Megan…
Driving along this morning, I drove past several homes for sale. I had a flashback moment (sorta strange while driving!) that took me back to the first house C and I purchased. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. So unloved, uncared for and miserable. It sorta matched where I was in my life, where WE were in our marriage. He had grand plans for the house. I didn’t want it. I never wanted it. I felt like white trash when I would pull into the driveway and look at the unkempt yard and the weeds everywhere that were beyond my ability to control. Every living thing I planted in the area I had cleared for flowers was choked out. I was so, so sad there. I hated it. I hated my life.
As I thought about this house, I thought about how ugly it was. I thought about the violence that occured there and all the dreams that never materialized. I remembered, for some reason, the carpet. It was the most hideous grey textured stuff through the whole house that was stained and disgusting. No amount of my continual vaccuuming resolved the issues. Eventually, I gave up even trying. He and I had picked out a beautiful, yet inexpensive, navy blue plush carpet that was going to replace the nightmare that adorned the floors there. That never happened. The fixed dishwasher never happened. The replaced tile never happened. The fixed bathroom never happened. Nothing ever happened there except for, one night, by some miracle, Kait was conceived.
I felt sad as I thought about this house and, especially that carpet. I heard his father saying to him while I was in another room, “Your wife has champagne taste on a beer budget.” I wondered about that then. I still do. I never wanted the horrible house and it looked far from “champagne taste” but his father seemed to see that in the house, in me.
As I remembered that, with tears in my eyes this morning, it dawned on me. I have a belief running that “he” will provide for me – my dad, my boyfriends, my husbands. Somehow, I never equated the “he” to God, but I think that’s what they kept trying to teach me in church. At any rate, “he” is supposed to keep me safe. “He’s” supposed to house me, clothe me and feed me. “He’s” supposed to provide for me.
However, what has happened in my life is that “he” has left me. Every one of them have left me. Left me to figure it out on my own and I just don’t know how. I’m sitting here at my desk in the office of my ex-husband wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do! I don’t understand and I don’t know how. I’m inadequate and uneducated in the realms of providing for myself and MAKING THIS FUCKING LIFE WORK. I don’t know how to do it and what has evolved is that I have landed myself back at my dad’s house and in employment for C and… neither of them are really “providing for me”. I appreciate that I have a safe place to sleep. I appreciate that I, somewhat, have a job. Everything though feels strangely empty.
Megan, I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know how to provide for me and I’m tired of waiting for someone to do it for me. Cuz, I get the point… NO ONE can provide for me. I must do that myself, for myself.
Help.
-Angie
