What's currently happening in my life and what I think about all this now.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on April 12, 2022 at 6:10 AM|
My new ebook is live on Amazon!
For the next five days, you can read it FREE.
Some of the content is already available free here ... but a lot of it isn't. All my Medium essays are here, comprising everything I've learned about third-party relationships over the past seven years.
I've gleaned all this, not only from wolfing down every affair recovery book and video I could find from the most respected experts, but from those many people I heard from going through the experience themselves as I posted these essays over a period of two years.
Thanks to the magic of the internet, I've been able to include links to the very stories I learned so much from, so that other wise voices who've been through the same thing as you can tell you their stories as I put together a comprehensive overview of the extramarital affair. I've also included every resource I used in a handy reference section at the back.
It's on KDP Select for $3.99.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on April 12, 2022 at 5:20 AM|
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on April 11, 2022 at 12:20 AM|
It Really, Really Does.
Recently I've finally done well enough to get a lot of old junk out of here that didn't work anymore, including an old secondhand entertainment center whose top sagged in the middle and an ancient, heavy old tube TV. Now there's a pretty, new, modern table in here, and, at last, I've joined the twenty-first century and gotten a flat screen TV that actually goes on the internet.
When you haven't been someplace in a long, long time, or seen a movie in a long, long time, and then you go there again or you see it again, your mind goes back to the last time you saw the movie or the place, and it's as if the intervening years sort of get compressed into nothing.
Which, if you've changed a lot in the intervening years, can be strange and sad. I used to go home to the beach and remember so well the little girl who had such a hard time in that first house we lived in. It was like being me and her at the same time.
When I first moved to the city where I live, I had such hope that things would turn around. I was just getting the hang of driving in the largest metropolitan area I had ever lived in, and since I didn't have anyone else to go with, I took myself out to movies and the mall and bookstores by myself. I'd sit in the Barnes and Noble cafe by myself, learning to love cafe mochas and scribbling stories in a notebook and dreaming of making it as a writer. The two Julias, Roberts and Ormond, were my favorite actresses. I saw First Knight and Sabrina literally dozens of times each. I was twenty-seven. I so resonated with the themes in Sabrina, about taking long walks in beautiful places and scribbling nonsense in a journal and finding yourself and becoming who you really are.
I expected so much from life. Now I'm so old I take walks and it hurts. I don't know if I'll ever walk more than two miles at a stretch again, much less jog anymore.
Now I sit here and shake my head over how silly and naive I was, and how crappy everything turned out.
Well, it could have been worse. I had hopes but I also had fears. With how many times I got fired in those days, I really was terrified of burning through every place around here, being unhirable, and ending up homeless because I was still stuck with thousands and thousands of dollars of student loans and there was No. Way. I was EVER going home again. Not even if I ended up under a bridge.
Well, I didn't end up under a bridge. I have my own place, which I could pay off in a year if I can just pay off the new furniture and the last round of the-car-broke-down-and-the-toilet-was-leaking. But, I finally have light fixtures in here working that haven't worked literally in YEARS, because I was afraid of what it would cost to have an electrician in. And it turns out I could have afforded to have them fixed years ago. I can actually SEE in the kitchen again, when I've been fumbling in the dark for so many years I can't even remember.
I may end up homeless in old age and I'll never be able to afford to remodel, but I'm okay for now. On the other hand, this is pretty much it. My life is pretty much over. This is all. Nothing from here on out but working, trying to retire debt, older age, decline, health problems, and death.
When I was in love with almost-thirty Julia Ormond in Sabrina, I really believed life turned out like that. Too bad.
The thing is, sometimes those things really are within reach. You just have to fight for them.
Only, in this case, the fight was someone else's. And he wouldn't.
So, what's next? Well, there's work tomorrow. I'm about done with the book I'm writing that's come out of this website. All I need to do is finish proofreading and struggle with a cover. I've learned not to expect much. Some nine million books get published and self-published every year and all but one or two die a quick death. So, I'll finish the job and then it's just, work.
I'll post here when the thing is up on Amazon. And that will be that.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on April 9, 2022 at 10:05 PM|
In about seven weeks, it will be seven years since I was dumped from this affair, and four years and seven months since I last spoke to the guy.
I have accepted that this person will never speak to me again. That I will never hear from, never see, this person, ever, ever again. Ever, ever, never.
There is no "someday" with a person who will never come back. There's tons of transits for that coming up soon, and we will never pick those. He will never pick those. I would have treated him so much better. But, it doesn't matter.
So, okay. I've stopped arguing.
Time to just pack it in and forget this ever happened.
Only, once you've done something like this, you don't ever really forget, because you are changed forever by what you've learned.
I learned that just because a person is successful in the world in all the ways I wasn't, doesn't mean they don't have some fatal flaw that will ruin every relationship they're in. I learned that relationships are not transactional--I can't do this to make you feel better so you will do that to make me feel better.
I learned that all we're really born here to do is get wounded emotionally in our families of origin and then do the hard work of growing ourselves up ... all by ourselves. No one else can do that for us.
I have learned that, when a person expresses NO interest in so doing ("I had to put that book down. It was too depressing.") don't count on ever seeing them again, especially when they would have had to do some healing of childhood emotional wounding in order to become capable of that. AND a person who expresses NO interest in so doing ... would have, sorry, presented significant problems as a partner.
I have learned that this world is a world of pain and tears, where happy endings elude most. And I am part of the "most." I am NOT part of the "fortunate few."
I have learned that the flush of romantic love you feel in the beginning is mostly about how you expect that another person will become your parent, and raise you in the ways you didn't get raised in childhood, and that real love is most emphatically NOT that.
I have learned that, even when you figure out what real love is, it doesn't matter whether you've become capable of it or not, if the person's not there.
And this person's checked out. Permanently.
Good thing, because now he can hide in the distance of a marriage that will remain forever distant, because he's too scared to actually ever live the closeness with other people he always said he wanted. When you tell other people who you really are, and stand by it, that too is a way of being close, because then others know who you really are.
Okay, that's a little snarky. I HOPE the reason I'm never going to see him again is that they went back to marriage counseling, found better therapists, delved into old childhood wounding, found each other again, fell back in love, and will end their lives enjoying their children, grandchildren, friends, and family, and be proud of what they've made and the bonds they've had with all these people for four decades and counting.
So, so many people can't say anything like this about their lives. So, so many people aren't able to create this long-term bonding among so many great and wonderful people. I hope it works out for them. I really do. The best thing that can ever happen to a forty-year marriage is for the wounds to be healed and the marriage to become real.
They've still got a few transits for it coming up. It can happen.
I mean, lookit. At going-on 64 and 67, these folks are running out of time. You ain't going to achieve this when you're half-witted and peeing in your Depends in your wheelchair in the nursing home. Looking at the available evidence (which I admit is sketchy at best), I tend to doubt it, but, who knows?
One day I will realize the person's made his last visit here. That will be the end, the very, very last of the very, very last, and I'll just imagine this breakthrough happened and just tell myself this good story about it. It's a happy thing, to imagine them happy in their wonderful family to the very end of their days.
Either way, one wonders:
Why does this guy keep visiting here?
