“You don’t settle. No one should have to, and you deserve so much more than this.”
Words I would throw out easily to any friend that I cared about. Anyone facing a spouse or other who was backing them into a low-self-esteem corner. Yet I haven’t done it for myself.
Why? Why have I sat here for years waiting for him to get it? To take responsibility for his actions, regardless of other people’s, the elements, fate? To just wake up one day and say, “Holy shit. I’m missing out on so much and I owe myself more than this.”
So much time, sleep, hate, energy, advice, time, money, trust – all lost. And for what? To ultimately scare me further away from people that I could trust? Hell to the no.
I’ve given money and advice, an ear and a resting place, sex and more sex, and eventually, my heart. I’ve lost babies upon babies – blood, sweat, tears – and I’ve mostly done it alone, as well as raising the baby I didn’t lose. And he still doesn’t get it.
I’ve kept waiting around for his vision to crystallize, thinking that since I realized it was love I felt, not just angst, hate and bitterness (with a pinch of resentment), that it would turn his head away from, well, his continual blindness. But no.
And I would never let a friend do this wordlessly. Watch her get disappointed over and over, regardless of the lines she threw out in his direction – the ‘you fucking loser’s, the ‘all you ever do is fuck up’s, the ‘do you really want your daughter to see you as this kind of person? To think that drinking was more important to you than her? Cuz that’s the myth you’re propegating’s. Regardless of her (what might be viewable as abusive) words, I would still tell her that she deserved more. Everything. Anything. That she should find it and get it and hold it close and light a fire of happiness with it.
But I haven’t been a friend to myself. I’ve thought I deserved it, because of those words I’ve thrown out. Because of the coldness and calculation I exacted with him. And it has burned me deeper than possibly the daddy issues have. Which is some 56th degree burns, let me tell you.
Here’s the deal. I’ve been asked out…I guess, what? Five times in the past four months. Which is not too bad for a single mom who tends to sheath herself in whatever’s clean, wear four day old makeup, a week old ponytail and pretty much hangs (with her kid) at Starbucks, the bookstore and the grocery store. I think. I have virtually no social life outside of the Internet, it’s true, and limited daycare in my grasp at the moment. So, what was my reaction? I said no, thank you.
Why? Cuz it’s like I was tethered to this person, to JDawg. To the possibilities. Potential.
Cuz after years of being his whore, and the years before of being other people’s, I found it hard to think that any man (or boy) might pay me attention that wasn’t to do with wanting to bend me over a chair and then put out when I came onto them again. (Because you do know that sex=self esteem, right?)
Also, I didn’t have a babysitter, even if I wanted to put some effort into myself and meeting someone and actually going on a date (I’ve been on two. In 16 years. Heh.) and being outside without a laptop or errand to be run. So, I said no. Because I knew that if I said yes, it would hurt him and that would hurt Us. Which would hurt Me.
Thing is. There really isn’t an Us, anymore, is there? There’s some on again, off again feelings. He will occasionally tell me he loves me (generally not sober) and I will always show him some form of my own love, but there’s no Us without his Me. And my Me isn’t settling anymore.
So. Resolution #3 – Give myself advice in the ways and wiles and winks of men, like I would any friend.
Tell myself to go for it, if I think I should. Tell myself to step away, when the hurting is to be had. Mostly, tell myself that I am worth more than waiting to find out what I’m worth to someone else. Write it on a mirror, white-board, underneath the little pink bow on my underwear, if I need to. I am deserving of something more than nothing.
