GothGeek's Musings

This has been a strange, strange week.

Actually, things have been nothing but strange, hectic, and difficult since we got back. +Kyle and I have fought more than ever for weeks. I flipflop on how I feel, and what I think I'm capable of right now. He flipflops on whether or not to kick me out or hold onto me for dear life.

He's threatened to kill himself over me leaving twice this week...this after telling me to get out if I don't want him for him *now*. The last time (I guess it was Thursday) resulted in me getting pretty bruised and slightly cut up from wrestling his 1911 away from him, then his knife, then trying to wear him out hiding the gun in pieces so he couldn't use it. I actually remembered to take the bullet out of the chamber this time, but I couldn't get the safety off to actually do it. This is the pistol he built, and the safety is really tight. I let him believe I threw the gun under the stairs to buy some time, but since it wouldn't budge, I had to hide it. So we played, "Where's the gun? What did you do with it?" for about an hour. This is a fun game where I say nothing and he makes various threats to my bodily health and happiness to try to get me to talk. It's not fun getting tapped in the face with a flashlight, waiting for the blow that's going to cave in part of it.

So after about two hours, and another session of insane laughter at nothing funny, he got to the point of realizing just what he was doing, and stopped. He swears this was the last time. Never again. It sure as hell is the last time. I can't do this anymore. Love puts up with a lot, but it's not stupid, either.

I should note here that he had unplugged the phone and thrown it somewhere so I couldn't call the police, and I wasn't about to leave him alone in the house long enough to find a neighbor who would get up at that hour.

Lots of talking afterward. I don't remember what about, but we calmed down for the time being.

So Friday, we went out, despite having had quite the argument. Much the same topic. I'm not in love with him *now*, so I should just leave. We *had* to go out, because +Kyle needed to pick up his check, and we needed groceries, but also we had been planning to go to the mall all week, just to get out of the house. Now, the last time we'd talked about it, he'd mentioned just going alone. I thought that was a good idea. But we get to Friday, and when I don't want to go, still thinking it a good idea for him to try things without me, he sulks, provoking the argument.

So I ended up going anyway. We went to the mall, obtained Sakkio and then bummed around separately. Ran into each other a couple of times. Decided to leave, and in the car, he asked what kind of a break I wanted. I said I'd been thinking it might be a good idea for me to move out for a couple of months. No, that's not acceptable. If I leave for any amount of time, he'll find me with divorce papers.

So I left that alone, and we drove along to see if Formosa was still around. Someone allegedly found a cat's tooth in their chicken one time around November of last year. I smell conspiracy, because they were planning on a remodel, and had closed for it around that time. It's now something like Fortune Chinese Buffet, and I hope it's run by the same people, because their food was the absolute best. Maybe it really was cat, but if so, I'd live on it. :P Animals taste good.

So we went to Toys R Us afterward just to look around, and avoid going back to the house right away. More separate browsing. I was looking at CDs and games, and +Kyle came up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but, can I take you out for coffee?" I didn't get what he was doing, but accepted and linked arms with him. He asked if I was that close with everyone, or if he was just that good. I started to understand, and said I was just that affectionate, and he was kinda cute.

So he started talking about his wife and how he was feeling neglected and they were having a lot of problems, etc. We went down to Barnes and Noble since there's a Starbucks, got frappuccinos and sat down and talked about our respective situations. It was interesting talking about him like he wasn't there, and hearing his take on things I have done. We speculated about each other's spouses and the reasons they might do the things they do. Maybe he didn't understand that his reactions to her "health craze" was actually destructive. Maybe she doesn't want to tell him about things that bother her, because it'll mean she's nagging, etc. "I know that's something I tend to do," type speculation.

It was an interesting approach, but I still didn't understand exactly his reasoning behind it. He kept saying things like, "Maybe I just need to let her go...give her the space she's looking for." I'm sitting here going, "He finally gets it!" He said that he didn't know how things were going to work out with his wife, but that he liked me and would like to spend some time with me, maybe going out on the weekends or something.

To me, that sounds like someone who has resigned themself to the fact that they can't be with the person they love for whatever reason. Perhaps I only think this way because it's what I've had to do.

