Made to Worship

Here it is June 2014 and I still fear my husband’s unkindness. His entitlement. His pouting. His lies and manipulation. To top it off, I just read a blog entry by a woman whose father severely sexually abused her, and she hates her mom for it and is worried about how her rapist is coping. 

My desire to placate the implacable and to accept the unacceptable in men recently died. When I read stories about women who cater to their abusers, and when I meet women who are unkind to other women but who feel sorry for fathers who disgustingly use their own small daughters, I lose hope that Christ can ever help us. 

What is it that men do to us that keeps us coming back for more abuse, while we abandon ourselves and our sisters and mothers and friends? I don’t care if my abusers can cope. I don’t want a relationship with a relative who used me for sex. Every time I even remotely harm a man’s perception of himself, I receive a punishment that far outweighs the crime.

Things that hurt men:

Being held accountable

Not being catered to

Not being the center of attention

Not being instantly trusted

Being asked to consider my perspective

Being asked to respect my boundaries

Finding that their unkindness displeases me

Hearing about my experiences of abuse from men

 

Things that harm me:

The knowledge that my needs don’t matter

Knowing that if I were drunk, my husband would “take” whatever sexual pleasure he wants from me

Being treated badly by male strangers who feel entitled to my time and attention

Being overlooked and dismissed and being called a bitch if it even remotely bothers me

Dwelling too much on the negative 😜

 

So, yeah. I had a man recently treat me with kindness and gentleness that seemed genuine and not calculated to get an ego stroke, make me look bad, or lure me into his bedroom. I know this is why women followed Jesus everywhere; this is why I cling to Christ. He obeys God’s commands and He treats me as a precious and beloved daughter.

That man who was kind – I was ready to wash his feet with my tears, and he isn’t even Christ!

Peace out

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Toothless Breaks Free and Challenges the Alpha… Or, Fuck the Patriarchy

Tonight we saw HTTYD2. Fantastic. Hit me right in the feels. The villain, per usual, gained his minions (a word that now actually has positive connotations because DM) and army through intimidation and abuse. Kinda like marriage nowadays.

Does the average husband even care if his wife truly trusts and believes in him? Does the average husband care about anything beyond her surface behavior? My husband really isn’t interested in how he affects me. He doesn’t want to hear how I feel. Anything I say or do can quickly be interpreted as an attack or a judgment on him. I find myself faking it a lot.

Yes, faking it. I can feel scared or uncertain, but he doesn’t want to hear that. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I prevent his pride from suffering, cause him minimal discomfort, and take it easy on his poor sense of self. If I tell him I feel threatened, he says it’s like I’m telling him there’s something “wrong” with him. 

So I fake like I’m happy when I’m not. I’m sit with uncomfortable feelings and ask fewer questions and communicate less because I never know what innocuous thing might send him into a hateful pout. 

Would it matter to you if your wife truly enjoyed you? Or do you purchase her gratifying behavior through a series of calculated manipulations to keep her off-balance, afraid, frustrated, insecure? Is she your mindless, dutiful minion, unable to be herself because parts of who she is threaten you? 

I am not “mindless” about it, but it seems like a ridiculous way to go through life. I basically figure out how to keep from upsetting him anymore and ignore him when he pouts and avoid caring about anything much. This way, very little can be used against me. He still tries to blame me for his own difficulties.

Does my husband live with this kind of unease? He doesn’t seem concerned about upsetting me; he rather likes to anger me. He doesn’t seem to be vulnerable to worrying if I’m displeased with him or if he should modify any behaviors to contribute to harmony at home. 

I do think he’s faking it. I think his behaviors are a facade to prevent any kind of vulnerability or emotional intimacy from happening. I think that’s what threatens him. He prefers control. And while he’s no Bloodfist, I must confess that I’m highly disappointed that he has neither the courage nor the desire to earn my loyalty. Whether I am true means nothing to him. 

I cannot be continually dismissed, shut out, leered at, lied to, toyed with, scorned, blamed, and teased and present a very convincing act. Act as if I enjoy being devalued? No. The most I can do is not murder anyone.

Do You Have a License For That Brain?

I tried to pass a piece of advice along to my husband. The way he sometimes does to me. The way this works is that I listen to his perspective, sum it up, and store it away for future reference. Because I respect and value my husband and I know I sometimes need an outside view point.

He doesn’t tend to receive mine well. It’s almost as though he thinks I’m stupid, inept, couldn’t possibly be of any help, and cannot be worthy of respect. As though I were the enemy. What on earth made him choose to share a life with me and conceive and raise a child with me?

