I was always the kid in school who wanted to have the "right answer." I raised my hand ALL THE TIME. I used to think of in-class assignments as a RACE--a RACE to see who would finish FIRST (preferably, ME)!
I thrive on positive recognition. I am an Extrovert. I work for a government agency, and most of my peers are a good 10-15 years older than I am. They tend to describe me as "perky" and "enthusiastic" and "energetic." One person actually described me as being like a "gerbil on a treadmill..."
I do not consider this to be bad. I love my job, and I THRIVE in my current work environment. It suits me. Hard work is rewarded. Attention to detail is rewarded. Knowledge is rewarded. I am very excited about my job and the work I get to do.
Every day, I get to do the things that I do best--read, write, and communicate. I have the PERFECT job. It is my passion.
And it also, in many ways, led to my divorce.
I was married to a very insecure, very needy man. The more successful I became, the more resentful he became. I tolerated it for a very, very long time. Eventually, I snapped. I was sick and tired of "apologizing" for being successful.
I did everything right. I studied in high school. I played by the rules. I didn't "party," and I didn't do anything that could potentially jeopardize my future. I joined clubs and held offices. I dumped Cheerleading, even though I enjoyed it, because I didn't think it would add anything substantive to my College Scholarship Applications. The result: I attended College on a full academic and leadership scholarships. In fact, I got so much scholarship money, that I had to report it as income and pay TAX on it my senior year!
When I went off to college, I maintained the same sensibilities--always considering the consequences, always thinking about my future. I joined a sorority, but didn't "party" or do stupid, drunken things. I was a GOOD GIRL.
And then I married a guy that I met at a Fraternity Party, in front of a bonfire, at 2:00 in the morning.
He was attentive and persistent.
I was never the kind of girl that boys found attractive at first sight. I was too smart and too pristine for most boys. I was always the girl that guys liked after they sat next to me in math class for a semester. So, of course I was easily flummoxed by "Mr. Popular" who pursued me relentlessly after meeting me in front of a bonfire at 2:00 in the morning.
So I married him (because he was the first guy that asked.)
And, being the Good Girl that I am, I committed to making the marriage work, despite the fact that my parents and my sister despised him. I was the "Good Wife," siding with and making excuses for, the Black Sheep of a Husband. I went through this charade for more than a decade, until I finally snapped.
Everything was always MY FAULT. My Family was always "out to get him." Nobody truly "understood him." And I, being the Good Girl from a Bad Country Song, resolved to "Stand By My Man." I was 21, he was 24. Neither one of us was old enough to know a damned thing. And he was a MUCH better chameleon than I. I was the small-town girl from the right-side of the tracks. I was ill-prepared for the subterfuge that marriage to him would require.
It was exhausting.
It was chaotic.
He made messes wherever he went--he was like "Pigpen," being followed by a great cloud of dirt.
I dutifully cleaned up the messes.
And then we had kids.
And I got tired of cleaning up all the messes all the time. I came to see him as a petulant adolescent, instead of a grown-up. I started resenting cleaning up messes for someone who was supposed to be a grown-up--a father figure.
At the same time, my career started to take-off. Opportunities were falling in my lap right and left. He, on the other hand, found it increasingly more difficult to stay gainfully-employed. My achievements kept us afloat, and dug even more deeply into his damaged ego.
I became the object of his anger and hostility.
And I put up with it, because he always apologized later, and it was "just words."
Deep down, though, I hated that I forgave him. I'm a verbal person--I love to read, I love to write--WORDS are important to me, and I never, EVER said the horrible, hateful words that popped into my head when we were fighting. I bit them back because they were horrible and ugly. Yet, I sat there and ABSORBED whatever he chose to throw at me. Why? Because he would apologize later.
And then it finally happened--after 12 years of marriage--the hateful words were hurled at me and this time, they were accompanied by a physical blow. It wasn't a particularly powerful blow (because he was "holding back"), but it was still a BLOW just the same.
That's when I finally knew--I knew that the marriage beyond repair if he would resort to hitting me. I "left" the marriage at that moment--not physically, but mentally. Being the Good Girl that I was, I felt I couldn't leave until I could take care of certain bills, and since I was (and always had been) paying for the day-to-day living expenses, I still needed his income to take care of everything.
But my attitude changed that night. I realized that I was the one who made most of the money, and that I was perfectly capable of providing for our children all by myself. I didn't NEED him. He was nothing but a DRAIN financially, and besides "being around" for the kids (because he was unemployed) while I worked, he really contributed very little. He did contribute to the children as a father, but he provided me with NOTHING.
And to THIS DAY, he STILL believes that he did NOTHING wrong, and that he was perfectly justified to HIT me because "I made him so angry."
Always the victim.
Not only do I not want to BE the victim, but I also do not want to spend my life with a man who portrays HIMSELF as being a victim.
So, now I am divorced. FREE emotionally and intellectually. I'm not free monetarily, but that is temporary. The important thing is that I have removed the "Dead Weight" that has been hanging around my neck for more than a decade. Yes, I still have to deal with him, because of the kids, but at least I still have some independence and am no longer required to clean up HIS MESSES. Good riddance.