But no...when we got back to the house, and I 'crashed at his place', he decided he wanted to talk about the evening. I really didn't think it a good idea, but agreed to against my better judgment.

It turned out that he was trying to start over with no baggage. Good idea, perhaps, but he was still trying to force something that isn't there, which only frustrated matters more. THEN he turned around and asked, "Will you marry me?" Did he really expect me to say yes?

I tried, I really did, to be calm and explain why this wasn't a helpful situation, but it just deteriorated. He started praying for me to be healed from our fight, and for our marriage to be restored. I didn't even say an amen. I was too beyond frustrated and exhausted to know if I really agreed, and am I going to lie about it? Not even.

So yesterday we muddled along after yet another fight before he went to work. He said, "If you don't want me for me...don't be here when I get back." So I tried to find somewhere to go with no luck. Called Mary. No answer. Called Pam. No answer. Got on LJ to see if anyone was even on that I could talk to. Des replied, but she was going out to help Jason, and she's been sick anyway, so I wouldn't want to burden her with this right now.

So I debated what to do at all, and, still being mentally exhausted, I took a nap on the couch. Most of my stuff is packed, and he didn't say I should take everything...just to not be there. The problem being that I had nowhere to go, I left messages and waited for some reply. Pam called around 6:00, and we talked for a long time about what's been going on. I came to some disturbing conclusions, the largest of which is that, even though I didn't sleep with anyone else, I'm still an adulteress in this. Emotional lust is still lust. Wanting what's not rightfully yours in the stead of what is yours. We talked about other things, like what's helped her in her marriage, their struggles with mental problems. Granted, she's never had to deal with physical abuse, but their problems have been dreadful.

She did tell me something that I think I finally get. I asked her, "How much is 'a lot'?" She said she thought I knew, but honestly, I didn't. She said that there comes a point where you have to ask if you've truly done everything you can for this person, and when you get to that point, you have to remember that the choices they make are THEIR choices. She said I am not responsible for the things +Kyle does. She said it was a hard lesson for her to learn that she was not responsible for the times when Gg made self-damaging choices, but eventually she learned it.

I'm at that point.

I told her about the things that +Kyle has changed so drastically to try to make this work. Yes, it was all based on hope and perhaps some faith, but he did get a job. He hates it, but he's said he'll stick with it as long as it takes. He found us a place to live. She expressed consternation on the timing of it, my stress level, and the fact that we have NO money.

I had seriously thought about staying in Oklahoma for a couple more weeks, just to keep drawing a paycheck and get things going that much more easily. She said that could have been a good idea. The problem was that +Kyle has always said if I stayed behind, or leave him, it's for good. So far I haven't been able to, in good conscience, do that. And the few times I've taken him at his word, it's resulted in him begging me to stay in some way or another.

I have, up to this point, been operating under the belief that it's possible that I could learn to love +Kyle again. I've come to realize that's impossible until my feelings for Scooter fade to a sufficiently "friendly" level. I don't know how long that's going to take, or honestly, if it will happen at all. Until that happens, all I have to hang onto is my desire to do what's right in spite of what I want. I've tried to explain this to +Kyle on numerous occasions, but only last night did he *get* it. Now all of a sudden, he's willing to wait. I guess he sees a ray of hope in this. I'm not there yet. I'm still hurting from this.

+Kyle has gone over time and time again how he's hurting too. I know he's hurting. It's kindof my fault that he's hurting. He reminds me constantly how we shouldn't even be here - I'm punishing him by making him wait for me to love him like I should, being that he's my husband and all. I've explained time and time again that it's not intentional. It never has been. Well...I can't say that...but it didn't start that way. I was starving for something, didn't know how to get it , and when it came along by accident, I held on with both hands, even when the voice in the back of my mind said, "You really don't need to be here." By then, I didn't care anymore because I was happy, and +Kyle didn't seem to mind since I was finally less melancholy.

Until of course it got to the point where I gave my heart, which I had so carefully locked away from +Kyle to keep from getting hurt anymore, to someone to whom I had no right. Then I got more depressed than before.

