Must We Be So Toxic?

As I believe I’ve mentioned before, I have very few close friends.  Most of my closest friends live hours away, across the state or across the country.  The couple close friends I have in town are troubled at best.  I have been friends with both since junior high or high school, and they honestly couldn’t be more different.

R is a married mother of two young girls.  She is exceedingly thin (wears a size 2 on her fat days), and is rather aloof in life.  She is an unhealthy couch potato, often watching life pass her by.  She is chronically late, sometimes by more than an hour, and rarely apologizes for her tardiness.  If I had to guess, she is depressed and totally in denial over it.  Ironically, I’m one person in her life that wouldn’t judge her and would love to help; I’m clinically depressed too and have sought help for it successfully.   Oh, and she thinks little boys are inherently bad – have I mentioned I have a son?

Then there is the issue of religion.  I am agnostic, she is Catholic and applies it strictly to her life (no birth control besides family planning, strict on Lent practices, etc.).  There isn’t anything wrong with that, and I’m all for people believing in things beyond themselves, but she uses her “Catholic guilt” to determine where her life is headed (i.e., more kids when she can barely handle the two she has) and it bothers me a bit.  Also, she once told me that she was sad that she wasn’t going to see me in heaven … which, to me, says that I’m going straight to hell in her book.  I don’t particularly care for being told that.

M, on the other hand, probably weighs about 350 pounds.  She is plagued by depression (or bipolar disorder, not sure which these days) and seems mired in high school life.  She was married but got divorced after about three years.  Her life is full of drama, and she feels everyone should be sympathetic to her plight.  She was recently fired from her job for missing too much time due to health reasons and is now collecting unemployment.  With said unemployment, she is hoping to have gastric bypass surgery, though her therapist won’t sign off on it – most likely because she is an emotional eater at the very least.

Then there is the issue of her religion.  She’s Mormon; she used to practice it strictly, chastising me when she thought I was having sex with my high school boyfriend (I wasn’t), staying away from caffeine, alcohol, etc., and spent all of Sunday reflecting on God and her religion.  Now?  She has had TONS of sex outside of marriage, drinks caffeine and alcohol, does whatever she wants on Sunday, cheated on her husband, etc.  I don’t have a problem with this, except I probably still have a chip on my shoulder from when she would go all holier-than-thou on me in high school.  I guess the whole thing seems kind of hypocritical to me.

Clearly everyone has their flaws; everyone is entitled to them and everyone struggles with them daily.  I, too, have flaws out the ying yang.  The thing is, I have a tendency to choose these friends who use me for my general kindness and even-keeled nature (I doubt you’d think that about me from just reading this blog, but I actually am quite mild-mannered and kind … I swear).  R takes advantage of the fact that I’ll put up with her tardiness shit and the fact that she doesn’t ever want to get too involved in my life.  M takes advantage of the fact that I am a good sounding board; she just now called me to bitch about her sister, barely asked me about my life, and got off the phone when she felt better.  I felt worse and more frustrated.  Neither friend can just give of themselves and be there for me when I need it; they embrace their fair-weatheredness like a beloved blanket.  They are toxic, and I would love to break free of their hold (M more so than R – at least R is relatively drama-free) but right now they’re all I’ve got.

Am I alone in this?  Does everyone have at least one toxic friend?  Or are we all a little toxic in some way?

Jealous of a Fictional Character (Office Spoiler)

Anyone out there fans of The Office?  I am.  I love it!  And Jim and Pam?  Can’t get enough of them!  So you can imagine my excitement over last night’s episode (for those of you who don’t watch, Jim and Pam finally had their baby).

I loved the episode; it was hilarious, touching, and true-to-life (as far as Jim and Pam’s storyline went, anyway).  But a lot of it felt bittersweet to me.  I watched as Jim and Pam went through the excitement of labor, all the emotions swirling around them like a whirlpool, and I had a little ache in my heart that I won’t get to go through that.

See, I had a last-minute-scheduled c-section with my first kiddo, and our hospital doesn’t allow vaginal births after cesarean sections (VBAC) so I have to have another c-section this time.  I could have switched doctors and gone to the hospital in town that allows VBACs, but I love my doctor and it wouldn’t be the same without her.  So I’m stuck with a scheduled c-section, and I can’t say I’m overly happy about it.

