The truth is ... I feel like I am insane. I can't make decisions, I can't take action. I am making decisions, I am taking action.
I didn't go to work today. I told them I had the stomach flu. Truth is it was damp and rainy and I didn't want to go and I wanted to stay at home and read some self help stuff and write and watch TV and check out of the world. I went to an Al-Anon meeting instead and changed a few lives by sharing with the group what my therapist had told me about the fact that I can't make decisions and have no idea what's real because I have no foundation. I have spent my life trying to please others. I have no idea what I want. I just want to hide the truth most of the time.
I am not responsible for my life. I don't go to work a lot of the time. I lie and say I have meetings and come home and nap or drive around and do nothing. Or I'll go in late and say I've been meeting with someone or did some work from home. The fact is I probably literally work about 20 hours a week, and get paid for 40. When I'm at the office, I often type e-mails or read e-mails or have idle, useless chat with people who don't really matter to me. They are just a diversion from actually showing up in my real life, where I have to be responsible. Right now it is 12 noon, and I haven't showered, I havent' changed out of the clothes that I wore home after I left my boyfriend's apartment this morning.
The truth is I am afraid I can't work. I was doing some job search stuff this morning and I found a couple of jobs that looked interesting in the city where my husband lives and where he thinks I am moving at the first of April. I had posted my resume on the site, with the address where my husband now lives as my address, but I couldn't bring myself to push that little button that says APPLY NOW, to send it to the employers who might hire me. Likewise, I can't bring myself to look for work here where I am now either ... even though I've given my notice at my current job and know that reality is going to kick in very, very soon.
I'm married to one man and practically living with another. The 'other' man is the one who I can tell my secrets to, who listens to me and tries to understand me, who holds me when I cry, who has helped me to heal, but who is afraid to make Valentine's Day plans with me because he's afraid my husband will fuck them up, by calling or texting or doing something incredibly stupid. I can't tell him that I'm afraid that I can't work, because he's just making it financially himself. If he has me and his ex and son to take care of ... that's way too much. Besides that ... I need to be responsible for myself. But not wanting to be responsible ... wanting to hide away, is the reason I feel my husband is a safety net. If I finally decide I can't work ... he makes enough money to support us both. God, I hate being the person who is writing this. I have a lot of hate and self-loathing now.
I read something I wrote in February 2001 yesterday. That's how long my life has been so fucked up I can't imagine that I ever thought I was going to be a success.
1 week ago