Still operating under this belief that it may be possible to be happy with +Kyle again, I've had to stop talking to Scooter at all, even as a friend. At least for awhile. It's so draining on me. I know we can't be anything more than friends, and I can't keep expending energy on something for which hope must be postponed indefinitely. Even if +Kyle and I do wind up separating, I'll have no choice but to be alone, because the woman at the well was forgiven...but told to go and sin no more. If I want to do the right thing, I have to play by the rules...even though it hurts like hell. I have explained this to them both as best I know how, but I don't think either one really understands.

Scooter has always said my happiness is the most important thing to him. If I can be happy with +Kyle, that's what he wants for me. If I can't be happy unless we're apart, that's what he wants for me. Yet, he will wait to the end of his days for a chance to be with me if possible. That is a great source of pain for me in this, too, because I let things go so far.

I can't help that we grew to love each other so deeply. I should have told him I feared where this was going much sooner than I did. And when I actually realized where it was going, I should have said goodbye before things got so involved. But I was foolish...arrogant...I thought I could control things better. I thought I could keep my feelings in check. We both did.

I miss him so, so much. I miss everyone.

There was a little girl in church this morning. She looked almost just like Twyla. About the same age...darker hair, but similar facial features, and a sweet temperment. I cried all during church, partially because of her and missing Twyla and everyone, and partially because the sermon and readings hit really close to home right now. It was about faith and what kinds you can have:

No faith (disciples in the storm)
Little faith (Peter falling after walking on the water)
Great faith (pagan woman begging Jesus for her daughter's healing)

The underlying idea was that faith, being the stuff of which our hopes are made, and the evidence of things we can't physically experience, is the reason behind the things we do as Christians, or rather, it should be.

I'm so sad today. I'm trying to open up to +Kyle, but it's hard because the main reason I'm sad is the main reason he's angry. It's not fair that he is in this situation, but it's still not fun for me, either.

I am utterly spent.

Friday was not exacly relaxing, but mostly spent with friends, so it wasn't too bad.

Saturday was absolutely harrowing. I honestly don't remember most of it. I was so tired all day, and all +Kyle and I did was talk.

I've said in times past that my brain is fried, but it's never been like this. I have gotten to the point where my body literally cannot stay awake because my brain is so tired from talking and thinking. I'll start to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation just because I can't handle any more.

Sunday was much the same, but we made a lot of progress. I told +Kyle about the inappropriate touching when I was little. I really hadn't made the connection to all the problems of resentment toward +Kyle stemming from that. I know it's where my inability to forgive myself comes from. But when I told him, he said that a lot of other things made sense now. I guess they do make more sense to me, too, now, but I still feel like one of those people who tries to hang all their problems on a "traumatic childhood". I'd buried it a long time, and it would pop up now and then, but was never anything that I truly considered serious, short of my own lack of self-forgiveness.

The other individual involved in the situation is not important. I have never held it against them - only myself, for being afraid of "being told on", and for being afraid that the authority figure would not side with me, even though I *knew* the situation was inherently wrong.

I suddenly realize why I feared being in the wrong with that authority figure. I was placed in a daycare for a short time, and the "caretaker", such as she was, was not kind to me (or the other kids, I'd imagine). I got picked on a lot at that daycare. I recall being held down by bigger kids so they could take my gum. I wasn't generally included in games - even when they'd say I could play, I was ignored. I tried to get the caretaker's attention when I saw something was wrong, or felt I was being mistreated, but she always said I was a tattle-tale and not to bother her with that. She was just mean. Her bratty granddaughter bit me once, and I admittedly retaliated by tripping her, but I was the one placed in the corner, despite showing the caretaker the teeth marks that left a bruise. Her granddaughter was not found at fault at all.

I am grateful that I was not in that place for very long.

How can I forgive myself for allowing something wrong to happen? Have I not truly forgiven those who mistreated me and whose who did not defend me when I was in pain? How can I stop this pattern in my life?

I have a feeling something large is going to happen.

It's going to be soon.

I have a decision to make, most likely tomorrow....a life-changing one. Whatever my heart says at that time, I must follow, or the path will be more difficult.

Someone is going to get hurt.