I know giving birth is difficult; my mom regales me of stories of 29 hours of labor and this and that.  My sister-in-law has had to be virtually stitched back together after each of her births.  So I know … I get it.  But it doesn’t make me want to try any less.  I want that feeling of excitement that something amazing is about to happen, something that I can help along.  It feels almost like a rite of passage into motherhood that I’m being cheated out of.  You hear stories of women who just barely made it to the hospital or who went through 19 hours of labor (like Pam), and it’s always filled with emotion and at least a tinge of excitement.

My story?  I waddled into the hospital, had a spinal block put in, they cut me open and pulled the kiddo out.  Ta da.  Then I spent the next few hours throwing up and dry heaving from the anesthetic, in and out of a drugged slumber, barely able to hold a conversation with anyone, relegated to my bed having never touched, felt, held my baby.  You can see why I’m not thrilled to do this all over again.

So there’s that.  And then there’s the Jim part of it.  The part where the husband is in awe of what his wife is doing, is able to do with her strength.  Call me crazy, call me self-centered, but I’d like a little awe and wonderment of me for once.  Yeah, I grew the kid, I’ll nurse him/her for a year or so, I’ll be up at all hours of the night like clockwork.  But I know my husband well enough to know that it’s basically my job to do that.  Yeah, I’ll get props here and there, thank yous that will make me feel almost guilty for doing what I’m supposed to do as a parent.  But for once I’d like to know that my efforts make him adore me even more.  (Hell, I’d like to just feel adored at all.)  And maybe it’s sensationalized by television shows (and my brother-in-law, who can’t seem to say enough good things about his wife), but it always seems like I see men just in awe of the women who actually go through labor.  Sue me … I want that.

So today, I am jealous of a fictional character, her fake birth, her awesomely loving fake husband, and her whole fake experience.  Not my proudest moment, but that’s what it is.

I Hate The Olympics (So Glad They’re Over!)

Yeah, I hate the Olympics.  I said it … sue me.  I know it’s unpatriotic or something to hate the Olympics, but my reasons are purely personal.  Truth be told, I used to LOVE them with a passion; even back when I was a kid my sister and I used to revolve our play around which sports we were into watching and who was hot at the time.

But not now.  My husband has killed that.  You see, he basically has an affair with the Olympics every two years.  Summer or winter, the man is hooked.  At one of his previous jobs, he came home talking more about the Olympics and what was going on with them than he would about work.  He still checks the stats and schedules compulsively, ever-careful not to see any results that  might be broadcast later in the evening.  We rarely see the commercials because he is busy flitting from station to station watching different events.  And, in spite of the multi-station coverage, he constantly waxes rhapsodic about the days when he could watch the Olympics non-stop because our university had a Canadian station that had excellent coverage any time of the day.  Most of my conversations with him while the Olympics are on take place with the back of his head; he barely breaks his eyes away from the television to notice anyone else.  And sex … HA!  We’ve been in a drought since the damn event started.

So, needless to say, I am thrilled that the Olympics are over.  Hubby even showed a glimpse of helpfulness before the closing ceremonies (which he didn’t bother watching – too much artistry, not enough sports) by dusting around the kitchen.  There is hope yet.

Oh!  And he left me a super sweet note on the bathroom counter.  I shouldn’t forget to mention that since it’s the first time in a LONG time that he’s done anything spontaneously thoughtful.  Go hubby!  You deserve a gold medal for that one.

Vacation for Five … Seriously?

My parents, sister, and in-laws have all decided to go on vacation at the exact same time (not together, of course, since one side can’t stand the other), just three and a half weeks before my scheduled c-section.  They claim they all want to be rested up to help with the baby, and this was good timing for all.

Well, not for me.

(Yes, I know that is selfish of me to say, but this is my blog, I’m pregnant and hormonal, and I don’t take this liberty very often.)