What's the point? He's never, ever, ever going to speak. Never, ever, ever coming back. Never, ever, never. For forty years, no matter how unhappy he is, he keeps choosing that person ... and choosing that person ... and choosing that person ... and choosing that person.
Why come back here when you keep on choosing that person? Isn't it time to just take Ram Dass's advice and "Be Here Now?" (Or, in his case, Be There Now?)
Jesus, dude. You made your choice seven years ago, and you will never choose differently. So choose it. Be there. You're never going to be anywhere else, ever. Why show up here?
What does he get out of peeking in here and reading what I'm writing? I will wonder to the end of my days ... but I Will Never Find Out.
The last time I ever saw him, we were sitting in a meeting. He had ended it with me four months before, and the entire time we considered ourselves together, I never ever caught him looking at me or watching me at all. (I thought he was the most handsome, sexiest thing I had ever seen; I couldn't stop sneaking looks at him.) But this night, he was watching me and letting me see that.
The next week, he wasn't there, and I never saw him again. I knew what that meant. He'd moved home, and I was not his choice.
Two-and-a-half years later, when I spoke to him one more time, I asked him about that night. Why was he watching me closely enough that I could see him?
He said he was worried whether I was going to be okay or not.
If you've been here all this time because you're worried whether I'm going to be okay or not, you can stop now. I'm going to be fine.
I'm sad, because every child is sad to discover that there is no Santa Claus and that this world we live in is not Disneyland. That love is not the place where someone becomes your parent and shores up all your weaknesses and makes your life a fairytale. That, no, you cannot just make anything you want materialize through the "law of attraction" by simply thinking and feeling the right way. That the planet's going to die either through global warming or endless war and income inequality, and I am going to die in it alone. That all the best times of my life are gone, and most of them left a lot to be desired even while they were happening.
There's nothing much left to do now but work and pay bills til I'm too old and sick to work anymore, and then die of whatever I'm going to die from. Indoors, with enough food and water, I hope.
In this country, fuck knows.
I am better off not to be that silly girl anymore, the one who expected that something wonderful would happen in life to make up for the bad childhood. I am not happier, but I am better off. All we're supposed to do here is handle, and adapt to, unhappy reality. We are not capable of forcing reality to fit childish daydreams.
It sure is a comedown for a girl who took fifty-three years to finally grow up, who always believed she was going to be a bestselling author and rescue someone who looked perfect into a fairy-tale marriage.
Life is still sad, and it was always sad. The two sickest families in our city in the mid-sixties had their eldest son and daughter meet in high school and get married way too young, and I was their oldest kid. How could it turn out anything but sad?
The difference is, I can handle it now, because I don't expect anything much from life. I grew into my career, finances are fine (for now, at least) and I am okay. I am single and intend to remain single. I can't even imagine who would fit me as a partner now, nor can I imagine how I would even meet such a person. That time in my life is over, anyway. I'm just a tired, creaky, fat old lady. I really don't have the energy anymore. I don't desire or need other people in my life anymore. I'm not interested in fiction writing anymore and I'm scared of covid 19, so I don't go out much.
I've graduated to hermitude.
You don't need to worry about how I'm doing. I really can handle anything. I'm just going to finish my book of essays--I know not to expect anything now!--and just keep on going to work. Work is okay. I have a nice little nest I've feathered to the best of my ability. I'm going to be okay. And that is all that I can realistically expect ... to be "okay." Other people on other paths can expect more, but that just wasn't my path. Hard to discover that, but I accept it now. It's made my life so much easier and less disappointing.
The person you need to worry about is you. Are YOU going to be okay? I've accepted that we'll never see each other again and this is goodbye. Happy fortieth in a few months. Sweetie, you deserve the best and I will always wish you well. You really are a good, good person. There is nothing wrong with you. There never was.
This ends our association in this lifetime. I wish it weren't this way, but clearly, it is. Take care. And, stop coming around here! You've made your choice, so just be where you are, with the people you chose. Begone! "Be Here Now."
Hugs! Bye. I love you.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on April 9, 2022 at 9:15 PM|
Boy, that last one. That last one. Very, very relevant.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 31, 2022 at 10:35 AM|
Groups 2 and 3.
I just have to say here: I HAVE DONE ALL I CAN HUMANLY DO. The last instructions I have from this person are: "I want to stay married." So, I've done all I can. I CANNOT DO MORE. I am not going to come into the space of a person who's told me, "I want to stay married" and demand their attention in any way. I CANNOT.
So the ball is in his court. If he does nothing ... he gets nothing.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 27, 2022 at 5:20 AM|
I once read a series of books by a homeless guy, who one night, in a fit of rage, started an angry letter to God, then reported that he heard God's voice, which gave him an answer. His writings became the Conversations With God series. While I eventually tossed those books, because there was too much "law of attraction" in them (THAT stupid concept doesn't deserve caps), one concept in them does still stand out years later as real truth.
For most people, wrote Neale Donald Walsch (and "Coauthor"), love is a response to need fulfillment.
I have found that to be true in some approximation. There's that bedazzled, He/she walks on water kind of thing, that makes you envision that With this person, all my needs will be met.
Therefore, you envision the relationship (in our case, the relationship we didn't get to have) as Paradise on Earth, and the loss of any possibility of that brings on a depression that lasts some six years and then some. (Because what you were really looking for was the ecstatic feeling it is easy to give a child, just by smiling at them and hugging them and listening to them and loving them, which we all needed as children in order for our brains to develop right, and many of us didn't get.)
Man, once you get older and become aware of things like dinners and homes and money and cars and social approval and success, how much more it takes to give us that same feeling. When, if Mom and Dad had just treated us right, we would have carried that in our hearts all along.
I saw this in a card reading once: You are proceeding on the plan that Once *this* happens, then I can be happy. And this is the wrong way to do it.
And, you know? That fucking card reading sure was worth some salt. (This is what I mean when I say, Tarot and astrology can really do a lot to get you on the right path.)
I mean, let's look at this.
I wish I could post pictures on here, but if I did, someone who knows me might ID me, and if they do, they might ID him. No, thanks.
The reason I would like to post pictures is I could put up a Before and After of where I live.
After my husband died, this place Was. A. Wreck. Not only did we have little money, so much of what was in here was hand-me-down, junky, and collected dust, but the layout in here required that we put very heavy equipment, such as an old entertainment center and a very heavy old tube TV, right in front of the intake for the furnace, and then it was too heavy to move it all and clean. For sixteen years. You want to talk about some DUST. (And I am allergic to dust.)
I wanted to make things look so much better in here, but there was no money. I actually did find the last model of a lovely desk and hutch for the office, one it broke my heart we couldn't afford while my husband was alive, and I bought it, but ...
I had to leave it at the warehouse for, like, a WHOLE DAMN YEAR. The reason being, in order to fit the desk in there, I had to have a bunch of old stuff moved out. In order to get the old stuff moved out, I had to sort through the stuff in it ...
and every time I had a day off and was home and could get started ...
the phone would ring. My great aunt needed to be taken to the hair salon to get her hair washed and set. My cousin was out of medication and could I run to the drugstore? Both of them needed dy-dies, and could I please run all the way downtown to Discount Medical (where the prices were best) before they ran out? Their paperwork needed doing, checkbooks and bills. They needed taken shopping. On and on.
