Surviving Dysregulation

 Lately, all I see on social media and the internet in general, is ads for "Nervous System Dysregulation".

It's meant to sell you some sort of app for your phone... and very likely is a clever way to dig even further into the collective minds of the general population - or at minimum, the general population of women. I'm not sure if men get the same ads. I feel like that elevator speech (read ads) would be geared more to what the male populous experiences as an affront to their pride, sense of entitlement or general opinions about what they deserve.

I'm certain this sounds a tad stilted and maybe even a little mean or unwarranted in all cases... and I can certainly concede that not every man on the planet is geared the same way. I can only speak what I experience. I can only experience things from my own perspective... and I can easily appreciate my perspective is at best skewed and at worst unsalvageable in the current iteration of my existence.

My husband is carrying on an extramarital relationship. I discovered this on Good Friday, last year. Since then, I've been blamed, manipulated, lied to, and I've been promised it had ended. I've also discovered little bits of proof as recently as a week ago, that said relationship has most certainly not ended. The last time I confronted him, he completely dodged answering me. He changed the subject every time I tried to come back to it. He's gaslighting me. I really hate to admit that, but it is true.

I am a highly intuitive person. I'd go so far as to say that has become a curse that I bear. I don't usually need solid proof to know something is wrong. I will, however, say that the first sign of this came as a complete shock. I never imagined this man... the man I agreed to share my life with, the man that I planned to be with until one of us dies could hurt me like this. I couldn't believe my ears when he had the nerve to blame me for his behaviour. I'm still reeling from that one.

To unpack this, I have to wind the clock back a ways. For like around 3 years, I've been in a battle with my body and mind. I'm in my early 50's and as many of us know, Mother Nature is not kind to women in this age group. It's like being dragged backward through puberty... backward. Think about that - the way puberty unfolds; You are a child. Innocent and somewhat carefree... and then your body starts experiencing all sorts of weird changes and you begin to come alive in ways you've never even imagined before. It's not all sunshine and lollipops - the hormonal angst and moodiness is a tad rough - but at its core, it's like a flower blooming. It's life. It's birth. It's beautiful. It's exciting. 

Now think about that in reverse. The hormonal angst is now powered by nearly 40 years of stress, disappointment and responsibility. Not to mention the fact that my particular mental health ailment doesn't present until after puberty... and I wasn't even properly diagnosed or treated until my 40's. So I can say I possess an inordinate amount of frustration and anger. That means I have to work harder at not being a lunatic than most. I don't mind being seen as quirky, or a tad wacky, but lunatic is certainly not where I want to land. I have been in this battle with my own body for a long time. I'm gaining weight. I feel like I'm going insane. My moods are all over the map and my anger is actually a tad frightening by times. My libido is essentially dying and my 'flower'? Well it's shrivelled up into a dry, crusty scab that just wants to flake away into the wind. Certainly not what I am about... or at least not until recently.

I have talked to my husband about this many times. I love him. I've always considered him to be my closest friend. I want him to know what is going on with me, so he doesn't think it has to do with him in any way. I will concede to the fact that there have been times that when he touches me, I cringe. It feels like an assault on my senses... but I force myself through it and I've been engaging in intimacy when I'm not necessarily 'in the mood' for most of this time. I'm not saying this isn't hard for him to swallow. I know it is tough on his manly pride that I'm not the horny minx he's grown accustomed to... but come on! We've been together for 26 years! I would think that it counts for something that I talk about it with him often and make every effort I can manage to continue giving him intimate attention. Even when I feel like I'm inside out and walking around in a world where everything hurts like a son-of-a-bitch!

Evidently, this was not the case. I guess I haven't been giving him enough attention. I don't tell him he's pretty enough. I don't flirt. And it's a major hit to his male ego that I have to 'force' sexual engagement. Even though I have expressed my own frustration at this and assured him a thousand times that it isn't him.