As the weeks have been ticking by, I have been getting increasingly tired, my body has been ramping up the weight gain (with a speed unmatched by most women – during my last pregnancy I gained 20 pounds in the last month alone, mostly water weight), my already-born kiddo is becoming increasingly active, and my to-do list keeps getting longer in spite of my husband’s “help”.  Oh, and have I mentioned I get to wear ill-fitting, sausage-casing-like, maternity compression hose from here on out?  So I get to be uncomfortable and extra-sweaty, too.

Apparently these people in my life think that I don’t need them, but I do.  I am desperate for help right now.  I asked the hubby to clean the window sills because we had an excess of mold on them (yes, disgusting, I know) and after he proclaimed them clean and told me to cross them off the list I did a cursory check of them and found all the mold still there.  WHAT THE FUCK?!  How exactly is this CLEAN?!

So, clearly, his help is infuriating at best.

Then there’s the mother-in-law, who likes to come over once a week to get my kiddo ready in the morning so it won’t be such a shock when she’s there after kiddo two arrives.  But if her leaving messes for me to clean up is what I have to get used to, all the while listening to her bitch and moan about one thing or another (quite often about my brother- and sister-in-law), then she can just stay the fuck home.

Then there’s the issue of, what happens if the baby comes early?  You know, while they are all in fucking Florida?  Wouldn’t that just be ducky?  Then I’d get to rely on my brother-in-law, who my kiddo can’t stand and who drives me crazy, and a smattering of other people equally unfamiliar to my kid’s everyday life.  Great.  (The chances of this happening are slim, but it’s still possible so, of course, I worry.)

Oh, and have I mentioned that my husband, gem that he is, will be gone most of the day two days next week?  He has class one night (which he has to go to, so that’s fine), but then on another night he’s going out with some people from work to celebrate him getting a new job within the company.  (They’ll call it a “going away” party which will infuriate me to no end since he isn’t fucking going anywhere.)

I know people do this without family all the time and I know I’m exceedingly spoiled to have so much help around on a daily basis, but I honestly do need it right now.   I need help today to reclaim my sanity; our house is a total mess, disgusting from one end to the other, and I know they are all going to be busy packing and readying themselves for their respective trips.  My husband doesn’t seem to grasp that them all leaving at the same time is difficult for me and has blown my feelings off time and time again.  He leaves messes everywhere, and I have to focus on them before I can get to the sanity-saving cleaning.

I keep telling myself that I typically have it really good and that I can do this.  “Pull yourself together, you pansy!” I say.  And I get back on track for a while, only to have to do it again later.

Speaking of which … back to the grindstone.

Oh, and I’m still not getting laid with any regularity, but I’ll save that gripe for another post.

Comment Response: More About Me and This Blog

Yesterday I received this comment on my post entitled “Worth Saving … Right?”:

Hi! I saw a link to your blog through Glamour.com, and for some reason felt compelled to check it out. I’ve read a few of your posts, and although I clearly do not know you or even really grasp your situation, again felt compelled to reach out to you. I understand how you are feeling. Well, honestly, I personally don’t because I am not at all in your situation. However, I have seen countless women who are close to me that feel the exact same. It’s almost painful for me to read about your feelings of insecurity, frustration, desperation and hopelessness, because I have seen them too many times in the women that I love. That being said, and I am hesitant to even write this… Are you really trying? I mean… really? I understand that the few words that are published via this blog are probably miniscule in comparison to the thoughts that cross your mind on a daily basis, but from what I have read it seems almost as though you have given up. Again, it is not my place to even comment on your relationship, life, etc. but since you put it out there so publicly (and seem as though you are desperate for some kind of feedback) I just felt like I should share my opinion, as a completely objective observer. If you have given up on your marriage, I honestly wouldn’t blame you. I personally feel that being a wife/mother is the hardest job in the world, and one that I respect tremendously. Again though, just from what I’ve read it seems as though this blog is nothing more than a way to justify your desire to give up on the whole thing. I wouldn’t blame you for that. Just something to think about though…
All my best!
Erin

I have to admit, upon reading it I was slightly hurt by words like “desperate” and “insecure”; they stung, I am human.  But then I thought about it some more and decided that maybe reader Erin had a point; from what I’ve written on here it sounds like I’m just bitching and moaning about a relationship I’m about ready to jump ship from.