And this godawful MESS sat here ... and sat here ... and sat here. I couldn't even get the damn sliding glass door open and go out on the patio because it was broken and too heavy for me to slide, and there was no money to replace it.
This went on for MONTHS. I became resigned to the idea that it would always be this way, junky, dark, dusty, depressing, because there would never be time and there would never be money for me to even do something so basic as make a decent environment in here to live in.
I thought I needed a man to help me do that.
Slowly, slowly, things improved. I made a mistake on my taxes one year and got $4000 back, which was enough to replace not only the door, but the windows, as well. Now ... at LONG last I'm being paid enough money, which last year enabled me to buy things for the patio to spruce it up, colorful pads for the chairs and these decorative flowers which, with effort, I got up on the walls BY MYSELF. Then I hung a spice rack BY MYSELF, which emboldened me to purchase the baker's rack that went with it and put that together BY MYSELF, as well as a cart for the Clover coffee maker (which I have yet to hook up) BY MYSELF.
So, now I have something in the kitchen area that looks nice, which I've adorned with fake flowers and a little light-up tree, that's supposed to hold things like the microwave and toaster oven and packages of coffee and nuts and seeds, instead of my mother's age old bedside table, which clearly belonged in the bedroom and collected dust and just LOOKED JUNKY.
This year I've splurged on a small cabinet for the hallway, which came from Sundance and really cost too much but looks divine, and some wall decor from Sundance, which also cost too much but also looks divine, plus some artwork from this funky little store in ... oops, the Center of the Universe (since there ARE several of those). And then I found a new table thing to put the TV and the DVD player and VCR on ... with DRAWERS to put all the CDs and DVDs in so the whole thing is easier to dust ... and then I had all that old JUNK taken out.
And then I bought a new, modern, flat screen TV, and a few more things for the garden (flower stakes, since the damn garden will never actually grow flowers that bloom, that came from Viva Terra and cost way too much.)
I got it all unboxed and put together and hooked up yesterday BY MYSELF and watched a couple of movies already. And with my garlands and my fairy lights I have up, It. Looks. So. Stinking. CUTE. In. Here. (Although it may be a bit girly for some.)
I thought you needed help from a guy to do this. (And, in the past, that was the truth. My husband and I bought a $600 diswasher, and later, a table made of slate to put in here, and we strained and struggled to do it. So, when you don't make enough money, you DO need a guy to help.)
But I did this all by myself. I have weathered two trips to the emergency room and three trips to the cardiologist by myself. I have found an emergency person all by myself and I know who can serve as an executor and found that by myself.
I understand, sad though it may be to say it, that part of the charm here was the idea that I could not do this by myself. That the female myth was that You Get Married, and then you build all this With Your Husband, was alive and operating in me.
And, to be fair, I had a lot of trouble in my career. A LOT. For years and years and years and years, I could never have done this by myself.
But now, I have.
To be sure, this place desperately needs remodeling. The kitchen and bathroom needs torn out and completely redone. They're from the sixties, run down, and they look it. I will never, ever be able to do THAT on my own.
But, I've done what I can. I have my lights and a leafy garland on my mantel above the gas fireplace. The patio is a lovely place to sit now, and there's a pool here. Now, I have to pay for all of this, including the recent $1300 car repair bill, AND of course now the toilet is leaking. But I know I CAN pay for it.
I understand now that I will be alone here until it's time for the nursing home. So I might as well make this place as lovely and livable as I can for the ten or fifteen or twenty years I will have left before I get too old and feeble to live here alone anymore. So, pay for it all I will.
I gotta vacuum and dust. But I love it here now. I used to dream, when I worked by the sea, of having a beach house or condo. Even if I had the funds, I would sort of miss this place now. It's so small and cozy. (And the POOL.)
I've also changed in that I've sat here writing and napping all day, and I've been completely happy to do that. Eight years ago, Sundays would have been special time for my husband and me. And they were so special that I thought I'd never be able to feel happy alone here again.
But I am. And that's been a BIG change in me.
I think I spent so very long as a child and young adult, struggling furiously for the bonding healthy kids get with parents, with family, and with school friends--and telling myself something must be wrong with me because the great majority of that didn't happen, therefore I was fat, I was ugly, I wasn't "social" enough or in the right ways and nobody would ever want me--that life was too much about finding loved ones and not enough about finding me.
But, in the end, all I am ever going to really have is myself. Even if I married somebody else, I'd just get widowed again ... and there'd I'd be in the nursing home ... all by myself.
Even being a writer was about getting other people to love me. If I were a famous writer, surely then I'd be good enough. Then I'd have friends. Then I'd have close familylike relationships with people who loved me. Well, turns out I am not good enough. And even if you are successful ... that won't make you think you are good enough. All that happens then is you're only as good as your book sales. Which I won't ever get. These essays are just what I've learned and that's it. I don't actually expect people to give a shit.
I used to picture a life with this guy, if he had've left, that we're simply too old for now. We're OLD PEOPLE now. And, I see now that so much of how I imagined life with a husband was about me being younger. The treasured younger person I was not when I was little. So I was bedazzled with the idea of getting childhood needs met that I dreamed a dream, and imagined a feeling, and the loss of any of that possibility of that happening plunged me into dark depression because that was actually supposed to happen when I was born and being raised, as a tiny, tiny child. Not now.
So, I can accept that loss. I don't need that any more.
What is love?
Once upon a time, I would have called it dreaming that dream. But, it wasn't. All that dream was about was yoking someone into doing something for me so I wouldn't have to do the childhood recovery and growing-up work that I've spent the last six years painfully, painfully doing, and that you can see on this website and its predecessor. Talk about some raw pain. UGH.
Does not feeling that way any more mean I don't love the guy?
I think a lot of the feelings we call "love" are unhealthy. Sure, they are bedazzling, and you think the other person is a kind of savior. This is because we don't want to know that all the ways we need saving are the ways we're going to have to save ourselves. Nobody else can fix those things for us ... even though every romantic movie still says they can.
If we got together, what kind of life could we have now? Well, we'd just be two old people. Maybe we could do a few things before we really got too old, but mostly we'd be puttering around the house and shopping and cooking food and doing housework. I'd be going to work for at least the next twenty years. (No more visions of bestsellerdom and quitting the day job for me!) I hope we'd be able to have sex for a few more years, anyway. But let me tell you, the old, fat gray mare ain't what she used to be.
If it ever happened, we'd just be growing old together in quiet companionship. Nobody larger than life, nobody appearing as some kind of "better" person because of this or that worldly success. We're getting too old for that, and worldly success is a mirage, anyway. It has nothing to do with how healed you are, or how able you are to show up and share your real self.
It would be a far different life than what I imagined seven years ago, but it would be a more honest life. A healthier life (if HE ever got healthier, which remains in serious doubt.) I don't have any prescriptions for it any more. We'd just get together and discover who each other was. And I don't have any illusions anymore about someone older and more successful than me "proving" I am worthy or making me feel worthy in some way.