But maybe he has a point. Maybe it IS him. Maybe between all of the responsibility that is shovelled onto my plate, his continued absence and our kids' failure to launch, I just don't have the energy. Maybe the fact that he thinks he's a model husband and partner because he will do things around the house is a little galling to me. I mean, he asks me what I want him to do. He'll walk into a room, through a hallway, a set of stairs and a living room - that have obvious jobs needing to be done in each one - and ASK ME what I want him to do. What I want him to do is open his fucking eyes, look around his surroundings and fucking pick something that needs doing!! It seldom changes by much: Floors, dishes, litter boxes, groceries and laundry. He'll say that he wants to 'help me out' and make supper... but then I have to tell him what to cook, how to cook it and how much of it is required to feed 4 people. And let's be clear here people, I work full time, too. I'm not away most of the week, so he gets a pass on the day to day crap, but why in the actual fuck is all of this deemed to be mine? Why does he feel so good about himself for 'helping me out'? 

Is it really so hard to understand that when he makes me his mommy, I don't want to fuck him? I honestly feel that my entire existence boils down to a function and nothing more... and apparently, my boy is dissatisfied with the amount of attention mommy gives him, so I'm failing at that, too. So I guess I really do deserve to be cheated on and lied to??

Now, don't get me wrong, I get it. Life is sucky - especially right now. I can't even with the news and all the crap going on in our world right now. That gush of dopamine is better than heroin. Having someone polish your apple and fluff your ego is every bit as addictive as any drug. I know this all too well. I've been the asshole before, too. But I never blamed him. I never manipulated him. I never flat out lied to him and when I said it was over, it was over. Cannot state the same for him.

All I asked him for was transparency. I never even said he had to stop. Just be transparent. Don't lie to me. Don't manipulate or gaslight me. Is that so much to request from the man who promised to protect me? Who claims to love me? Who uses that same love as a weapon to be wielded?

This woman is in love with him... or at least she thinks she is... Fuck, I even get that! Sadly, I've travelled that crazy train myself. She's desperate for a white knight to save her and he's tired of feeling like the court jester. It's a perfect storm. But I am the only drowning casualty.

He tells me he has no contact and that I'm fabricating evidence to the contrary... then last weekend while I was cleaning the kitchen, I picked up some receipts that were carelessly left on the counter with whatever other crap was discarded on the counter without thought. He is required to submit receipts for work, so I never just randomly throw them out without checking. One in particular caught my attention, because it was on his mastercard. It has a large highly identifiable logo that shows up. Hard to miss at a glance. It was dated December 8th. It was for a teddybear. My hackles rose, but I wanted to make certain I wasn't blowing anything out of proportion. I looked at our bank account during the week that Dec 8 landed in... sure enough, that was the week he was working in the province and city where she lives. Since she is affiliated with the company he works for, it is highly likely they crossed paths while he was there. Although I will point out that rather out of the blue, he declared on the phone one night that he didn't know where she was working. I did think it was weird at the time, but I had convinced myself to put a pin in those feelings to get through the holiday.

Here's what I can tell you: I didn't get a teddybear for Christmas and neither did either of our children. So who did?

I'm done. I sincerely think we need a break from each other. I wish I had somewhere to go. It's winter, so I can't go to the trailer. I can't afford to stay at a hotel for a couple of weeks. I suppose I could ask him to stay the hell away from me for a few weeks, but I'd just be stuck home. With all of the responsibility. With kids that don't respect me, don't appreciate me and don't see me. With all of the work that comes with a family - I'd just be down by 1 kid. So it's just more of the same... and he gets yet another pass.

How can this be my life? Have I not experience enough trauma, heartache, bullshit and loss? He has been the only tether holding me to the Earth for much of the past 20 odd years. He's been my rock, my touchstone and my family. My love. How can he make this right in his mind? How can he continue to bash me in the head with this infidelity? 

All of this has started slopping all over everything else, too. Last week I had a terrible reaction to similar behaviour in the office. Being treated like someone's bitch. I kinda lost my mind. While I didn't 'say' much, it is seldom even possible to miss my anger energy. People in the building next door likely could feel the white hot rage I had burning through my chest. I hate myself for it. I hate him for contributing on the level he does to my hating myself and I'm so sick to death of feeling this way... I just want to escape. Sadly, the only options I have available to me at present are: Leave and abandon my kids with him. Chemical escape. Death. Or stay in the same stink and wait. For what? I really don't fucking know. I can tell you that if something doesn't soon change, I can't imagine how I'll make it much longer on this path.