Every night I am here alone because we can't find a way to sleep together. Scott works long hours and is tired when he gets off work. If he comes here he usually has to leave by ten and will sometimes stretch it longer for my sake. But he can't spend the night because he just isn't comfortable here. Even when I didn't have as many cats, and the house was cleaner and less stuffed, he still couldn't get comfortable enough to spend the night. When I go to his house to spend the night, he seems equally uncomfortable, and I miss Beau.
Everything seems to revolve around his having to get high. But I'm not allowed to mention or discuss this. If I do he'll get extremely defensive and say, "That isn't the only reason why..." he needs to be home, or alone, or can't get comfortable with me around, but it is, because it's the only thing he can't do with me. I don't want to be with someone who is stoned all the time. I'm sorry if I'm offending any of my stoner pals here by saying this, because I really don't have any judgment against people getting high, in fact I think it should be legalized, but there is a big difference between getting high once in a while, which is fine, and having to get high every day, having to. Having to get stoned three times a day, while also being in denial about this, is just way too Fucking much. It's gotten so bad that his nervous system cannot handle life without it, he's even begun to call it, "The medicine." He's worked out this whole complex spiritual justification for his relationship with it, this trippy psuedo religious shamanistic and highly ritualized relationship with "the herb". He has even gone so far as to insist that I treat his relationship with pot with respect, essentially saying that if I can't respect his use of it, that I don't respect him.
Of course I should have seen all of this coming, but I was so naive. He painted this totally unfair picture of his relationship with his ex-wife Nancy. She was unreasonable and controlling. She hurt him. She called him an addict. She set limits and rules. She threatened to leave him if he wouldn't quit, and then reversed her position in order to keep him. She asked him to attend twelve step meetings, which he did, but he wasn't honest. Whatever, blech.
I just have always handled all of this in as much of a healthy Alanon sort of way as possible. Once it became clear to me how very dependent he was, and how much I didn't enjoy being with him when he was high, I just set limits for myself, boundaries that made it possible for me to be comfortable in relationship with someone who was overly dependent on a particular substance. If this is how he has to live his life in order to cope, then sadly, that's his choice, (Lord knows I've got more than my own fair share of addictions and bad habits), and I won't nag or insist he quit or get help, (and that's my version of respecting him, but he doesn't get this), now that's not saying I won't express my feelings or opinions from time to time, but I haven't said I would leave him if he didn't get into recovery or go to meetings. All I ask is that he respects my boundaries and is honest with me. All I can do is take care of myself around this because that's all anyone can do in this kind of situation, it's the healthiest approach.
At first I asked him not to get high within two to four hours of or our getting together, but he would lie and chisel at this small request, so we fought and the boundary grew to six hours which he interprets as four, and that's how it's been for years now. All I ask is that he be sober when he is with me, and that I would really like to know if he's high when we're speaking on the phone, or via IMs so that I can watch out for bizarre attacks that come from out of left field. But all of this feels unreasonable, unfair and controlling to him. He resents me and chafes at this big time. I however know with a certainty that no matter how ANYONE else feels about this, I have the perfect right to determine and set boundaries for my own peace of mind and sanity.
He didn't used to be this much of a nervous wreck, at least I don't remember him being like this before. Now it seems as if he's going to crawl out of his skin if he isn't stoned and perfectly comfortable in an environment that he controls; perfect wind on his skin -- he has to have wind on his skin -- perfect temperature, perfect light, perfect comfort to his exacting specifications. All of this just Fucking sucks.
So tonight I called him, like I usually do, and spoke to his machine. It seems like I'm always speaking to his machine. He won't pick up if he's home and awake because most of the time he's stoned and I've asked him to let me know if he's high so I can at least sort of gauge where he's coming from. But he doesn't like this. He doesn't want to have to say, "Hi Babe, Just want to let you know that I'm a bit high here," because then he'd have to look at how often he's stoned, he's have to cop to it, and he'd have to respect my need to back out delicately if I'm feeling uncomfortable. He says some pretty stupid and off the wall things when he's high. He also just doesn't track well with me or communicate well -- he isn't responsible or accountable when he's high, and he's extra super defensive and sensitive. Would you want to talk to your partner when he or she is in this condition? How would you feel if the only time you could be with your lover/partner/spouse was when he was either a.) miserable and exhausted because he hates his job and is constantly being abused by his mean bosses, b.) suffering from some unnamed and unexplainable anxiety and/or depression, or c.) stoned? Those are the three basic modes I seem to get him in, and it's damned lonely and upsetting. It sure doesn't make for an environment of sexual desire or intimacy.