It isn't a life I have to fight some other woman over, because I am okay if it doesn't happen. I can sit here alone in my little nest, safe from covid 19, and finish my essay book and enjoy movies on my new large screen TV, and I am okay. And when I'm watching them in the nursing home, and my cozy little nest is all taken down because someone else is living in it, I will be okay then, too.
I've done what I was supposed to do in my life: recover from childhood injury. And that is all that was supposed to happen. Anything else was gravy. (Gravy we BOTH had to work for, but only one of us ever did.)
Maybe somebody else has finally wised up and become willing to work for her gravy. And if she has, they deserve it. It's going to be their fortieth wedding anniversary this year. If it can finally be a good marriage, it should be. That would be the best outcome. I love him enough to wish that for him, if it can happen.
I think that's what REAL love is.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 26, 2022 at 8:35 PM|
So I was out shopping today and found a book on Chiron in the horoscope. Chiron isn't much studied and a lot of astrologers hardly mention it when casting a horoscope, so finding in-depth information about it was tough. When I stumbled on this book I jumped on it.
So of course I'm looking up Chiron in our three charts. And it's exactly descriptive of things that have already happened and what I already know. It's fucking hilarious! (Rory's is just ... Jesus H. Christ.)
I. Must. Write. About. It.
What's not so funny is Chiron in Chi's chart is telling him he has fantastic potential to do a lot of healing work within himself and make a ton of progress. (Which I see in transits coming up in a couple more years, here.) The caveat is the person has to WANT to make the progress and FUCKING APPLY HIMSELF.
I want an iron-toed boot to kick this person with ...
A second topic I must write about: a screenwriter named William Nicholson.
A third: the transits of April 17-20, 2022. I meant to write about that this weekend and got sidetracked, and now I'm tapped out and my eyes are crossing.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 24, 2022 at 9:40 AM|
"I knew I would have made him happier!" or, The Time-Honored Competitive Mantra of The Snarky Other Woman.
Oy. So much to say about this. Suffice it to say: It isn't true.
Last night I snuck back onto Medium to view another entry in the continuing saga of a woman who, after years of terrible unhappiness and furtive affairs, at LAST worked up the courage to leave the husband she shared a horrible marriage with. Their divorce was final this summer.
I have to admire the courage this woman has shown in finally admitting the truth, ending the sneaking around, and doing the right thing. There's been the expected drama with feeling guilty over the kids, struggling with the finances, and the doing-over of the new house, which is never going to match the 4000 sq ft old house with the pool.
Unfortunately, there's also this scenario: For months now she's been seeing two guys. One guy isn't serious about her, they just go have fun dates and disappointing sex, but the other guy (the guy she didn't tell about the first one) ...
This guy's fallen madly in love. He and his wife were splitting up anyway, and he's made it clear he's verrrry serious about this woman.
It's just as clear this woman was never going to be serious about him. If I were going to write about what brilliant sparkle of the personality made me simply adore my late husband, as well as Chi, I would have trouble. You can describe what they do all you want, but it's impossible to capture in words (perhaps it wouldn't be for a more talented writer, but it is for me!) how all that adds up to the adorable-ness factor that makes you know you just wouldn't miss being with them FOR. THE. WORLD. Sex and the City called it the zsa-zsa-zu.
It was pretty clear there was no zsa-zsa-zu with this woman. She's spent the last six months picking the guy, and the relationship, apart. Basically, he's the best sex of her life, and she's just using him. In the comments, I have continued to point this out, telling her that what she's doing isn't kosher and is just going to hurt him.
So, now she's decided that it's time to break it off, and she's looking for a way to do it. By finding some way to pin the breakup on HIM. She's angling to use the fact that he hasn't yet filed for divorce yet, although he said he'd do it within a month. When that is BOGUS. If it wasn't that, it would be that he doesn't make enough money (something she's known all along, of course). If it wasn't that, it would be that he's got diabetes. If it wasn't THAT, it would be ... (fill in the blank).
Which I have pointed out, with the observation that the problem is that she doesn't want to be the bad guy and is looking for a reason to pin the breakup on HIM. I wrote that that won't work, because if he thinks the problem is something he can fix, he's going to try to fix it, and she'll have to come up with another problem and another. Why string someone along whom you are slowly picking to death?
She doesn't like what he comes up with for dates, claiming he wants her to feel special and then taking her to do something she doesn't like. To which I have written, Honey, how is he ever supposed to know what you like and don't like unless and until you speak up, clearly, consistently, using exact English? Seething and seething does not help a person get to know who you are and what you like.
In the latest episode she has stated flat out she doesn't think she can just dump him because he's just not the one for her. She needs an "excuse," (preferably one that makes it his fault.) She doesn't think she's "allowed" to dump someone just because there isn't enough chemistry, and too much about him doesn't make him the one.
To which I made a very stern reply that:
1.) YES, WE ARE ALLOWED. We are ALL allowed. Yes, we are ALL FUCKING ALLOWED to choose who we want to be with and who our hearts are happiest with!!!
If not, everyone on the PLANET would be stuck in bondage to someone we really didn't want to be with because of this or that other thing they didn't do that would constitute "a good excuse" for leaving them!! There would be no happy relationships anywhere, and every kid would be born to a couple who felt like they were just stuck with each other.
Don't we think our KIDS should be allowed to leave someone who just doesn't do it for them and date someone who does??? Then why do we think we "need an excuse?"
2.) She doesn't want to be the bad guy and have someone angry at her, blaming her, or leave someone with hurt feelings. She wants him blaming himself, not her. Which isn't the TRUTH. And,
3.) This comes as a revelation to your average codependent (because all of this behavior and thinking is codependent as shit): Even when it doesn't make them at all happy, PEOPLE NEED THE TRUTH.
How the fuck else are people going to make good decisions when they are not in possession of all the truth that affects their lives?? When we in relationship with them, having sex with them ... using them for sex, or whatnot ... are in possession of crucial information WE WILL NOT REVEAL???
If this guy knew what she really liked, AND that she was unhappy he was not taking that into account on what he called a "special Valentine's day," for example, he would have the information he needed to decide whether or not to alter his behavior. How can he do that if she never reveals how she feels?? She does not owe it to him to sit there and seethe, she OWES HIM THE TRUTH. Then he can live in reality about what is and know what he needs to know in order to decide how he wants to act. If he STILL refuses to alter his behavior, then she has the TRUTH she needs in order to make the best decision for herself, too.
If this guy knew the TRUTH--that she does not love him the way he loves her and never will--he could give up, withdraw, lick his wounds, and find someone who will. Because she BELIEVES HER TRUTH IS NOT VALID, she will not do this. She will find some excuse like how much money he makes ... and he will change jobs and it still won't be good enough ... and she will find another excuse like he has diabetes ... which the guy can't change ... and on and on.
To live like this is hideously, hideously, hideously, HIDEOUSLY
And it is a bad fucking idea, because if we all do it, it pretty much ensures that nobody will be happy, anywhere, EVER.
Not only that, but if I were ever actually with this guy, and he treated me this way?? It would break my heart.
Because I want to know the real him. I want to love the real him. And I want him to trust me.