I'm really scared.

So I had no idea that +Kyle was just playing around yesterday. I come back to the house at lunch - got a little eyeshadow on, nothing major. I've "cut back" significantly since +Kyle made such a fuss over the whole thing, but I never said I'd stop. So he looks at me, and he has this weird frowning sort of smile that I can't decipher. I say so, and ask what's wrong.

"Take a wild guess. Why all this?" He's really serious sounding, so I get a little upset, being as I haven't worn it for a few days, just because he prefers me that way.

"I felt like it today." I don't remember what he said, but I reply something to the effect of, "You're not at work with me, you don't have to see it."

"So does this mean you should be worried about what I do when you're not around?" I think is about what he said. I asked what he was doing when I wasn't around that I should be worried about, and he said something about it being the same thing...to be fair.

Trying to lighten the tension, I kid around, asking what it is he's doing while I'm not around. Oops. *He* thought *I* was serious.

We talked it over last night before bed, and everything's sorted out, but good heavens. I will be so glad when we get past this whole trying-to-learn-to-communicate-again phase, because it's so bloody confusing.

I told him last night I've been afraid he's going to be some kind of control freak, but he said that's exactly what he doesn't want, because he still feels like he's losing me and that will just drive me away.

We talked about friends and getting along. I'm not really comfortable around his friends. Not that he really has more than one that he *calls* 'friend', but I think of the others are more than acquaintances, so I'd call them friends, too. That's just me. Anyway, I tried to explain that my friends are all pretty loud and flamboyant, and call attention to themselves, and that he's just not that kind of person. He's reserved, and likes to stay in the background. I told him I'm more concerned about HIS being comfortable than in whether I'm going out for a "girls' night out".

I don't know why Lori invited him along tonight - probably just being nice, since they don't really know each other, and we're leaving in less than two months. I don't know if he'll go or not, but I did try to impress upon him that it's not a matter of whether I *want* him to or not, but his comfort level.

I guess we'll see!

I know, I said I wouldn't, but it hurts so much. I had to do something just to get through the day, and I can't sleep at work.

The blade was brand new. Clean.

It's a diamond-shaped cut. I kept it wet for a long time so it would bleed longer. It stings a little. It's a lot deeper than I ever cut before, but I don't think it'll scar. Even if it does, it's okay. I think it's pretty.

It's high. Will hide under a t-shirt sleeve. I should put something on it, but I don't really want to yet.

What I really want is to keep it open. Cut over it as it heals. Keep the lines fresh. They're so beautiful.

I'm not sorry I did it. I was just so sick today. If I can't sleep, I have to do something, and I have drugs nor herbs. I never filled that Paxil scrip, and I bet I don't have it anymore. I think I burned it. Not that it matters. It's like $100 for only a couple of weeks' worth...and that's generic. I don't have that kind of money.

But blades are cheap, and blood flows with no effort.

I hope I don't need this too much. +Kyle probably won't notice me coming home with a new wound now and then, since I'm such a klutz, but I can't make him suspicious, and it's getting too warm to wear long sleeves all the time.

I want to tell him, but he's going to be so upset with me when he finds out. He made me promise I'd never do it again, and we all know how he reacts to broken promises. Good Lord, it was just LAUNDRY! I'm sorry I forgot!

I have to stop thinking about this, or I'm going to do something else really stupid.

I've been thriving for two days on an event that, in all probability, meant nothing to the other individual involved.

But it meant something to me.

I'm a flirt...always have been. Anyone who knows me should have figured this out. (I'm really beginning to think that +Kyle hasn't...) It never got me anywhere as a teenager, because my friends were all tall, svelte, and charming. Me? Short...chunky at my best...a joker who "uses too many big words", to give a quote... Self-esteem zero... Needless to say, my friends were stopped by cute guys, asked for their numbers on at least several occasions, and fairly successful at getting males to pay them heed. I wasn't even very cute in comparison to them, and the only thing I was really good for was getting a chuckle out of the guys once they were interested in one of my friends. I pretended like this didn't bother me, and for years denied I had any interest in boys (due to misunderstandings that I now comprehend). In truth, I think I was the worst of the bunch to crush on someone, especially if they were nice to me in any way.

