The only power I have comes from being reasonable. If someone goes beyond being reasonable, then I lose. If someone is so convinced their position is correct, then I will always break, and just go along with what they say. I was convinced that if I ever went against my wife, she would leave me, and so I put up with a lot of frustration and unhappiness just to avoid that outcome.
We worked on that for a while, and I came to believe she was willing to give me some slack, but she did lay out a bottom line It’s not a bottom line I can live with and still get what I’m looking for from life, and yet if I cross that line, I lose her. It is non-negotiable. I know that I will cross it someday, because the tension is too much. I can’t talk to her about it because to talk to her is to admit that I want to cross that line, which, in her mind, is the same as crossing the line.
So I get depressed, because it is impossible to accept myself and impossible not to be myself, and there is only pain no matter what I do—some mine, some hers, some my children’s, some the community’s. Yeah. Depression is the proper answer, because then I can take it all out on myself.
Yeah, growing up, arguing was a death sentence. You can’t win if you argue. You can only lose. I never saw an argument clear the air. It cleared the room. Everyone went off to hide.
In my marriage, she always wins the battle about who does more. She has a gazillion lists, and every time she wants to talk about them, I dread it because I know it’ll only end with her whimpering about how she can’t do it all, and will I do these things that I don’t think need to be done.
I have no time of my own—on my own, except for what I sneak on the computer, but even that creates tension because she resents this time or is afraid of this time, too. But I don’t have a night out with the boys, or any crowd to hang with, except the crazy people in my group—and that’s an hour or two maybe once a month, on average.
I’m here all the time, and there’s no way out except if it all crashes and burns, which it will, one day, and I don’t know if I can wait. And I don’t know if I can work it out, and I don’t think I have a right to have what I want, because it’s immoral and because everyone says it won’t fix me, anyway. Some say it’s downright unhealthy.
And I hate myself for saying all this because it is the kind of thing that only people I despise do. And the only thing that let’s me say it is that I could always commit virtual suicide and find some other place to hang out. Or not.