Ohhh, woe, but this guy feels like he isn't good enough. This guy feels like there is something wrong with him. This guy feels like he shouldn't tell the truth, because not upsetting other people is more important than everyone having the inconvenient but nonetheless necessary privilege of KNOWING WHAT THE TRUTH IS ABOUT THEIR LIVES.
Just like this woman: TWO ABUSIVE CHILDHOODS. TWO CODEPENDENTS AFRAID TO TELL THE TRUTH.
And this is why I know he would never be happier with me.
A guy like this is only going to be "happy" at the top of a mountain, with NO other people. Because then he never has to grovel for other people's approval in order to feel as if he is worthy.
And you can't solve problems this way. You can't know another person this way. All you can do is, as Lisa A. Romano says, turn yourself down, turn yourself down, turn yourself down like a radio until NOBODY CAN HEAR YOU (even when they are begging to do just that), and then be unhappy BECAUSE NOBODY KNOWS YOU. Oh, and because your needs are never met.
The thing is, I can read this guy's CHART, but I cannot read his MIND. Looking at his transits, for example, for the years 2025-2028, I can see that he's overgiven in a relationship again, not spoken his mind, made agreements he isn't happy with, BUT I HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING WHAT THEY ARE. Transits and natal charts aren't that specific.
So, I get the warning but I don't get the facts. Only HE would have the facts. And if he's not allowing himself to be AWARE of the facts, because he's doing some codependent version of Wayne's World ("I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! Gotta make sure SHE'S HAPPY at all costs!"), well ... that's just ensured NOBODY will be happy.
Because one main reason I'm there is, TO BE WITH HIM. As in, I wanna know what the guy is thinking and who the guy really is. Even when it's hard. Even when we're scared. Even when the truth might be, "You looked a whole lot better 40 lbs ago." Even when the truth might be, "I wish we had bought that house, I really hate it living here." Even when the truth might be, "Our sex life isn't doing it for me." Even when the truth might be, "Sometimes I'm really sorry I left Rory, because I'm sad about my family."
That's what a real relationship is, and that is how healthy couples negotiate life.
But THIS GUY will never, ever
So, he'd be unhappy, and then, when it all came out ten years later due to another affair or his depression or whatever, there I'd be ... bawling my eyes out. Because I thought he trusted me.
And I begged so hard to get the truth out of him, and I believed our life was real.
This, folks, is why you don't commit to an unrecovered codependent, and why I could never make him any happier than she does.
Because, for me to do that, I would need some goddamned help from him.
And codependents have grown up being taught that to provide that help, is WRONG.
Which is why, if you want any relationship in your LIFE to go well ... brother ... in-laws ... adult children ... girlfriend ... wife ... anybody at all, you need to get your ass well from codependency and low self-worth!!!
And, last I heard, this guy found that effort "too depressing."
And that's how I know I could never make him happier than she can. No matter how much I know or how hard I try.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 20, 2022 at 8:15 AM|
Coming up on May 28th, it will be seven years since this guy dumped me to go into marriage counseling with his wife (good), and then stayed even though he wasn't happy with the outcome (who knows whether that was good or not. A lot can change in four and a half years.)
I know the guy hangs around here. That would seem to imply that staying wasn't a good thing ... but who knows? He could just be worried that I'm not okay and the whole thing scarred me for life. (Although, if you were happy at home, one would think you'd just fahgedaboudit.) I haven't got a CLUE if that guy has done any work on himself, his codependency, or his low self-worth. Considering the "It's too depressing" mindset I encountered years ago, however, my bet would be "no."
I, however, have changed a lot. (That happens when you work your ass off.) I reflected, in the shower last night, that I am never, ever going to know what actually happened with this guy, their marriage, his feelings, or indeed anything else. A person who lurks and doesn't speak is a person you will know nothing further about.
I remember when he disappeared for about a month this winter. Interesting how there are horoscope transits reflecting communication every time he starts showing up again. However, can you really call this communication?
I think you can, because whether he speaks or not, he's here. If he's here, he's thinking about me. And I, of course, think about him. It's communication in that we each know we are still thinking about each other, and we each know we are still favorably disposed. (Because, if we were angry at one another, or we hated each other, I would be ripping him a new one on here, and he wouldn't be hanging around.) One has to wonder, Is this a good thing?
I know, and this may not be a good thing, that if he suddenly disappeared and never showed up here again, I would be very sad. This would not be a good thing because I am just supposed to fahgedaboudhim, move on, and basically experience total amnesia in this regard. At least, that is what is commonly written that healthy people do.
To be sure, you don't entirely forget anyone you were once in a relationship with. I certainly don't ever forget my late husband, and I think of him at least once a day. The guy before that, I think of from time to time, but I certainly don't miss that person or wish he was visiting here! I do at times abstractly wonder if he's still married to the chick he rushed to the altar with after he dumped me. I do at times wonder what happened there. From the tales I heard it didn't sound altogether healthy, and I believe I may have dodged a bullet with that guy. And I sometimes feel some snarky feelings with regard to this, and it's like, Why? What's the purpose of that? I got together with my husband, we had a great relationship and a wonderful marriage. I was better off.
Until this happened. Which isn't quite a fair thing to say, because, although it was seven years of harrowing pain and misery, I AM still better off. I am better off that it DID happen than I would be if it DIDN'T happen.
It seems hideously unfair and particularly cruel that this is true for children of very unhealthy homes--that if you grew up in an unhealthy home, then you grew up in a LOT of pain, which you can then only cure by ... ta da! Experiencing further relationships that throw you into a LOT of pain. (What's the point of life, then? To just BE MISERABLE???)
Well, actually, the point of OUR lives is to a,) BE MISERABLE, and then b.) LEARN FROM IT.
If you had a miserable heartbreak, but you didn't learn anything from it, you've missed the point, and you MAY have to come back down here in ANOTHER miserable life and repeat it. (And I can show you where that is in your horoscope.) At the very least, you are going to keep on suffering from it in this life, an unhappy--and definitely undesirable--scenario.
One of these days, this person WILL disappear and never come back. We're going to be 54 and 64, and things like strokes, dementia, cancer, and heart disease have a way of happening. If that happens, I will never know what happened unless there's an obituary I can look up. However, if a person is maimed but not killed by a miserable illness, that obituary would be a long time coming. Something tells me I would be looking and hunting around, trying to find out how the person was, and able to find nothing, since the one person I'm still in contact with who used to see him other places isn't in his friends list even on Facebook anymore.
Why be sad because this person disappears one day? After all, it could mean things are finally the way they should be with his wife. Really, that's something to celebrate, since no one wants to spend all of their days unhappy with someone. And I don't want him to spend all of his days unhappy.
Here's an aspect of this many consider to be problematic. In the "To Tell Or Not To Tell That You Cheated" debate, some therapists argue that as long as you do not tell the secret that you cheated to your spouse, you are closer to your affair partner. The two of you share a secret the spouse is excluded from. The two of you have "put one over on her."
Of course, there is the consideration that some spouses are too fragile emotionally to handle the truth or to make good use of the news. There is that. But the rest of the spouses didn't get to make an informed decision about their life based on all the facts. (Such as, "If I had any idea you were about to leave me for another woman, maybe I would have chosen to apply myself in therapy!" Which assumes, of course, that the person has the capacity to apply themselves in therapy.)