So here’s the deal.  I haven’t given up on my marriage.  In fact, I’m probably more committed to making it work than I have been in a while.  I realize this is my task in life right now (right along side being a good mom), so that’s what I’ve set out to do.  It’s been a lot of deep breaths and patience, but it’s coming along.  That said, just because I am trying doesn’t mean my husband is or that life is instantly better.

And I guess that’s what this blog is all about.  This blog is a place for me to vent my frustrations about my life.  Why don’t I just tell my friends about it and leave it at that?   I don’t have any friends I can talk to like that.  Hell, I hardly have any friends at all.  The ones nearby are so dysfunctional themselves I can’t even confide in them.  And the others live too far away and have too much going on to vent to.  So that’s why I started this blog and why I hope to continue to write on it … I just need to get all this shit off my chest so it doesn’t fester and make moving forward impossible.

On a side note, I do write another blog that is known to my family and friends.  I post pictures of the kiddo, share recipes, gripe about small things, give gift ideas around Christmas … that sort of thing.  No one actually in my life knows about this blog, and I like it that way.

Now, why do I seem so “desperate for some kind of feedback”?  Honestly, I probably am desperate for feedback.  In the lonely situation I find myself in, it’d be kinda nice to know that I’m not alone.  See, so many of the people who post on sites like Glamour.com are full of happy stories and wonderful romances.  Or at least that’s what they make their lives out to be, and honestly it makes me feel a little sad and lonely.  And, I imagine that I’m not alone in this; with the divorce rate as high as it is in this country I don’t think it is too far-fetched to imagine that there are lots of unhappy women and men out there who feel alone, too.  So I post my blog site on Glamour.com whenever I comment because I could stand to feel less alone, and there might be someone else out there who feels alone too, who wants to know that not everything in life is sunshine and rainbows.

In short, I am trying to save this marriage, to turn it around to something better.  I am trying to make this marriage work and make my husband and I as happy as possible.  Some days are easy; some days are more difficult than I can express.  The more I have to work at it, though, the less time I have to write.  And, quite frankly, I don’t get the chance to write as much as I’d like because I have to find alone time to do it.  (Right now I’m ignoring the chicken on the counter that needs to be dismantled for dinner so I can write this and keep my sanity.)

In the end, thank you to Erin for writing such a heartfelt, honest comment.  It made me think, and I believe it was good to challenge my assertion that I am trying because it helped me clarify why I write on here.

So thank you.  Have a wonderful day!

Vanilla

I used to think my husband and I were perfectly sexually compatible.  During college we’d go for an entire week without seeing each other (during the first couple years at least … we went to different colleges), then we’d spend the whole weekend together fucking as much as we possibly could.  Once we even had sex while I read for a class.  It was always good and always enough.

Now, however, we live together, sleep next to one another, and have sex the same way just about every time.  I offer out doing different things, trying new positions or new locations around the house, but he still wants to do it the same way every time.  I’ve dressed up, taken control, put  myself out there, and I get vanilla sex every time.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s usually very good.  When we don’t have any issues to overcome, I get off every time without fail, usually more than once.  When he doesn’t have to try hard, vanilla generally works.

But right now, we have tons of issues to overcome (self-esteem issues, body issues, technical difficulties, logistical problems … all stemming from pregnancy) and I need him to be anything but vanilla.  I need a variety of flavors to make this work.  I need a little effort on his half so I can power through the voices in my head telling me I’m fat and ugly, so I can muster the physical strength I need to move more nimbly, so I can feel sexy in my head, not just my loins.

I’ve asked him what he wants, told him I’d do anything except anal, anywhere in the house not occupied by a child, and I get the same thing every time.  I’m totally jealous of this girl who gets to do it 77 different ways in 77 days.  Now, I couldn’t even do all 77 because of my current condition, but even under normal circumstances I don’t think my husband would be up for it.  And, no matter what, we’d always end up finishing in the missionary position.

It’s always back to vanilla.

