Thank you everyone for all the music suggestions. I've got them all stashed and saved and hopefully I can put them to use. Once I , you know, join the 21st century and actually get an IPOD. Ahem.
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Things are sucking a big one around here right now.
...Or rather,'still sucking a big one'.
OK fine. There was a brief letup in the sucking, but then it started again, is what I'm trying to say. I'm going to tie up a couple of loose ends, whine about my life for a few paragraphs, and then go someplace and sulk for awhile. Who knows at this point.
Loose end one: The people next door had been raising rats to sell, except they never sold them. Instead they took all the doors off the rooms up on the third floor, left the sink and the bathtub running and hove a bag of Purina Rat chow across the floor once every couple of days. The rats quickly overran the entire house and property, coming and going freely through holes they'd chewed through the walls. Wild Norway rats soon joined them, and were welcomed inside and eventually hand tamed just like the pet-stock rats. We called the health department and Animal Control. The police decided to get involved too. They came over and gave us the details of what was going on, and the rest was filled in by various people around town. Oh, we were local celebrities for awhile. Anyway, the neighbors cleaned up their property, got rid of the rats, and I haven't seen them since. I know, big anticlimax.
Loose end two: I have a new baby grand daughter! She was born last May and has finally figured out how to crawl forward! (She was stuck in reverse for a couple of months. This was funny to everyone but the baby.) This is the Stainless Steel Amazons' baby that we all thought was permanently attached up in there and was going to have to attend high school graduation in utero; well, she finally blooped out. And because attending ones' daughter giving birth once was more than enough, grandma was NOT in attendance for this one. The SSA had her at home just like she did the Goonybird, with a midwife, and from what I understand it was just as squitty and funky as getting born usually is so I don't feel like I missed anything.
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Well then.
Me and the YB have been in marriage counselling for a few months. It just took a giant shit.
To make a long story short, I'm the only one who thinks theres a problem and there wouldn't be one if I'd just "shut up and stop complaining". That is a direct quote from our therapist. Oh yes! He has been full of terrifically humorous little comments like that. At my expense, generally. He tossed off that little bon mot last night.
I fired him this morning.
This leaves my marriage right back where it was three months ago, and us several hundred dollars poorer. Basically what it amounts to is that I just paid out several hundred dollars to learn that there's really no reason to hire someone with a degree to ignore you when you are already being ignored for free.
Life is given its depth and meaning by these small moments of clarity.
Now I went into this knowing that I was going to look bad. I wanted to get things fixed, right; so I chose to see a male therapist thinking that at least my husband would feel comfortable talking to another guy. All along I suspected that I'd be hard for him to take, training or no, because in my experience MEN HATE THIS SHIT. Training, education, whatever; when it comes right down to it, if you have tits, men just want you to shut up and stop complaining. And here I was: big tits, heap big upset. The ONLY one who's upset, I might add. Because my husband is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. My husband is tolerant and a little hurt and befuddled but being kind by humoring me and showing up for appointments. This is because my husband is a genuinely nice guy. Unfortunately, he's also one of those guys who figures if nobody yells or acts upset, then there isn't anything wrong.
No, seriously. Really. He honestly thinks that if you don't act like anything is wrong, then there magically IS NO PROBLEM. Yes, I know this is screamingly counter intuitive. Pay attention. We're not talking about academic issues here; this is emotions, and as Mr. Spock teaches us, 'emotion is illogical'. See what you can learn here at Paul? And from Star Trek?
I figured, as I can be excused for doing, that someone with a degree in marriage counselling might be able to help show us a middle road to take so that issues would resolve instead of just building and becoming horrible. I also figured we had a good shot at success... my husband and I are still best friends after everything is said and done..despite the fact that once one of those squishy emotional family marriagey icky issues would crop up, I was set adrift out there all alone on my ice floe screaming in the darkness, because everything would be just fine if I'd just stop making such a big deal about it.
Apparently our therapist agrees. And really, who wants to deal with some whining, histrionic broad when who just keeps on bringing up a bunch of problems; Jesus lady, come on! when its so much more fun to sit around a chat about motorcycles and Alaska and then get a check for it at the end of a couple of hours? Shit yeah!