This whole issue would imply that I enjoy having this secret with the guy, that I'm closer in that way to him than anyone else, even though we've chosen not to pursue a relationship. Guess so, if one day all evidence of that is gone forever, and I feel sad.
There are valid reasons for this. One, as I've written here before, is that I'm utterly alone in the world, with no one who would give a shit, basically, if I get cancer or have a heart attack or a stroke. If that happened to me, at least one person in the world would care.
(Well, now that isn't true. My therapist volunteered last week to be my "emergency person" since I don't have anyone, and this is a great relief, because even if Chi DID care, I obviously could never, EVER call on him for help. I can employ the firm that does my taxes to serve as executor if I pass away, so now that I have an "emergency person," I don't have to worry that there's no way to take care of essential things WHEN, not IF, I encounter a life-threatening event or terminal illness.)
I'm going to be 54. My late husband's first wife died at this age, and I'm fat. It's not unheard of.
Another valid reason to be glad we're still connected, even if only in this tenuous way, is that if one is struggling in one's life, it's good to know that another person is still thinking of one, rooting for one, even if they have no other way to communicate that, and it isn't appropriate to ever speak or see one another again. Silent support can be a good thing in an environment where you don't otherwise have any, because the people around you don't understand what's really going on with you.
Then we come to the not-OK reasons for being glad the guy is still here and sorry if they're not. The things like a competitive sense of, "I knew I would have made him happier than her!" or, "I was right about this all along! Maybe I can still get him back!" The latter is just plain petty and mean. The former is simply inaccurate. And I'll have more to say about that next post.
Lastly, there's what metaphysics has to say about all this. Yep, astrology, tarot, New Age spirituality, and things of that sort. I guess I will just leave that, although I know what that viewpoint is, because there isn't any way to prove it. Well: Correction. You can't prove it unless it happens. The fact that it didn't happen doesn't make the theory any less valid; we just chose not to do it. So now you have nothing concrete to point to show that it's real, that's all.
"I knew I would have made him happier!" next post.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 20, 2022 at 12:00 AM|
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 17, 2022 at 8:20 PM|
I was going to make this a blog post, but I think it's too important ...
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 17, 2022 at 5:45 PM|
From the Minchiate Tarot, me:
Past: Charity, reversed. (No shit.)
Present: Seven of Swords, reversed. (Oh, really?) (Sure. I'll eat my hair if that happens.)
Future: Aries. (Let's hope so.)
Shadow Truth spread, Chi:
Attitude you assume: Page of Cups, reversed.
Thoughts and feelings that underlie your attitudes: Five of Pentacles.
How your attitude is evolving and will evolve in the future: Eight of Cups.
How others perceive your attitude: King of Cups.
What you cannot confront or are hiding from yourself: Death, reversed.
Creative process spread, Rory:
Creative force behind the project: Empress, reversed.
Force that initiates the project: Queen of Swords, reversed.
Emotion: Knight of Swords.
Process of organizing the project: Three of Pentacles.
Manifestation: Page of Wands.
Me and Chi: (this one's interesting) We got a relationship spread.
How I see myself: Page of Pentacles, reversed.
How I see him: Seven of Cups, reversed.
How I feel about him: The High Priestess.
What stands between us: The Fool, reversed.
How he sees me: Strength, reversed.
How he feels about me: Ten of Swords. (makes sense.)
Status of or challenge of the relationship: Eight of Wands.
Chi and Rory: (Jesus Christ.)
(In a cross and triangle, you do NOT want all the good stuff at the top and all the bad stuff at the bottom.)
Prime energy manifest in your life: (This is the William Blake Tarot.) Magic.
Spirit, process of thought, influence of reason: Nine of Music (Happiness).
Motivations: Ace of Poetry.
Emotions, meditations, influence of love: Water. Position in life: Six of Science (Passage).
First of two opposing forces: Four of Painting, reversed.
Second of two opposing forces: Ace of Science, reversed ("A self-centered point of view.")
Force that will resolve the conflict between the two opposing forces: Forgiveness, reversed. ("Unwillingness to learn from mistakes. Magnifying errors out of proportion. Refusal to hear the inner voice. Lack of forgiveness and compassion.")
Final outcome unless you change course: Three of painting, reversed. ("Failure to master your skills and talents. Lack of engagement with your peers. Unwillingness to synthesize the available factors. Failure to build support.")
Been hearing this a LONG time. Hasn't happened yet.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 13, 2022 at 11:35 PM|
Wayne Baker, MA, LPC, writes in his article on the other woman, that I am a "type."
The Family Counselor Other Woman:
Assuming the role of family therapist is another way to assuage guilt. The other woman offers insights to improve her suitor's communication with his children and to help him understand his wife's point of view. Acting partly out of real concern and partly out of self-preservation, she tries to make things better. Laurel Richardson says that the single woman affair partner does "feminist social work among the married."3 As a result, the affair partner perceives herself as a good person who makes positive contributions to her partner's family life.
Wow. Who knew?
Well, be that as it may, I am now a "type" who knows she can't make any damn person do any damn thing. Furthermore, it isn't my job to decide what's best for anybody other than myself. (Maybe stuck together in a distant marriage is what they want for whatever reason. Or maybe it isn't distant anymore. If not, good for them.)
It's their job to decide what they want and what they're happy with. I can't even solve my own problems, so what am I doing with an opinion on anyone else's? All we're put here to do anyway is to be born into families with varying degrees of dysfunction, and then do our own childhood recovery and growing-up work. We're just supposed to forget other people and solve our own problems. That's it.
It's other people's choice whether they do it or not. I can't make anybody do anything, and even if I can make some educated guesses as to what it is, it's not my job to decide whether they're right or not. It's theirs.
All I'm supposed to do is mind my own business. I don't have any business in the middle of anyone else's life or relationship at all.
So, cool. I'm sitting here by myself minding my own life. The better I do with that, the (hopefully) easier time I'll have should I find myself stuck in another one. (I hope so. This one has SUCKED.)
Moving on!! Next stop: the nursing home and the grave. I've pretty much taken care of everything else I was supposed to do here as far as I know. Forget the writing stuff. I took a wrong turn somewhere and I don't have the talent to make anything of that. I may put a book of essays out, but really. No one's going to care. And what did I want all that silly stuff for anyway? People writing me up in newspapers and hailing me as some kind of talent? Worldly glory is transient, it doesn't change how you feel about yourself in the end, and you can't take it with you. All you take with you when you leave this world is the emotional and spiritual progress you made while you were here.
So, um ... you should actually consider making some, while you still can. Childhood recovery and growing-up work. Because how grown-up are you, if you're still telling yourself the same shit you told yourself hanging your head in your room when you were eight???
So, okay. Crossed the "glory trap" off my list. Until I'm too old and sick to work anymore, I'm just going to work and clean the house, and enjoy nature. That's my life. So, I'm a recovered and resigned "family counselor" type.
*original article: https://www.affairrecovery.com/newsletter/founder/affair-forgiveness-who-is-the-other-woman
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 10, 2022 at 11:25 PM|
… along with a few words about each. I won’t lie, I’m telling you which ones I am most partial to and why.