When I called him tonight I assumed that he was, as usual, either high and unwilling to deal with me and my "uptight, rigid, attitude," and my "unwillingness to fully accept his true complex self," or sleeping. So I said so to his machine. I said something like, "I wish sometimes you would answer and that I would get to speak to you without your being high." I felt sad, lonely, and a little depressed. Then about an hour or so later he called me back and said, "You completely forgot that I was performing tonight," or something more pointy, because I think he was hurt that I'd missed this.
I'm sorry I missed this, I really am. I would be hurt if he wasn't aware that I was performing somewhere, but he didn't even mention this to me in person, he sent it to me in a e-mail and as everyone who knows me knows, I pretty much suck when it comes to social communication. The weird thing is that we spoke on the phone today and he made some kind of remark about my not wanting him to come over tonight. He was referring to the garlic in the overly seasoned pasta that he'd had for lunch. When he eats garlic he reeks of it, it pours out of his pores, and he farts, lovely eh? But again, this is just my being rigid and uptight. I'm an unnatural uptight anally repressed bitch, and he's just a natural normal guy.
But we were okay, we were getting along. I was patiently listening to him tell me all about his night. I didn't feel the need to talk about myself. I was just listening to him complain about performing, as usual, and then he was telling me a story about a man who had been angry with him for blocking his driveway, I was interested. I was definitely listening when suddenly Beau, who had been in my bathroom, walked quickly through the room and said, "Goodnight Mom," as he was closing the bedroom door. So naturally I said, "Goodnight sweetheart." As soon as I did this Scott's conversation stuttered to a complete halt and everything went to hell in a hand basket from there. He simply wasn't capable of hanging on for that second it took to say goodnight to my son and then going back to the conversation without chiding me for it. He wasn't willing to allow me to say a quick goodnight to my son, without first getting his permission, and his totally unreasonable demanding pettiness was showing.
I said, "It's okay honey, I just needed to say goodnight to Beau, go on" but he couldn't let it go at that. He said, "You startled me." Startled him? Oh puhlease! Then he wanted me to be kind and gentle and validate his wounded feelings. He needed me to say, "Oh honey I'm so sorry I interrupted you, I'll do...whatever...next time." But there was no whatever. I couldn't have said, "Hold on Beau, I need to tell Scott that I am going to tell you goodnight." That would have been impossible as Beau was already halfway out the door, it was swinging shut when I said, "Goodnight sweetheart." And short of that he wanted me to say, "Oh I could see how that threw you, I'm sorry, I understand." But I don't understand, and I'm not sorry. What I am is tired of this behavior. I don't understand why a fifty-two year old man can't handle a simple thing like this without turning it into an enormous night ruining fight. Why on earth would any sane man put his woman in the position of having to choose between her child and him?
So we got into a fight. And I think he was high. And I couldn't ask him if he was or he would have freaked out. He was being totally unreasonable, spoilt and selfish. When he acts like this, so high strung and jittery that he can't even give me a second to say goodnight to my child, it makes me want to wring his neck, seriously. And I love the guy, but it's been getting worse and worse. He consistently pits himself against Beau, which is a huge mistake for any man to do to a mother who loves her child. It makes him seem so small and unattractive, certainly not the hero man I need or want him to be, or even just the average guy I'm happy to put up with when he's not at his best because I love him. I care about his feelings, I do, but not when they are petty and unreasonable.