So I don't know where things are going to go from here. I know that attempts are going to be made to get me to be a nice lady and play nice and apologize to the nice therapist for firing him and quit being 'so emotional'. I also know that I'm going to refuse because I'm sick of being treated like I'm someone who can be cozened and co-opted and bought off with lip service and then immediately ignored once the proper response has been jacked out of me. I am not asking for the fucking moon here, folks. I just want to be able to talk about things outside of an increasingly narrow range of safe subjects without being consigned to Outer emotional cocksucking Mongolia.
Oh well. It does free up my Wednesday nights, I guess.
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I feel your pain. Men are fuckers, no really they are. I won't go on about me because this is all about you. But consider some me time first then invite the hubs in.
ReplyDeleteI love you. No, really, I do. For the neighbor's rats alone, I love you.
ReplyDeleteThere's got to be some fancy German word for this (and no I don't mean Schadenfreude), when I'm having a really shitty day and someone comes along with their own problems and just spills them all out and I have a good laugh about it and go "Oh, what the hell, life is just nuts, thank fuck it's not just me, and here I thought I was the only one!" I think it might be called bonding, but that's not high-falutin' enough.
I was gonna say something awhile back along the lines of "Marriage counselor, FTW?!" but I refrained, as I thought it was going good. Fuck that. Every person I have ever known (and I have known a lot) that has gotten a degree in psychology, etc., and has gone into practice has been without a doubt the most overbearing, smug, know-it-all, lord-it-over, in-your-face cunt-fest of cliches that you could ever hope to meet. The only people that top them in that department are religious marital counselors. A good friend of mine that I grew up with got her Master's in Psychology, went in to practice, and gave it up because, and I quote "Those are some seriously messed people I work with." AND SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT THE OTHER PSYCHOLOGISTS, NOT THE CLIENTS! She gave it up and became a hairdresser, she says it's easier and less stressful listening to people's lives while cutting their hair, plus she gets tips. Seriously.
Fire the fucker and put your foot up his arse on the way out. Hell, set fire to the fucker. And of course I'm going to go all Ann Landers and tell you that you should just go to therapy on your own, occasionally dragging YB along, but you already knew that.
Somewhere in you, you already know what you want, and what you want to do, but you just aren't doing it. That's usually what marriage counseling is about, isn't it?
Hang in there girl.
'Commitment Issues'.
ReplyDeleteNothing like them, they liven up a relationship. Take it from me, I know.
I've had several, some of them twice.
Think. Why not explain the problem to the Biker in a way he understands. Relation, marriage how you call it, is nothing static. And if it shall be good, maintanance work is needed. Like saying things, like "I want this." "I want this not." Would make a kind of start. Silence kills it.
ReplyDeleteYou need a good referee. You are smart and know what you want. Go for it and do not hesitate to share. Good news on the rat front!
ReplyDeleteGale: oh darling, I'm way ahead of you. I already went by myself way back last August. This was supposed to be that second step, where hubby comes in. Unfortunately, we drew a joker out of the deck. See how rational I'm being? I'm impressed as hell with myself right now. I said 'joker' when what I wanted to say was...something else. Involving napalm. And monkeys. And upholstery needles.
ReplyDeletefatty: the word you're looking for is 'schaudenbondingfreudenschlagen' and it means 'we need to meet up someplace around Yreka and have a huge mexican dinner together and maybe catch a movie'. I love you (desparately and unreasonably) for the phrase 'cuntfest of cliches' and also for knowing ezzackly what I mean, which I know dat you do's. But read back, buxom birdie....I DID fire the fucker. I did that this morning, after sleeping on it, having breakfast and considering things clearly in the light of day yadda yadda yadda. What do I want to do now? Find a fucking shred of dignity and try again. I love my Biker even more desparately and unreasonably than I love you. Sorry.;)
Garfy: how many times have you been committed? *badoomBAM!* thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the prime rib.
God, I'm sorry.
Mago: Oh darling, I've tried all that. We talk. We love each other. It's that being a confrontational person who is married to a NON-confrontational person is difficult!
Time for a female counselor? Or a good one? I know, hard to find, but glad you are still trying.
ReplyDeleteAnd if hubs doesn't think there is anything wrong if no one is yelling, then yell more.
His 'n' her scooters should do the trick. Ditch the big bikes and discover the true way of the Jedi.
ReplyDeleteCommitted? Sorry dear, we're trundling about about on superior machines and we have dress sense.