Mark E. Smith, MSW, Family Tree Life Coaching on Youtube.
I really can’t say enough about the quality of Mark Smith’s videos. Smith started Family Tree Counseling in Carmel, Indiana in the 1980’s and has many decades of experience behind his work. He is a Bowen Family Systems therapist. I believe this is one of the best approaches to infidelity because everything I’ve seen Mark talk about, I’ve seen play out in my family, in my affair partner’s family, and in the relationships of extended family and friends. (It even shows up in people’s horoscopes!) Mark has a lot of personal experience with all the subject matter of his videos and a lot of personal empathy for people. In addition to affair recovery, look for his videos on narcissistic abuse, personality disorders, and being raised by a parent with a personality disorder. If you don’t do anything else, for the love of God people please check out his three part series on the extramarital affair, The Slaughter of Trust
Jerry T. Wise, MA. MS, CL, Jerry Wise Relationship Systems, also on Youtube.
Jerry Wise practiced for many years with Mark Smith at Family Tree in Carmel, Indiana, so their approaches are very similar. Mark Smith is more of a plain talking straight shooter, and Jerry is a bit more formal and clinical, but all of their videos are chock-full of information you shouldn’t miss. Jerry has a number of videos out on affair recovery, but his main specialty is codependence and ACoA recovery.
(And if any of you know you’re codependent, let me recommend Lisa A. Romano, again on Youtube. You won’t find anything on affair recovery here, but her videos for those abused or neglected as children shouldn’t be missed. She is plain-talking and full of compassion.)
Marie Murphy, Ph.D., on her website.
Dr. Murphy bills herself as the nonjudgmental relationship coach for people having affairs, and that is an accurate description. Dr. Murphy works with all three points on the affair triangle in a way that brings clarity and self-confidence to your thinking. She runs a weekly podcast you will find liberating to listen to, and has her own column in The Scarlett Letter on Medium. She covers everything: Recent topics include Regret, The Holidays, Being Honest With Yourself, and your relationship with your children.
Rick Reynolds, LCSW, on his website, affairrecovery.com. Affair recovery from a religious perspective and with a definite Christian slant. Not my fave due to the emphasis on sin and the idea that the marriage is nearly always the correct path and the affair is an addiction; but if you are Christian, you agree with these perspectives, too, and there’s a lot of wisdom to ponder here on topics like forgiveness and what the cheater gets out of blaming the spouse. His affair recovery timeline is worth a look.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 10, 2022 at 3:25 PM|
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 8, 2022 at 7:10 PM|
So here I am struggling to get my essay book lined up and figure out how to work KDP, which I swore I would never do, because I hate struggling with difficult software so much that I believed it would never be worth it for a book that would never sell. But now I'm banned on Medium, so I have to put out a book if I want anyone to see these essays.
But why am I banned on Medium? For that matter, why can't I quit making snarky comments on RethugliKKKan posts ... even when they're on my brother's Facebook page? Or on articles about What One Must Do To Lose Weight?
Because these posts Make Me Mad. REALLY, REALLY MAD.
I used to sit demurely and not say a word when people were doing or saying things I thought were wrong, because I was afraid to argue with anyone, and believed I really didn't know all that much about all that much anyway. Then, I met my friend Inari, who was never afraid to call anyone out about anything, and could do so very well, too.
I started to think that we will never see anything change if we're "nicey-nice" to people who still think Dump won the election, or that giving huge tax gifts to the rich and lying about covid and screwing over Ukraine to screw over the Bidens were good things. Not to mention all the tacky racist things he said and how fucking ignorant he was and how he licked Putin's and Kim Jong-Un's boots and ... I could go on. Listen to people with a Dump/RethugliKKKan mindset talk and you basically hear the same viewpoint over and over:
"People are supposed to be PERFECT, damn it!! And if you aren't perfect, it's because you are LAZY!!!"
These people have NO empathy for ANYONE. They've been told whatever they've been told and that's what it is, and no matter WHAT your experience is, they don't want to hear it. You are just lazy and a bad person.
Shannon Ashley, who writes on Medium, has an illness called lipedema that results in massive, massive accumulations of fibrosis and fat in the thighs and calves. No matter what the person does, the fat just grows and grows like cancer. These people can end up weighing hundreds of pounds, and while diet and exercise may slim the rest of the body (for a while) the thighs and calves remain huge. The only cure is liposuction.
Shannon is in the middle of three liposuction surgeries to get her legs down to a size that will actually enable her to walk normally. She has been writing about this for some two years now. And STILL there will be a troll popping up to call her an unfit mother because she "just won't diet and exercise," and to say she is lazy and selfish. When she's written extensively about every diet and weight loss regimen she's been on, and her doctor is a specialist who's written extensively that this form of fat is unresponsive to diet and exercise. A person in the late stages of this disease will never have normal-looking legs. Never.
I see stupid idiot RethugliKKKans "mansplaining" to me how people are poor because they are lazy and don't want to work--including me. It does not matter WHAT I say to some of these people. They just KNOW I should have been 100% debt free and have tons of money saved up for retirement, they just KNOW I should be bone thin, and the only reason this isn't true of me is because I am lazy.
It isn't the first time I've been on the receiving end of this kind of garbage. A poster on Medium wrote about the abusive childhood she had, in which the parents did nothing around the house and used their very small children to do all the housework, and I had this to say:
Boy, does THIS bring back memories.
I remember long lists of 20 rules (mostly chores) taped up to the back of my bedroom door. I remember my mother saying she wished my best friend was her daughter because SHE set the table for dinner without being asked.
I remember coming home from school every Friday and having to clean one entire wing of the house. That was: three bedrooms, the hallway, and two bathrooms, pick up, dust, vacuum, and scrub sinks and toilets. I was ... let's see. I was struggling to get done before The Dukes of Hazzard came on, so ... 1979? I was at most 11, possibly 10. I wasn't allowed to do anything else before I was finished except stop for dinner (and, of course, to help do dishes.) Saturday I wasn't allowed to do anything until all my homework was done.
I remember my mother bitching if I didn't clean. I remember her bitching if I did clean. She bitched while I cleaned about the way I cleaned. My grandmother and father would be routinely told that I was banging the vacuum into the furniture (I don't remember banging the vacuum into any furniture), and then it was decided I was doing it on purpose in an attempt to get out of having to vacuum. Since nothing like that had occurred to me, I was routinely angry at the adults in the family who said these things. One time I broke down crying during a conversation of this nature because I had parents who actually thought such mean things about me and were telling me I was this mean kid and there was nothing I could do about it. Then they bitched that I was crying in order to manipulate them, which only made me cry harder.
The bathrooms were a particular trial. I remember getting screamed at repeatedly week to week. I would keep a running head file of what she screamed about and alter my routine the next week until I finally hit on a routine that didn't get me screamed at. Once I found this routine, I made sure to do everything the exact same way every time. (Example: I got screamed at every week for not cleaning the "back" of the toilet, which I assumed was the top of the tank. At LONG last, my mother, instead of screaming and spanking me, actually took me in the bathroom and showed me what she meant: that crevice behind the toilet lid and the toilet tank.) She would do the same thing over folding clothes. She would scream over how I hung clothes on the line wrong without ever showing me how she wanted them hung (as if it fucking mattered) or scream that pants were to be folded "seam to seam" without ever considering that you CAN fold pants in half and the seams still touch. Then she would complain that HER parents used to treat her that way, and never once notice that she was doing the exact same thing to me.
