watch a sappy movie…give me comfort and watch it with me. Don’t tell me how gay the movie is! Just fucking do it and hold my hand! It means I want equal say in anything that affects us financially. It doesn’t mean I want to control your life and tell you what to do and how to do it. I’m not your fucking mother, I suck your fucking cock you son of a bitch! If I say “look, here’s the compromise…” and you agree to it then break the compromise and do it your way then mother fucker you deserve to be alone because this wasn’t the first time was it… and when did this turn into a letter to my husband?

You know what’s funny is that this doesn’t happen to me until I get to work. Yesterday I sat here and I began writing this latest entry. The amount of rage that coursed through me shown so brightly that everyone stayed the hell away from my desk it was humiliating. I took my pills and hoped that it would kick in and it did eventually, but the anger still lingered and lingers still. I went home and ignored him when I got there. I ate something my mom left for dinner, he tried to talk to me…I think I talked back and I think I listened I also think I told him I nearly printed out divorce paperwork yesterday.

Here’s the reason why. He’s sick of me “throwing it in his face” that he quit his job. He’s sick of it and he’s not going to let it affect him anymore. This is how the phone conversation went:

Maha: I hate you.
Rigid: Why do you hate me Popette, I ov oo.
Maha: I don’t love you.
Rigid: Why not???
Maha: Because you quit your fucking job! I don’t have money to pay our bills! Because I’m still angry at you and I can’t get over it and because It makes me not want to be with you anymore.
Rigid: Well I’m doing everything I can. I already apologized for quitting and I told you I would never do something like that again. I don’t know what else to do.
Maha: There’s nothing you can do. You lied to me. You broke your promise. You may as well have cheated on me because that would have been easier for me to understand. (As if it’s expected of a man. I am rolling my eyes at myself now. Sometimes I really do make myself sick.)

(Now he’s angry which is just the reaction I wanted)

Rigid: I don’t know what else to tell you. I told you I would never quit my job without discussing it with you first. I fucked up.
Maha: You did more than fuck up. And it’s not just about quitting your job and you know that.
Rigid: I know it’s the worst fuck up, but I’m trying to move on. I’m trying my best to get work. I know I shouldn’t have quit without having another job to go to, but I thought I’d be able to make it and I was wrong. I already told you that I was wrong and that I wouldn’t do it again, but you don’t care. All you want to do is keep on throwing it in my face and I’m not going to let that get me down anymore.
Maha: Throwing it in your face? (I’m seething with rage now and starting to shake) Throwing it in your face? You fucking lied to me! You lied and you’re telling me I’m throwing it in your face? You’re out of your fucking mind! (Even though I’m throwing it in his face and he’s not out of his fucking mind…well, maybe a little.)
Rigid: No, this is bullshit, I’ve apologized, I know I fucked up, but I’ve said I’m sorry a million times. You keep throwing it in my face and rather than let it depress me I get up every day and try to find work. If I did let it get to me I wouldn’t get up so yeah, I’m not going to let it get to me anymore. Say what you want and keep on throwing it in my face if you want because I don’t care anymore.
Maha: Oh…you don’t care anymore? Ok (Click)

Now I wait for him to call me back while I look to download divorce paperwork. (buzz buzz) My phone is on vibrate and bounces around on my desk. I took my earpiece off and I ignore my phone. I sent the call to voicemail just as Dana, a broker I work with, brings me a piece of paper with instructions to email wiring instructions to someone. She quickly lets me know that it’s a wiring instruction request but didn’t finish her sentence when she saw the look on my face. She was about to tell me something about the note, but I didn’t care and you could tell. I was fucking seething!! I quickly read the note and in my mind prepared the order in which I would do things to complete this task, but at the bottom of the note was something telling me that I should say something nice at the end of my email. “Make a nice note to her ie if she needs more info etc.”…I wish you could see the blank expression on my face right now.

….. I fucking RIPPED the note in half as Dana walked away. Unfortunately she turned around at just that same moment, but I was already in motion and I tossed the other half of the paper aside. Whatever she turned around to tell me she will take to her grave because she just turned back around and into her office.

This is the letter I prepared:


Hi Ellice,
Here are the wiring instructions you requested.
Money Wire Instructions:
JP Morgan Chase Bank
1 Chase Manhattan Plaza
New York,
NY 10081
ABA # 021-000-021
Somereallycool Co & Co Inc.
123 Youdontthinki'mstupiddoyou, 24th Floor
Los Angeles, CA 90024
A/C#
#####
FFC: Client name
Account #
Should you have any questions please feel free to give me a call at 310 446 7449.
Thank you,



Was it not direct and to the point? How much honey would you like in your email? Do I fucking look like I care? Just send me your fucking money and fuck off.

Still I felt horrible and ashamed of my actions. I was mortified that someone saw that part of me at my office. So I turned around and took my Depakote and Klonopin at the same time and started to write this post. He kept calling me and I would answer sometimes. Each time he would apologize and I would say it doesn’t matter anymore. I was oozing melodrama, but my heart was hurting so bad. My chest ached for him so much. It ached for him and aches for him still. I wanted to decide once and for all whether I would stick it through with him no matter what, but I couldn’t and so I went home and on the way home I didn’t cry. I sang. When I got home I didn’t scream, I picked up my kitten and watched him as he put away the laundry. I watched him in secret…he seemed genuinely shocked to find me home so early. When he came to me to welcome me home, I didn’t push him away. I don’t think I said anything to him, but I didn’t push him away. He kissed my kitten, my forehead, my nose and my lips and I didn’t push him away.