We weave between traffic, you obstruct it.
JoeVegas: been there, done that too. Including the 'yelling louder' part. I'm really good at that. It'll work out eventually. I may go nuts in the interim, but then they'll give me better drugs, so theres that.
ReplyDeletegarfy: That ventured off into the aetherial reals and airs above the ground there toward the end. ya losted me. *clicks heels together three times and waits*
....aetherial REALMS.
ReplyDeletethat is.
Would it help if I rolled a giant wheel of Canadian cheddar (extra aged) down across the border and over his bike?
ReplyDeleteConfrontational and non-confrontational just do not mix.
ReplyDeleteThis type of relationship can drive a person nuts... so nuts that they might start breeding rats... or, in a worse case scenario, they might start pretending to be Marilyn Monroe.
Sx
Sorry, I misread and thought that you were thinking about re-hiring him, my bad. In my defense, I have not been firing on all 3 cylinders lately.
ReplyDeleteAnd what do you mean you love the YB more than me? When did that happen? WHERE WAS MY MEMO? I mean, yeah, I can understand MJ ranking above me, but still!
Hi there,
ReplyDeleteTotally agreed with the assessment of Blues should be. But apart from the "elderly black men" bit - country music is pretty similar. In evidence, I would like to submit The Killer and his "A damn good country song"
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/A+Damn+Good+Country+Song/24155175
all the best
WL
MJ: aim for the therapist instead. and use Limburger.
ReplyDeleteScarlet: You breed rats??
Fatty: Buy a Harley. things could change. Actually no, I'm lying, but buy a Harley anyway.
BavarianOO: Welcome welcome to Paul! And thank you for the link, too!
...I found this piss-stained cap over at Mr. Ovarian Bavarians place. Does it belong to anyone?
ReplyDeleteHarley David son of a bitch is crap. Royal Enfield or a Vorona for heavy duty.
ReplyDeleteI'd go for the Vorona.
Woman-despising little shit-for-a-'therapist'.
ReplyDeleteFumes on your behalf.
Can you make your Wednesday nights a little special just for you for a while? I dunno - start a band in the garden shed, then you wouldn't have to bother with an ipod.
Still fuming. Smarmy, mind-fucking little shitter.
FN: If I could afford a Harley I could afford a decent vibrat... Never mind.
ReplyDeleteAlso, that is not the piss-stained cap you are looking for. I sent you an e-mail.
That's good news, since Wednesday is league night down at the local bowling alley.
ReplyDeleteFirst off I still owe you a music email sorry - it's coming (we're up to 3 A4 pages now)...
ReplyDeleteSecond...if you've yelled and then yelled harder and yelling isn't going to work (and just makes us look like emotional, idiotic hormonal women anyway) have you tried writing the YB a letter stating exactly why you're not happy and what you think is wrong and how you think it can be fixed? Sometimes it concentrates people's minds if they read something rather than just listening to it.
Then suggest some neutral ground where you can talk about it. I'm not sure about the counselling bit - not because I don't think it works but because if only one of you thinks that there's a problem and the other one is going on sufferance (as it were) then that itself sets up a barrier in addition to the automatic defence mechanisms we have of not wanting to talk about our problems in public.
Because the thing is that talking about problems and issues to a third party is tantamount to admitting that there's a problem and of course the YB, loving you and not wanting to lose you or lose the relationship won't want to admit to any problems in case they can't be fixed (or can only be fixed) without breaking the relationship.
Are you turning into Carrie Bradshaw?
ReplyDeleteYeah, this sounds like a do it yourself project. Good therapists are mighty thin on the ground. There has to be a personality click for it to work in the first damn place. I, personally, cannot imaging willingly participating in a discussion between THREE parties about my inner emotional workings. I would quite literally rather be thrown under a bus.
ReplyDeleteShit?
ReplyDeleteShit and shinola. The variations are seemingly endless.
ReplyDeleteAw poooo. I am only one of your more imaginary friends, but I say to you: Much love. * arm waving in a loving but incoherent manner *
ReplyDeleteCrap. I hate marriage problems. I can only empathize because you do NOT want to hear any kind of stuff passing for advice from me, of all people. But I was thinking if I was you I'd withhold the tits until he developed a little, shall we say, sensitivity? Just my take. Good vibes your way.
ReplyDelete