But look at my high school friends now...few of them have healthy, lasting relationships. Not that my marriage is SO healthy, but...I try. We both do, to some degree.

There have been many times when I was actually depressed that the only way I could get a guy was online...they had to know me for me before they found me attractive. Yes, it's so much better to build a relationship on that trust and knowledge...but what's inherently wrong with wanting your crush to notice you, knowing he won't because you're just not that cute? Even after we got married, and +Kyle would beg me to tell him, "I'm pretty," I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe he thought so. Even though he wouldn't lie to me, I never really believed him when he'd say I was beautiful or sexy. It always struck me as that stupid line: "You're a beautiful person" or "You have inner beauty". Maybe I was, but that didn't change what I wanted to be.

So I had to change it myself.

+Kyle...really hasn't supported me in this endeavour of self-improvement. The extent of it has been:

Me: "Do you like me better this way?" (thinner; healthier)
Him: "Well...are you happy?"
Me: "Yes, I really am."
Him: "Then I like you better this way."

Truly, I appreciate that he wants me to be happy, but he comes across as not caring, and at first even made fun of the lifestyle changes I've made. Sometimes he still picks a little bit, but I try not to let it get to me as much.

So here I am, age 24, looking the best I have in my entire life. I did this all for myself, and I enjoy the fruits of it to the fullest. For the first time ever, I *do* feel pretty, and have some small form of self-confidence. I'm still a flirt, only now it has the potential to get me somewhere...so I have to be careful. There are fleeting moments when I wish I were single so I could have a little fun with it.

So we come to Thursday night... This adorable guy floated around all evening, and I found it so very hard not to get myself into serious trouble. I caught him looking at me once or twice even before we ever spoke, and it just felt so good. For all I know, he was thinking how ridiculous I looked in elf ears...but I don't think so. His actions spoke volumes. I can't even describe how I felt.

Joanna asked such a little thing. No, I didn't like the song, but I didn't care, either. She really wanted this, as silly as it was, and I was willing to give it to her. +Kyle wasn't even willing to do it for me, much less a friend.

I wasn't important enough to him to put away his hatred for a stupid genre of music.

I wanted to fulfill a desire for a friend, and another man was willing to fulfill *my* desire. Does it matter what his motives were? No, although I'm curious... It was a chivalrous gesture.

For me, it was the culmination of years of wishing for a guy to look at me, like what he saw, and approach. Whether it was actual physical attraction, or just Scooter being a nice guy doesn't really matter. He made me feel special in a way I'd forgotten wanting.

It hurts that my own husband wouldn't do that for me. Truth be told, if he had, I wouldn't have had that feeling of being special...it would have been merely a nice cuddle to music.

It hurts most that in five minutes, a total stranger did what +Kyle hasn't been able to do in over five years.

I've dreamed about my vampire every night since, and reveled in the memory of his gentle touch every day. I don't confuse the feelings I have for him with love...but they are strong. I want to see him, to really thank him, and then I suppose I must say goodbye. Even if that night *did* mean anything to him, nothing could come of it. I'm not willing to destroy what I have (such as it is at times).

Okay...

So I've already been plagued with strange dreams involving other men. Did I really have to go and make things worse on myself? Why yes, yes I did.

It finally rained today, so I decided to burn old papers that we didn't need anyore...bank receipts, etc. I had a couple folders of misc. stuff that I'd been meaning to get rid of, including Danny's old letters & our chats. I've been meaning to get rid of these things for about 5 years, but just never managed to get around to it. It's one of those things I didn't want to have to 'explain' having if +Kyle ever did find them.

But instead of just tossing the folder into the flames, I started reading. Yes, they all eventually got burned, and I didn't read everything all over again - just enough to remember the early days of our relationship when he ended every letter and chat with 'remember I love you.' I was so full of teen angst then, and he was a lot more mature than I gave him credit for toward the end.

I really believe he loved me once. He truly cared about my well being, and was concerned over the smallest things. He treated me like a princess. I actually found myself wondering...maybe regretting is too strong a word... I wonder what would have happened if I had run away to be with him. Or if I had at least told my parents about him...would they have let me meet him?

