Finding Catharsis

Catharsis: 

2

a: purification or purgation of the emotions (as pity and fear) primarily through art b: a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension (1)

Thank you Mr. Webster.

I've tried for the last few months not to make this blog about me and my ex and my issues.  So far I've done a decent job.  I'm not one who is fond of hanging dirty laundry out for the world to view, even though quite a bit of the world has had a peek at it in the last few years.  So, here's a question to ponder:  how do you let go when an ex won't say they are sorry or never acknowledges they wronged you?  Especially when you've admitted all the things you screwed up at?

At the risk of being messy and fish-wifeish I sit here to achieve some much needed catharsis.  I very desperately need some purgation.  Seeing as how this is my current form of art and expression, this is the medium I will use.  Maybe once it's all out of my head I'll be able to sleep at night, carry on a normal conversation and handle up on this Mercury Retrograde b.s.. 

For anyone mutually involved..you might want to stop reading right about here.

I have resentment, a lot of it.  I resent the very notion of being divorced first of all.  See, in my family, it's not looked on very politely.  On my mother's side we are very cradle Catholic, going back many guilt-inducing generations.  Along with the idea of vows and public acknowledgement of a union there is an acceptance, you accept that you are bound to this individual regardless of what they put you through, just shy of acute physical abuse.  (even that has some grey area)  You stay.  You stay and you deal and you fight the good fight.  Is it healthy?  Probably not, but that's the way it's done.  The very reason I never wanted to get married happened, my ultimate fear was realized.

That's what I did.  I never made it a secret that I wasn't ready to be married or a mother when we wed, most likely to an obnoxious degree.  I know I was never an easy woman to live with but I did the best I could with the situation I was given.  I fought the good fight.  People talk all the time about being happy, and how that's what everyone is supposed to be.  In my world, happiness was a state only reached by doing what was needed to be done for those around me.  So, that's what I did, everything.  I worked a full time job for the majority of the decade, cooked, cleaned, did all the domestic duties.  I maintained the air of a pretty, intelligent wife and did my best to offer up weekly sex.  There were plenty of days where the last thing I wanted to do was any of that.  I became a doormat in the process, none of it ever seemed to be quite good enough, there was always something lacking in my domestic performance.

The resentment hits me hard and fast when I realize that he still gets his life, his dream, his way.  I was never important when we were married, so I did what I could to make sure that he had all he wanted.  Gave ample opportunities for him to go to school, offered to shoulder not only the financial burden of the house and child but all the duties that came with having those.  When the question arose years later about me taking some online courses, it was made known to me that as long as I could pay for it on my own it was fine.  I would have no support or help from the person I'd joined the military to support.  That's just one small example of how our lives were.  I knew after a certain length of time that I was never going to be as important as he was.  I hated the notion, but I stayed, I made the best of it. 

We did split once in the middle of the 11 years, I was overseas, things were completely horrible between us.  I told him to take our daughter and go home.  I couldn't raise her because the corps wouldn't have let me, I also knew I wasn't in a frame of mind to be a decent mom at that point in my life.  We stayed that way for 18 months, then decided to give it a second try.  For the most part it was better than the first half.  As things slowly declined back to where they'd been in the beginning, I began to resign myself to the notion that that was the best I'd ever do.  That was the life I'd been given so I had to make it work, because I had to show my child that hard work pays off at some point.  If it meant fielding questions by friends and family to the effect of:  "how do you deal with how he talks to you??"  or "why do you work like you do? what does he do for a living??"  I am a clever woman, I know very well how to maintain diplomacy and grace in any situation. 

When he left, I didn't ask for him to come home, didn't ask for him to take me back.  I didn't want to live with him anymore.  I didn't want to be a doormat anymore.  But, I also didn't want to be a statistic or failure and in my opinion that's exactly what happened.  I hear everyone say, "you didn't fail, you have a beautiful daughter".  Yeah, well, I could have had the baby without the marriage license or the damn heartache.  What I'm getting at ultimately is this:  I STAYED.  I did my part.  I played the role.  I made all the mistakes and took all the bullshit and still stayed.  I didn't run like a coward and hide away from the pain and the looks and the memories.  I'm not even from this town and I stayed here because this is my child's home.  I was the one who had to carry around the blame and get the looks, but I didn't run away.  I took my lick like a grownup.  It severely hurt because when I wanted to take that road, I didn't.

So the rundown goes like this: 

I resent being left when I stayed and did my part.

I resent being forced to start my life over at 32.

I resent being forced to work like a man for the better part of a decade instead of being a proper mother.

I resent never being allowed the opportunity to better myself.

I resent being spoken down to and conditioned to believe I'm worthless.

I resent never being asked why I did the things I did or the acknowledgement that it was a two way street.

I resent never getting a heartfelt apology for anything, or at the very least an acknowledgement that I wasn't the only one doing damage. 

It's not pretty. It's probably petty and late but it's here, and I'm not going to hide or take any of it back.  Maybe now I can move on. 

(1) Webster's definition