His problem today was that Mr. Buttons wanted attention and was starting to be a bit naughty because the child doesn’t know yet how to ask for attention. So I told my husband what was going on. They went outside to trim bushes. The husband overloaded the child with micromanaging instructions and neglected to encourage the child. They fought, and the husband came inside angry. After a little while, I suggested to the husband that he simply encourage the kid to try and praise him and not worry about how the bush turns out. Husband began to argue; I said I didn’t come out here to argue. I’m simply offering you advice the same way you help me sometimes. Husband was pouty and seemed to want to show off how good he was with the clippers. 

I believe God’s giving us the ability to conceive and raise children is not taken seriously enough. People argue about gun-control and abortion, but the greatest weapon of all is a brain.

Such a Time as This, Little Piggies

There’s a movie called About Time. It has Rachel McAdams (a superb actor) and Domhnall Gleeson (also superb). It has been a blessing of a movie to my family. Not that we let Mr. Buttons view it, but he has been indirectly blessed.

Things are slowly improving. My husband and I are revisiting old issues. God is introducing me to wonderful tools. Pride is dying its death stubbornly. 

I’m not stupid. And I won’t apologize for having feelings or for noticing the sullen pouting, the stiff pride, and the dissembling that is used against me. What’s the point in being married if we cannot be friends? Why would any man take a wife is she is to be treated as the enemy? An enemy appliance expected to perform duties sans emotion, passively, lifelessly, and pounded when her buttons are worn out. 

Where on earth is all this shoddy family programming coming from?

Well, the last week has been pleasant. Yard work, playing with the kid, reading the parts of Hermia and Theseus out loud at the table. Pretty good stuff. And the riddle of passive aggression everywhere, people who feed on your guilt, who excel at subterfuge and lying, and who have no idea what it means to feel and be vulnerable and empathetic. More a riddle than a trial lately, maybe.

Sorry I Behaved Like a Cold-Hearted Douchebag

That Pay It Forward movie is good. Helen Hunt always kicks ass.

So, anyway, the DH pouts. Constantly. I’m always worried about offending him and what revenge he will take. Usually he just ignores me for a while. I finally don’t care, which is progress. But what the heck kinda marriage is this? It’s like the impasse of poisoned-wine drinking on The Princess Bride. I mean, if he needs to tell me something, I wish he’d just spit it out. He’s LOADED with resentment. I must be a huge pain in the ass, but he can’t just break it to me.

I really think if he’d just talk, maybe share some emotions, he could get past it, maybe feel better. Maybe just tell me what he SEEMS to be saying – that I’m a pain in the ass. I could handle that better than the pouting.

I hate marriage and I don’t recommend it, especially if you are a passive aggressive male. If you like to pout, please don’t breed.

 

Your Father Needs You to Respect Him

I hate to do this, but I can’t see any other way. I watch my 9-year-old run over his father daily. My husband won’t stand up for himself. He never seems hurt or angry; he just takes whatever our selfish, headstrong son dishes out. I’m going to have to tell my son that his father will not ever be able to make and enforce rules, will not be able to connect emotionally, is just tired and broken and disengaged. Putting that so a child can understand? Telling a child he will have to choose to treat his own father better because his father will never ask for it?

My husband gives the kid everything he wants. If our son is upset or whiny, my husband disengages and withdraws. Our son pushes him around as though he were the lord of this house and my husband an indentured servant. I cannot hold this family together. I cannot convince my husband to take an interest.

Wish me luck. I am mature enough to behave respectfully and not run over a weak man; but a 9-year-old needs advice.

Swimming Lessons

It’s time for those April raindrops. Easter always means rain; must be the moon.

Everything here with PA hubby is the same. He can’t understand anything I say. He knows what angers me and spends a lot of time stirring that up and then acting clueless if I seem irritated. I mostly just behave very calmly and wait until he’s gone to feel and express the anger.

I deal with other PAs too. I usually don’t know they got me under hours later. Sneaky motherfucking SOBs the PAs are. It’s like a sports injury whose pain sets in later; it seemed minor at first, but I can’t use my knee very well for a few weeks. I actually hurt my knee doing squats and it took 3 weeks to heal. That’s what a PA jab can do to me.

I practiced being PA. I picked up tons of cool PA skills. I slipped into some satisfying habits. It’s like wearing scuba gear. To be PA is to be in an environment that does not support life. The passive aggression allows me to regulate my anger. It gives me a sense of control because I am interacting with someone who cannot be trusted. I have slowly come out of it, but I’m keeping some of the survival skills I picked up.

The night I realized how dangerous passive aggression is was the night I knew I could never be heard, that I was full of anger and resentment and had to get his attention by looking for something bad to do, even if it hurt us all. That’s when I pulled out of it, and since then I understand him better. It felt like I was drowning. If he feels like that, he may slowly and politely destroy us. Oh well.

There are worse things. Like TV nowadays.