He was ready to take me away from everything if I would just say the word. He'd have bought me a ticket out of there. He would have taken me in. He'd have given me anything I ever desired. I'd have never wanted for anything.

But would I be happy like that?

I have to remember the fights. They weren't many, but they were over big things. He wanted kids. I disliked them. He's Catholic. Catholicism takes Christianity and twists it into such a contorted practice that it's no wonder it's so popular - who could complain about a free ticket to heaven? All you have to do is pay your way out of Purgatory. You don't even have to stop sinning, as long as you go to confession.

But I digress...this is not about the issues of traditionalism...this is about me in a place I don't understand.

Not only the fights...remember what he did? He didn't accept me for who I was when I went crazy. He barely tried to stop me when I was going to kill myself. Instead, he told a mutual friend that we had broken up and went with her. Who does that??

But I was a problem, too... I was so attached, but unwilling (??) to do anything to complete the circle. I wanted to be with him, but was too afraid to let it happen. Too afraid of my parents. I sought their approval rather than trying to be happy...even though I was miserable where I was. I knew they needed me. Mom was having so many problems then. Dad couldn't take care of everyone and keep working. I had to take care of everyone. I couldn't abandon them.

I pined after he so unceremoniously dumped me. Here, the man who had asked me to marry him didn't even officially break things off. Being the mature teen that I was, I wrote all kinds of awful pleading letters. Naturally, when those didn't work, I turned to bad-mouthing him to everyone we knew. Look what he did to your beloved Diamond...

I can't believe I was ever that horrible...but I was.

I did end up apologizing, and he accepted, saying we'd be friends...but I've heard from him perhaps once or twice since then.

He's married now. I happened upon the wedding site in late 2001. Kimmy is really cute, and I'm glad for them both. My entry of congratulation was deleted from the guestbook. I assume he's trying to close that chapter, or perhaps Kimmy doesn't want me around - don't blame either of them if that's the case. They've got a great new house...very pretty, and it sounds like a nice neighborhood. One of those fancy communities.

Am I envious of Kimmy? I don't think so - I'm genuinely happy that Danny found someone to have and to hold, and she seems like a nice girl. Certainly, I'm curious - what would it have been like if I had been that someone?

Maybe it just comes down to this...am I satisfied now?

I love +Kyle. I can't imagine losing him for any reason, and the thought of doing anything to hurt him absolutely kills me. I can't see myself in that position. We agree on the important things like Scripture. Neither of us wants kids.

But things aren't like they were. I don't get excited like I used to. Like when we first started dating, the mention or thought of just a kiss was enough to set my heart racing. It's commonplace now. It may mean 'I love you', but it doesn't MEAN it. The dreams I've had lately bring back that fluttering rush, and it both excites and saddens me.

I've spent the last year supporting him. He had a desire: to go back to school. No, I didn't want to move 800 miles away from everyone and live in the middle of nowhere. But I did it for him. Of course, I ONLY did it after months of prayer and uncertainty as to whether or not this was the right thing, but when it became apparant that it was the right decision to make, I agreed. Heck, I practically pushed him into it by the end of things.

I wanted a job, and I got it. I didn't intend to be the breadwinner: I'm not built or programmed for it, and I've paid for that dearly. But I've done it, and I've earnestly tried not to complain about it too much - I'm still thankful for the job. There's just the burnout setting in that makes me feel sick of it all. I'm stuck in the position, though, why? Because he wants to finish school, and I want him to be happy.

When do I get to be happy?

But then he wanted a dog. I hate dogs. Now I REALLY hate dogs. But no, this is different...we've talked about getting a wolf hybrid for years, studied them, etc. The opportunity arose, and he took me to meet the family. I caved. We talked about it the whole way home - should we? Can we afford one? Do we really want one now? I knew...I knew, I knew, I knew that we shouldn't. We really couldn't afford one (oh, but we could find a way to do so...adjust our budget...make it fit!) , but I had fallen into puppy love with that pup, and rather than sleeping on it as we should have, we made an executive decision based on the tugging of heartstrings. (Good DAY I hate that word...)