And, the thing is, vanilla has worked well over the years.  There is a reason he likes it so much.  But right now it isn’t working, and as much as I try to illustrate that to him it’s not getting through.  And maybe it’s not just the pregnancy difficulties either; maybe I’ve just had enough of vanilla for now.  I need some excitement.  I need to feel desired.  Like really desired.

I’ll admit, I’ve been looking on the personals on Craigslist recently and there are actually guys out there who just want to have sex with a pregnant woman.  They want a pregnant woman.  I would never respond to any of them, partially out of fear that they just want to feel my child move while we’re doing things, and mostly because I could never cheat on my husband like that.  But I want him to want me that way.  To see me as an object of desire, not just a vessel for life that grows bigger and bigger by the second.  But so far, the desire is most decidedly flagging.

I just don’t know if I’ll ever get another flavor.  What if vanilla is all I get from here on out?

Just Enough

(I need to vent.  I realize I can’t do anything about this, but I have to get my frustration off my chest.)

My husband is a good guy.  I love him.  But he is lazy.  He does just enough to keep himself out of trouble in nearly every avenue of his life.

He has let me know that he isn’t really interested in getting into upper management at work because it could take time away from our family life.  But then when he is home, he watches television and plays video games, often ignoring or only putting in half-effort with me and our kiddo.  When we visit family, mine or his, he often will hop on their computer or read one of their magazines.  He generally doesn’t pick up after himself until it has built up enough that either I’m agitated or he’s disgusted (this could take a while).

With “us”, he gets even more lazy.  I think now that we’re married, he feels like he doesn’t even have to try.  The last time (and THE ONLY time this pregnancy – without some sort of prompting) he told me I was beautiful was right after I gave him head.  Seriously?  THAT’S when you’re going to tell me I’m beautiful?  Thanks.  Now that we have to use extra lubrication during sex, he seems to think he doesn’t have to bother getting me aroused, or that the most minimal effort will do.  And before all this horny-ness was brought out into the open, I was lucky to get a peck on the cheek or FOREHEAD once a day.  (Who kisses their wife on the forehead unless she’s sick?)  And during a lot of our dates we end up cruising for snacks for him at his favorite warehouse super store – sometimes we even eat there on the cheap.

He can be romantic; he was on occasion when we were dating.  He can be proactive and motivated, but usually only after I’ve had enough.  We even went to marital counseling, and though he seemed like he had changed at the time he reverted back to “just enough” after he was off the hook.

Like I said, I love him.  I really do.  Some days it’s harder than others to see it and feel it truly, but I do.  The thing is, I’d like to feel like I’m worth more than “just enough”.  I’d like him to make me feel like I was worth the extra mile … or ten.  With my recent re-dedication to our marriage and sex life, I’ve been trying to make him feel that way.  I know he doesn’t know about my attempt at extra effort, but shouldn’t he just want to do this anyway?  The part of me filled with self-doubt wonders if I am, in fact, worth the extra work.  But then I remind myself that most, if not all, people deserve to feel special, like they are worth the time and effort.  So I am worth it.

But for now, I will have to settle for just enough.

Pregnancy Positions?

Well, I finally got the husband to realize I needed a little action, and we have been going at it with some regularity for the past few days.  That said, things are still frustrating … just in a whole new way.

My husband wants to look at my face while we are having sex, but he tends to prefer the missionary position and that just isn’t overly comfortable for me right now (in that I can’t breathe well while laying on my back).  Doggie style is out because he can’t see my face, as are other “backside” positions.  That leaves us with me on top, but my husband seems to want more control than that (and it’s not as enjoyable for me for some reason).

We have been trying a modified missionary, if you will; I lay on my side then put one leg in the air, he straddles the other leg and enters me, then I put the airborne leg on his leg.  It works okay but for a few problems.  One, I feel like a pretzel.  Two, I need a pillow under my head and another under my belly for support.  And three, the bottom hip can quickly descend into excruciating pain if I am not careful with where I place the upper leg.

So, I need a little help.  Anybody have any suggestions for face-to-face, late-term pregnancy sex positions?  Things are getting kinda routine, and with my libido in its current state I’m craving anything but routine.