He asked if I was hungry and I helped myself to some of my mothers cooking. A dangerous thing indeed. You take the health of your anus into your own hands when you eat my mothers food. It’s fucking worth it though. It’s good shit! I can’t remember if we talked while I ate. I know he talked, but I was very medicated and since I’d eaten my eyes would close. He kept trying to get me to look at him while he talked, but there was no point. When I don’t want to look at you it’s for a good reason. Usually it’s because you disgust me. This drives him insane but he eventually gave up and turned on the television. Didn’t finish the laundry. Aha, I knew it. He must have heard my car coming, turned the TV off and threw himself into the bedroom to “pretend” to do laundry. I know his type you see. I went around the living room and into the kitchenette and draped myself in a chair sulking over this. When he saw me he came to me and tried to beseech me to come to the living room to sit with him. Tried to apologize again for the way he behaved. But I would have none of it. In fact, I think I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore and that it was just a matter of time. He mentioned the fact that his mother would be here soon with the money from the sale of the home.

“That’s good,” I said. “now you’ll have the money to go home.”

“What do you mean? I am home Hooha. You’re my home. I love you so much.” He moved the hair away from my forhead so he could see both my eyeballs and when he saw no response lay his head across my lap and let out a big sigh. He didn’t cry this time. He didn’t even curse. He just walked away and I drifted off to sleep. About 45 minutes later I got up stumbling, unable to feel my foot and part of my neck. I felt like the Hunchback of Notre dame trying to make it to my bedroom. He saw that I was stumbling and helped me to the room. I didn’t want his help. I wanted to hate him some more. I plopped myself into bed and he coverd me, tucked me in, gave me my kiss and told me he loved me. I pretended that I didn’t hear him and rolled away. I secretly yearned for him to lay in bed with me and watch me fall asleep, but that didn’t happen. It didn’t matter either because by the time he closed the door I was fast asleep. I didn’t wake up until 11:30 pm. That means I slept well over 7 hrs in the middle of the day. I don’t do that unless I’m sick and even then I don’t do that. Ya’ think I’m depressed?

I thought that maybe I would get up and study a little, but I didn’t. I can’t remember what Rigid and I talked about. And eventually my mom came home. I proceeded to tell her how angry I still was at him (still because I’d already told her how pissed off I was several times)…he sat between us while he played Oblivion. Of course he couldn’t understand half of what was said because we were talking in Spanish mostly. I’d say things in English though so he knew we were talking about him and what we were talking about. I know he already knew, but I didn’t want to seem rude after all.

Rigid went to bed before I did and I sat and talked to my mom about nothing in particular. After he left it wasn’t fun to talk about him anymore. When I went to bed I wanted to hold him but instead I poked my finger in his butt. He flinched because my finger was cold. He mumbled something unintelligible then fell back to sleep. I wanted to fall out of the bed giggling, instead I lay there trying to fall asleep. I did this all night, falling in and out of restless sleep and ending up in the same dream. Something about a giant water slide involving a massive underwater turtle thing. Rigid kept telling me to jump on the turtle as I swung out on a vine off the slide….nope, not me. I won’t go near water if I have anything to do about it in my dreams.

Anyway, here I am in a new day. Feeling those awful feelings all over again. Going back and forth between hatred and love. I have one really nice friend here. I asked her if she thought I was being weird about this. About my feelings. She asked me what I meant and I said, “I think I’m being “BiPolar” you know?”

Everything she said made sense to me. What happened happened. He was wrong and he knows it. The only thing that matters is what happens here on out. He’s out there in the freezing cold trying to get work also said, “…things must have been really bad at his old job for him to prefer freezing his ass off rather than making steady money.” She didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already told myself half a dozen times, but hearing it from someone else did make me feel better.

I’m still angry, but I think I’m starting to understand my disorder more and more. She used the word harping instead of “throwing it in his face”. I’m a fucking harper. (There’s a look of shock on my face I assure you.) I harp! I’m a medicated harping harpie. Harpies can’t let things go. They clutch to things with their claw like hands and pick and peck with their peck like beaks….mouths…whatever and poke your fucking eyes out. That or don’t let you eat, I can’t remember something about the Trojans. The point is that this problem of mine has always been with me. I’ve always had a hard time letting things go, but when I’m acknowledged quickly enough it’s not as difficult. Though sometimes it doesn’t matter at all especially if you’re as wrong as Rigid was. In cases like that it will take me much longer to get over things. Being that I never had these sorts of problems before (other than with my family) I always got over issues rather quickly. Now I’m in a relationship where I feel that I have to fight to defend myself and my beliefs all the time and when I’m slighted it lasts a really really long time so I harp because I have no other outlet especially now that I’m on medication because I tend to hold things in longer.

Sure I wrote about it, but not quite the way I needed to I think. To be honest I don’t think that would have mattered much either. I don’t think it matters at all. I simply haven’t gotten it out. I know what I could have done, but I won’t do it. I wont go there because this is why I’m on medication in the first place. Now what I have to do is sit here, take my medication and hope that I can forgive him for this. I want to forgive him for it. I yearn so much for his arms. I miss him every minute of everyday that were not together and when we fight I feel like were thousands of miles apart. When I feel this kind of anger for him I feel hopeless and as though all is lost. As though all was for not. But I know that’s not true, that can’t be true because we’ve been through so much and we’ve accomplished so much in so little time. So what can I do, but love my little retard with everything I have despite his retard like mistakes? What can I do? I’m still angry, but I think I forgive him…sort of.

5 comments:

Nathan J said...

hey look it's not my fault i've got mongaloidianitaaassssssss.
i do try but i do tend to make gignorm fuck ups when i make themous

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