I think I resent +Kyle. I feel like he dragged me away from my family. (Reality: He didn't; I agreed to go...and anyway, it's OUR family even if he barely has anything to do with them.) I feel like he's not trying hard enough to make this work. (Reality: he is again working this semester to help get some debts paid off, even though last semester he said 'never again!'...all this with 5 or so more credit hours than he had last semester.) I feel like he pushed me into getting the mutt. (Reality: We were just stupid on this one, both of us, and no one forced us to get her.) He loves that stupid dog and I can't stand her. He resents me for that. I resent her for taking my place. (Reality: she hasn't taken my place, but she's made a crowd where before there was company.) He's offered to get rid of her, but I won't do it because then he'll resent me more for getting rid of her. So there we are again... He's happy and I'm not. Maybe not happy...he wishes I liked her, but oh well...

We never talk anymore. (True: He's always at school, I'm always at work, and when we're home, one of us is on the computer pretty much until bedtime.) Talking is all we had to base our relationship on from the start, and now we never do it.

Sex is still good...when I'm in the mood for it, which is maybe once a month anymore. The rest of the time, I pretty much just do it to keep him happy. This is definitely wrong. I remember being at a point where the slightest touch would get me so wet I needed to change JEANS. What happened? Half the time I'm not slick enough to even take him...even after a good tongue-lashing. Maybe it's just stress, but I think it's something more, and wish I could put my finger on it.

Everything must be tied together somehow- but how? I have all these negative feelings based on false events. When did I start remembering things differently than they happened?

I don't know. I just want things to be the way they were. I want my dreams to become real but with +Kyle there. I want to be happy for a change, instead of trying to please everyone else.

Okay, so on Thursdays it has become my tradition to do something fun with my hair. It's like a little bit of stress relief at work, and it gets smiles of genuine amusement - not deridement - from my co-workers. That little "You look adorable today" makes me feel good about myself, and lifts my spirits.

So I've got braids today, pinned up into loopy things by butterfly-decorated barrettes. The ends of the braids kinda stick out like little ponytails. Since my hair is so long, it's really cute (imo, and nearly everyone else's as well) with the mini-tails.

So I come home for lunch, and what is the first thing I hear?

"I didn't expect you to be home before I left. You look even dorkier with my contacts in. Why?"

"Because."

"...Because...why?"

"Just because."

Gosh, thanks. My "dear hubby" knows this is what I do on Thursdays. He has ribbed me about it on several occasions, but I think this was the first actual *insult*, and it cut deeply. The half dozen or so positive comments from friends at work are swept away by one stinging blow.

So he heads out the door to go to the laundromat. I took down the braids, and changed clothes (he had said something derisive about that *before* I left for work...), not expecting him to come back in. He did.

"Why'd you take them down and change?"

"Because they bother you so much. I'm tired of your negative comments."

"You've never said anything about it before."

"Well, I should have. I'm sorry I offend you so."

"Fine, be a child about it. I don't care"

Maybe my reaction is childish. I don't really care if it is. I think he's being the childish one. *shrug* Clearly he cares TOO much, if my doing something he doesn't even have to look at all day upsets him to this degree. Frankly, the whole thing makes me want to cut off most of my hair, dye it pink or something, and just go wild. He loves long hair, and dyeing it any 'unnatural' color would embarass him to no end. Mean, huh? Of course I won't do it. I like long hair, too. :PPP

What I really want to know is what has he been festering over this morning to set him off like that. He holds about a million little things in until one tiny last thing sets him off, and then he blows up...usually at me, because I'm usually the cause of that tiny last thing. Of course he apologizes later, but that doesn't undo the damage.

The scary thing is is how much *better* he's gotten since we got married. We had some dandy fights the first couple of years. Not many, but they were always big. Now we still don't have many fights, and they're usually small. Of course, we both have to be right.

I know that what I should have done is left it all in, up and on, held my head up and said, "Oh well!", but I caved. Why do I live trying to suit others? Why do their opinions matter so much to me? Why do I care what people think about me? Why is my self esteem so co-dependent? Why am I so easily shattered? Why are you still reading this?