Tear Therapy

I debated whether or not I should write tonight, then decided that if I would have written in the journal, I can write now. I was worried that blabbering at midnight with the better half of a bottle of shiraz under my belt wouldn't be appropriate - but you know what? I guess this is my life. I loved your entry (and thank you for writing) about pick me (I wish!) and then the weeping over LWI. In fact, that is the book I picked up, over The Condition -which I didn't realize was hardback and $14.99 - what a cheapass I am. Still, now I know I'm going to cry, which might not be a bad thing right about now. A little tear therapy couldn't hurt.

Hmmm...tear therapy. Haven't I cried enough these past couple of weeks?
Sidenote: for the past year and a half or so, I have not been able to cry due to the meds I was on. Lexapro is some kind of duller, I think, because I never cried. In fact, in moments when I wanted to - even felt it welling up behind my eyes - it never actually happened. As soon as I was off that and onto some new crazy pills, I was able to cry again. That's good, I think. I missed crying. Not that it worried me, I was immediately able to connect it with the meds. Just sometimes, I really wanted to.
Anyway, I almost cried more than once today, which may be an indication that I'm swinging in the other direction again, where I can't stop and it's pretty much all I do. It started at lunch when I called J to see if wanted to meet me at the deli. He did, and we had a nice conversation for 40 minutes or so (even if he's constantly looking around the room and visibly concentrating on paying attention to me, exhibiting every sign of boredom there is, short of falling asleep). Then I brought up the topic of me going back to work, or staying home, or whatever. Here's the thing, B. Here's what I want. I want to have a two-way conversation about this, where we both talk about what's best for us, and what's best for our kids. Instead, what he tells me is this: "You need to figure out what it is that you want to do, and then I'll work around that." What the f** is that?? He says "I don't have a personal need to stay home with M, but if you do and you think that's important, then do it. We'll figure out the financial stuff later." Whatever happened to raising kids together and making decisions like this together? Raising our children has become a me vs. you situation - only we never come together to compromise. I don't want to figure it out then have him "work around it". What kind of bs is that?
Later this evening, during dinner, I was asking JJ what he and his buddies had been doing all day. Before I could even finish my sentence, J butted in with "Don't forget to eat the vegetables too." While I, too, worry that JJ eats nothing but carbs and often remind him to finish the traces of nutrients on his plate, I don't see a need to do it in the middle of someone else's conversation. Here's the message I hear: What you are saying is not important enough for me (or anyone else) to listen to. What I have to say is far more important and therefore worth interrupting you. Not to mention, why is it that the only conversation he has with JJ at the table has to do with table manners?
Later still, T came over to have a beer and say goodbye before we all leave for our respective trips. (This is where the 3/4 bottle of shiraz comes in). I try to keep up with their conversation, even though I know I'm not quick and often don't get whatever joke goes between them. I try to add intelligent insight when I can. But I always feel like J shoots me down; there's always this "yes, you're right, BUT..." and then some reason why I'm wrong, or don't know what I'm talking about, or don't have my facts straight or whatever. In the end, T left and I sat down to sew some buttons on pants that J asked me to do. I could hear him upstairs, putting JJ to bed, and yelling at him for something. When he came down, I asked him. He said he wasn't yelling (he was) and I tried to stay calm and reasonable, just trying to tell him what he sounded like and how JJ might have felt. He just gets all defensive and shuts down (because we dare not parent together, or take guidance from each other, or work as a team. I do my thing, you do yours. The kids will figure it out, I guess.) Earlier, when T was here, he made some jab at me about how I wouldn't check to see that JJ had packed everything he needed for the trip. I just looked at him, like are you kidding me? Where the f*** have you been for the past 15 days? How the f*** do you think these kids ate or slept or did anything at all really, except for me taking care of them? Where have you been? You come home and ignore them except to tell them to clean up, or eat properly. You have no earthly idea what these kids need, nor do you really care. Yet, in the end, you'll make some crack about how I won't handle it right. Wow. I was really taken aback by that. And for once, instead of beating myself up about how he's right, I'm not good enough, I just got f***ng pissed.
So here I am , after midnight, click-click-clicking away on the keyboard with a growing headache and stewing anger. That should make for a great night's sleep and a lovely beginning to our vacation tomorrow.
B, I wish I could simply take all your good wishes and go with it, say thanks and put a smile on my face and skip off into the blue. But I can't. I'm so hurt and angry right now; but that's not a bad thing in its entirety - usually I am hurt and angry and quite busy convincing myself that I'm a loser. Tonight I stopped before I got that far. Progress. Baby steps.
Thanks for listening...love you,
A