October 10, 2010 § Leave a comment
Q: I feel… I feel what? Sick? Mentally sick? Gutted? Annoyed? Totally ripped off? Dumb, moronic and just plain stupid?
A: All of the above.
I just had her in my house. In my house – which I no longer live in, which I no longer co-lease. I feel sick with how stupid and ridiculous this must appear, but there’s just no hiding this disdain. I wonder if she has been in here before without me knowing. I feel this epic… devastation at the idea of her having been in my house. I am lost for speech – obviously not words though.
Adam is a bloke, I get this. I also get that blokes will never, ever fully appreciate how a woman feels about anything like this. And I get that Adam is trying desperately to do the right thing by everyone.
TANDEM: Actually, I’m pretty sure she just straight out walked into my house. Adam was still coming down the stairs to greet them when I heard voices inside my house.
Anyway. Ignoring that and pretending like Adam invited her into our home, like I said, Adam obviously didn’t want to be “rude” by keeping her outside and he obviously didn’t think it would be a problem for me in the slightest seeing that I don’t live here anymore – which is, I’d just like to point out, what any other semi-reasonable, mostly sane person would think.
Enter the totally unreasonable, mostly INsane girlfriend who decides she’s just had her heart broken by having her partner’s wife walk into her house.
We were both unforgivably rude to each other. No eye contact, no exchange of words. My excuse for this is that I was so shocked to see her in my house, in MY house, that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I also couldn’t believe that she had come into my house and was unable to overlook the fact that I was being rude to her by saying “hello” to me herself, or even looking at me. She totally ignored not only the fact that she was in my house, but also my physical presence.
Adam is going to think this is all ridiculous, as I’m sure he thinks about most of my ex-wife complaints. This particular one is even more justified because, well, it’s justified. It’s NOT my house anymore – I LEFT, I moved out! Yet still the thought of her being in here makes me feel ill. Here, in this home that I chose, that I picked hand-in-hand with my partner; this home which I created for my family, for us; in this home which I have worked for, worked in (and then left). In this home that was once the only safe place for me in the world, my true sanctuary, the only place that I could feel loved and safe and that was mine and ours and no one else’s – now she has been here and it feels like all of those things about this place have been overlooked and dismissed like I was just now. Apparently none of those things were important to anyone but me.
I grudgingly talked to Adam about my ex-wife gripes last night while we laid on the couch at my actual house (not this one). I complained and he listened and afterwards I no longer felt like my insides were slowly being eaten by themselves like acid carving into flesh. I instead felt sheepish, bashful, ashamed and ridiculous. The irony!!! If I suck it up, I make myself physically ill – my stomach hurts and I get this constant bubble of anxiety in my throat (actually called globus hystericus). If I let it out, then I feel like a total ridiculous moron with unfounded concerns and insecurities larger than this damn house which used to be mine. My dislike for his ex-wife is of epic proportion and not just because of my instinctual and unveiled biased towards her, but also because I just plain don’t like her.
I feel stuck and the only solution that I can think of is to remove myself all together from this horrid situation which has and continues to cause me so much emotional grief and turmoil. But, I also stubbornly refuse to give up the man that I love and adore just because I don’t like the color of the luggage that he brought with him.
I just wish he’d left it cooling its heels on the nice doormat outside the front door that I bought from Bunnings, instead of wheeling it down the stairs to sit smugly in my kitchen…