My brother never, ever, ever, EVER had to do a lick of chores around the house, or ever got spanked over them, or ever got complained about to other family members for being "lazy" because he did not want to do any. There was an awful lot of screaming and spanking around our house all the time, most of it over housework.
Over the years we all became addicted to the serial "Guiding Light." I got off the bus at 3:30 pm, which would have allowed me to actually sit down and catch the last half hour before starting to do whatever chores she was bitching about today. Sad to say, she would be sitting there watching it when I got home, but if I sat down instead of jumping directly to the laundry or whatever, I got yelled at. As anyone can see, it is entirely possible to fold clothes and watch TV at the same time, but nothing doing ... I still got yelled at. Not being able to do a simple thing like sit and watch my favorite program for even half an hour after school made me very angry.
I have spoken to my mother only about three times in the last sixteen years. The last time she brought up how stubborn a child I was and that I picked all the heads off her marigolds when I was eight right after she told me not to. Gee, wonder what I could have been angry about? Between going to school and getting picked on and ostracized by classmates and coming home to this, I have very few happy memories from childhood. I mostly hated her and couldn't wait to leave home. Of course, then it came out how she had been sexually abused and hit by my grandfather, and that was most confusing. I felt sorry for her and her life of suffering at the same time as all this anger about how she treated me.
In short: Yep. Chores can definitely be child abuse.
What's coming to mind here is I actually have a LOT of sympathy for people who are doing all they can humanly do, yet their circumstances are not acknowledged, and millions of people just look at them and believe they are bad, lazy people because they "just know" it's true. I AM SO ANGRY AT THESE PEOPLE. So, I get triggered and write posts that get me banned. So many idiot people do not understand that, even though it's possible to become, say, a plumber, and earn a good living without incurring thousands and thousands in college debt, if you realize that long past the age of eighteen, it might have something to do with your parents and home and school environment, not just you. Also, the "Too bad, YOU were stupid!" approach only helps the ego of the speaker, which clearly shows they don't give a living shit about the other person.
Too many people think the size, shape, and look of the body is all that matters, and not the quality of life for the person living in that body. If subsisting on 800 calories a day for the rest of your life is what you have to do to get and keep a figure that person doesn't mind looking at, well, then one must do it. Never mind that 800 calories is what people starved to death on in Nazi Germany and very unpleasant to subsist on ... oh, for THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. If working out three hours a day is what gives you a size they think is acceptable, well, then, one must do it! Never mind that in this economy, with jobs and kids and laundry and cleaning and commuting, when would one sleep? No, no, no, no--YOUR QUALITY OF LIFE DOES NOT MATTER. Only whether these people like how you look.
I am only just discovering the anger toward this mindset I really have. And, yes, part of it is also about people who have affairs. There is ZERO understanding toward these folks, either, and a shit load of ignorance.
I really need to be more cognizant of this and learn to handle it better. I mean, fuck, man. I made $8000 last year writing about infidelity on Medium. (No, that was not a typo.) Now ... I mean, come on. How'm I supposed to get people to buy an ebook??? I can't even sell my late husband's.
Common sense is now required.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 5, 2022 at 4:50 PM|
So, I posted recently about my brother not responding to me when I tried to check in on Facebook how our mother is doing in the hospital. He just didn't answer me, and one of his friends yelled at me. I posted about being utterly alone in the world now, and how it was actually for real. And I was really distressed about that.
What astounded me was, a day or two later, I was like, "Okay. Fine." I haven't been "fine" about having no one to put in my "Contact in case of emergency" blank, like, ever. But, ever since the married guy high-tailed it back to parts only-too-well-known, that's been pretty much my reality. In theory, at least.
Now it was for real.
I guess I've been contemplating it for so long, I finally have gotten used to the idea. I recall taking care of my husband in his dying days, thinking, What am I going to do when this is me and there's no one here? And, Who the hell is going to cremate me and bury me with him? And within a day or two I finally was, just, like, Okay, guess I'll just handle everything alone, then. There are companies who come in and clear out a dead person's personal effects when there's no next of kin. I guess that will be this place, then. Unless I die in a nursing home instead.
Used to be that thought was terrifying. Now, it's just the way it is.
I really think all of us ought to be easing ourselves to that point. Sure, most of us have loved ones, and for most of us the thought of no longer having those loved ones fills us with sorrow and fear. But the fact is, no one is obligated to stay with us or take care of us. And no one should be.
Besides that, anything can happen and a person who has loved ones today may not have them tomorrow. Not only do we need to be prepared to face life-altering diagnoses, terminal illness, and death on our own, but clinging to people just because we are afraid to do this very thing isn't fair to the people or to us. I still appreciate that the married guy cares enough to look in on me. But I wouldn't want him to feel obligated to, and I need to be able to feel okay even if he doesn't.
We wax on and on about how People neeeeeed people and No one should EVER be alooooone!! But, as I'm given to understand it, we really are put here to handle everything we need on our own and spiritual growth means doing just that. Now, I don't mean that the very very rich among us should be able to use this as an excuse to make life as hard as they possibly can for everyone else while they use these very same people to enrich themselves.
Yet, I think we make far, far too much of how desperately we neeeeed other people and how miserable humans are alone. Just because the majority of us feel and do worse when alone, doesn't mean we are supposed to be that way. We think we are ... but we're NOT.
Nobody wants a person to be with them just because the person is afraid of taking care of themselves or facing death alone. Besides, as I've seen with everyone whose death I've witnessed up-close-and-personal: We all face death alone, anyway.
I'm glad I've finally gotten to the point where I'm just ready to get on with things instead of being paralysed with terror. The fact is, life is shitty anyhow. You're going to go through misery, period. At the end of your life, it's just a matter of degree. Might as well buck up and get strong enough to do it. It's called, "Maturing and becoming an adult instead of a child."
Besides, why should I worry about people having to clear away my detritus after I'm gone? By and large, no one much gave a shit while I was here. Someone will have to when I'm dead!
A couple of days after this, my brother messaged me as if I hadn't even messaged him. Asking me how the car was running?? WTF?? Turns out my mother has finally gotten through pneumonia and is going to a rehab center. My stepfather has pretty terrible dementia. It's sad.
Worse, it all happened after his BP hit 300 and he had a stroke. (Which I wonder if that would have happened had he divorced my mother instead of staying around taking a crap from her all these years.) And after that, she stood over his hospital bed berating him for not taking care of himself, with not a kind word to spare, from what I heard. (SEE what I mean??)
I don't know. Whatever.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on February 27, 2022 at 11:45 PM|
I know it's you. You can quit hiding behind the VPN. Your view pattern is TOO obvious, whether GA is telling me you're in Norfolk or Orlando or what-have-you. I mean, c'mon.
And, again, thanks for being here. You know why, because I saw you read it. Check out the links in the post below while you're here.
|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on February 27, 2022 at 11:35 PM|
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