And why I feel the way I do (I've never been really fond of either of them).
Way back when, Brian and I had season passes for the Chargers. I don't know how many of you remember the big strike when the players walked out, but it was around that time. We had them for a couple of years.
To save the headaches of the traffic, we purchased bus passes for the games and we had to be at the bus stop by a certain time or we'd miss the last bus. One Sunday, Brian had gone over to his parents' house and was helping his brother out with something, I'm not sure what it was, maybe they were trimming a tree or something like that. Anyway, I know how sidetracked Brian can be and how he loses track of time when he gets in a zone. So, I call over there to remind him that he needs to come home and get ready to go if we're going to make the bus.
Now, let me be clear on one point. I wasn't the type of girlfriend or wife who was constantly in touch with him. When we were dating I could count on my hand the number of times I called him. I figured when he had a chance, he'd call me. I was like that with all of my boyfriends, I didn't smother, I didn't pursue. Maybe some may have thought I didn't care, but I just wouldn't do it. And after we were married, I rarely called him when he was over at his parents' house (long before cellphones - but even then I wouldn't call him at work unless it was an emergency). I figured he had a reason to be there and I knew he'd be home when he was done with whatever. But this Sunday, there was a time constraint.
Well, Mark answered the phone and I asked if I could talk to Brian. And his brother said to me, in a voice full of contempt "give him a break".
I had no words. I had no response. I didn't know what to say. Seriously. He asked if I was still there, I said "yes", then I hung up. Of course, Brian got an earful when he got home.
When Mark got married, I realized Karma has a helluva sense of humor.
Then there was the Christmas dinner at his mom's house and for some reason, he started getting on my case about how many cats we have. Out of the blue, he was berating me in front of the family over how many cats we have. He didn't bring Brian into the equation, it was all me. It was another jaw dropper. Like Brian said "how have our cats affected HIS life?" We never asked for help with them, we never asked them to take care of them when we're gone, there was no obvious reason why he had said what he did. But for me, it was another brick in the wall.
When he was dating the woman who he would marry, she was here at the house one afternoon. It was just the two of us. I didn't know her well, it was a getting to know you kind of conversation I guess. She told me about having a cat who "shit all over the house" so she dumped it in a nice neighborhood.
Later in the conversation she asked me if I'd ever considered help. Help? Huh? Then it dawned on me.
She thought I needed professional mental help. I wasn't sure why, I didn't want to ask. And I didn't.
But we had strike two.
The swings and the misses just keep on coming. There have been so many over the years I could fill a book....all the times Brian's come home to tell me about her giving him hell over one thing or another, things that have absolutely nothing to do with him. Maybe some day I will.
It just leaves me shaking my head and I just try to ignore it all.
The Xanax I took this morning after Brian got home sure helped.
But for me, this stuff doesn't just disappear, it doesn't just go away. No, it sits there in my head. Like a filing cabinet. Some files I never look at again, once they're in there. But others, they just keep getting thicker and thicker and thicker....
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