Do I seem like a bitch? Am I being an uptight, intolerant, neurotic, DEA loving control freak? I'm just so disappointed and hurt and tired of these fights we have where he behaves so unreasonably -- fights where he gets so huffy and stuck and then apologizes the next day. I don't know if I can trust his apologies any more. I don't know if he loves me any more or if he ever really did. Did he love me or the way I loved him? Maybe he is only capable of loving someone who is totally devoted to and focused on him. Maybe this is why he never had children, and why in all the years I have known him he has never had so much as a single pet. He has one little goldfish, and to his credit he has kept it alive ten times longer than anyone thought it would live, but I forced it on him because I would have gone mad if he didn't have at least one living thing in his dusty resin coated home.
I sometimes think I'm just an old shoe to him, an old shoe he wishes were a sexy high heel, someone who was once more vital and sexual, someone without needs, complications, or health problems, a woman who suited his needs because I flattered him and paid more attention, but who in the real world is really more of a fed up friend than a lover. He doesn't get that I need to feel appreciated, turned on, safe, cared for, and attracted to him, in order to want him. He has to love my child in order for me to love him. It's a requirement. And yet he constantly expects Beau to take care of his emotional needs, and in the absence of Beau's fifteen year old inability to do this, he has backed way off and created this distance between them. I feel sorry for Beau who is tired of being rebuffed and pushed away whenever Scott comes over and who sees how often Scott and I argue and doesn't like to see his Mother cry. Scott has almost missed the boat as much as Robby has in being a Dad to Beau. I can get him to come to important events, and he will talk to me about Beau and give me advice, he gives Beau presents, but he expects heaps of praise in return. It's always about him and underneath it all there is this terrible sense of competition, this unspoken greed for my total attention, and I hate it. I have no idea why he is so backwards when it comes to parenting. He wants to be treated like a step parent. He wants to be respected. He wants Beau to love him. Like I said, it's always about him.
And sex, well despite my bladder troubles that have recently gotten in the way, sex just isn't a come-on-over-and-let's-bang kind of thing for me, (although it can be sometimes), and it definitely isn't for him either. If it were it would actually be easier because I could give him that just to make him happy, but he needs the whole package without realizing that there's a whole other package that I'm not getting. He wants me to be ready and waiting for him. He wants romance and passion and complete focus on him, and I understand that, but we don't live in a Love Scott vacuum. Where are all of the things I need from him, the things I need in order to want to make love to him? Competing for attention with my child is not one of them. Being unable to spend a night with me without crawling up a wall is not one of them. Being depressed and angry all the time -- not one of them. Having to be stoned almost all of the time, again, not one of them. I could go on, and to be fair, so could he, but he's the jerk who left me upset and hanging tonight with nowhere to go but here.
I miss being married and having someone to love and snuggle with every night. In this one respect I miss the life I had with Robby. I don't know if I'll ever have this with Scott. He certainly can't sleep here, and he doesn't seem to want me to sleep there. He wants me to come over for a predefined time, to be with him utterly, but within a window of time that allows him to escape at the end and light up his pipe. I am just so utterly disappointed in him and in my life. This life, the life I am leading, is so very, very different from the life I imagined and wanted for myself, and I feel completely stuck. It all feels fake.
By tomorrow I'll be over this. We'll probably work this out as soon as we speak, but right now I am really pissed off. He'll tell me he's sorry, but I doubt he'll really mean it. What he'll mean is, "I'm sorry I've been upset all night and day over this because I've been worried that you're mad at me." He doesn't really care that I'm sitting here feeling torn up, because if he did he wouldn't have left me like this. He wouldn't constantly do this; pick fights over nothing, get prickly and then flee, if he knew what it did to me. He'd get the help he needs to deal with his fragile nervous system and not impose his own unfair neurotic impulses on me.
I often think he apologizes to me because he's worried I'll leave him, or at least ignore him for a few days, and he realizes how terribly lonely he'd be without me. I'm really his only friend, and he doesn't have any family, which is super sad, but I know for certain that there is absoFuckinglutely nothing wrong with stopping a phone conversation to say, "Goodnight Sweetheart," to your son. And I shouldn't ever feel as if I have to apologize for this. Anyone who really loves me would know this.
Sad weary hugs,