My Secret Valentine’s Day Gift

Unbeknownst to him, I am giving my husband a promise for Valentine’s Day this year.  Actually, I am regifting a promise; I am looking back at the vows I wrote to him for our wedding day, and I’ve decided to rededicate myself to them.  After all, I promised him I would do these things, these very important things.

I, ______, take you, _______, to be my wedded husband.
I promise to be true to you, to trust you and respect you all the days of our lives.
I promise to appreciate you for the wonderful person you are and to never take you for granted.
______, I promise to never stop loving you.
I promise to be your best friend, as you have been mine for the past six years.
I will be here to support you through all your endeavors.
I will love you and share my life with you through whatever the future holds as long as we both shall live.
From now on, you will always have a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, a partner to dance with, a warm smile to come home to, and arms ready and willing to hug you.
I look forward to falling in love with you again and again, everyday of our lives.

Important stuff, I tell you.  And I promised him all these things “through whatever the future holds.” That includes if he craps out on his end of the deal.  It’s my responsibility to hold up my end of the bargain, to be there and do the things I said I was going to do.  Falling in love with someone is out of anyone’s control, so that I will give myself a break on; but I need to rededicate myself to supporting, appreciating, and just generally loving my husband.  In fact, I’ve decided to not reread his vows to me; right now they don’t matter and will only set me back should I find he hasn’t followed through (which is what I know I’d find).  I can only focus on me and how I follow through with my promises.

You see, I take promises very seriously.  If I say I promise something, I will do whatever I can to fulfill that promise, be it momentary or life-long.  It’s a tough thing to forge ahead with such an endeavor, knowing that I might get nothing in return for days, weeks, years, or a lifetime; I know full well that I may have to satisfy some of my own needs and use this blog to vent and take care of myself mentally and emotionally.  And I’m okay with that.  I’ve decided to be okay with that.

We’ll see how this goes.

Comment Response Post

H -
Thank you so much for your comment.  We have tried marital counseling through a secular therapist, and though it worked for a while we soon slipped back into our old ways.  I’ve decided to just use what I’d learned about my husband in our premarital and marital counseling (his needs, pet peeves, etc.) and do my best to be what he needs me to be, in hopes that he’ll follow suit.  I’ve tried telling him what I need (both explicitly and through tireless hinting) and nothing seems to work.  So we’ll see.

Regardless, I plan on staying with him.  He’s not a bad man; he doesn’t hit me or abuse me or treat me poorly.  He loves our kid (as well as our bun in the oven) and I can’t just divorce him without thinking of them and how much they need him.  Do I feel lonely?  Yes, almost constantly.  Is that the best way to be in a marriage?  Hell, no.  But it’s what I’ve got right now.  As long as I can say that I’m trying my best, I guess I can live with it.

Thanks again for your comment!  Hope you continue to read and converse!

Alicia -
Yes, you are a masochist for homeschooling, but kudos to you.  My husband and I have already (firmly) decided on sending our kids to public school, so that’s not an issue for us in the future.

Thanks for commenting and for making me feel not quite so alone, not quite so crazy!

Roxy -
Thank you for both of your comments!  (And thank you for quoting Ludacris … that made me smile.)  The whole “Madonna/Whore” thing is a bitch, and as much as I try to overcome it, it is a daily struggle and something I’m not sure how to reconcile within myself.

I have tried the direct route with my husband.  I got fed up waiting for him to do anything, so I took action.  Early in the day I explicitly told him I was horny as hell, had been masturbating during naptime, and just wanted to screw.  He took the “hint”, and we had a quickie right then.  Later in the evening, I took control again and gave him everything I thought he could possibly want (and that I could physically give to him in my present state).  I felt sexy, but it was like pulling teeth to get him to get into it and tell me what he wanted and he didn’t bother to do much for me.  Since then we have had sex once and it was awkward, to say the least.  He has barely even kissed me, like really kissed me, and I don’t know what else to do.  Like I mentioned to H, I am trying to rekindle our marriage (not just our sex life) so hopefully those will go hand-in-hand.

We’ll see.

Thank you so much to all three of you for your comments and for reading!  You guys made my day, and I hope you continue to read (and maybe even enjoy) this blog.