MishMash
I need to write more. There was a time in my life that writing was the only thing I could see myself doing. Why do I always stop doing it when I could most benefit from it?
Part of it is nothing but sheer embarrassment, a bit of fear, maybe a dash of pride. I seem to always forget that this journal, though 'open' to others to read, is first and foremost for me. It is only under attack that I hold tight to that fact, that ownership.
The reason this has gone back to 'friends only' is simply put, but so overgrown with thorns I just haven't wanted to say anything of it. My father, for a second time began to read it. What he found was information he was completely unaware of. The fact that I have Josh in my life. I don't mean to guard our relationship as something secret, but I did so for the sake of both of us. There was no good to come from parental insight early on. I knew where the judgment would be, and has ended up, long before the knowledge was ever there to make judgments about.
I knew what would be thought of him, and what would be inferred about me. I quite simply didn't want to deal with that. So I never said anything. How quickly a year flew by and still I had said nothing. I wish I could say it added a sexy secret overtone to us, but it was just business as usual to me. If I had been asked 'Are you seeing someone?', I would have said yes. That is a question never asked of me, because the assumption is always 'No.' The assumption has always also likely been that if I was, I would be so ecstatic and shocked that I couldn't keep my mouth shut. My assumption was that if I ever had that someone, the questions that would follow would be more like a firing squad than excitement for a daughter who has found someone to care for, and care for her.
I was right. In two sweepingly quick conversations with my parental units the gauntlet fell. I'd made a bad choice, he was a bad choice. The things said, assumed, just shock me. In particular the things my mother said. My mother has never been one to tell me to find a good rich man to take care of me. My mother was always my inspiration to be independent. In her life, she wasn't given that chance. The one thing she did of her own accord was marry my father.
The fact that she said to me that he could not 'treat me well', as I said he did if he didn't have a job or something to give WITH. That one, despite the other things said is the one thing that is just gutting to me. My hero fell in those words.
I have never been this disappointed with my mother. I thought that she would be happy, that I was really grown up, and found someone based on more than an a paycheck but real character. Wrong-o.
Since that first week after Dad reading this, we've all been playing the it never happened game. I have said nothing because I know that my words will start off calm and collected but will end in a shouting match because I'm the child in the wrong for falling for a pauper instead of a prince. I'm the duped fat chick. That's what it really is to them and I know it. Instead of starving for cheesecake the assumption is I was starving for affection so I latched onto the first thing that would have me. Painted myself a beautiful glorified version of the person and settled at that.
So I'm staying quiet. There is a reason I have always left that side of my life a matter that did not seek parental approval or grace parental eyes. What they say in comfort is that 'no one will ever be good enough for our little girl', but it feels insulting more than affectionate.
What it really feels like is that 'no one you choose will ever be good enough for you because you have shit for standards'.
The thing is, I'm happy. I'm happy with the fact that if he and I make a life of this we won't have everything under the sun and more. I don't care if we never take a luxurious vacation or have gobbs of money just hanging around. I don't care that is sounds romanticized and blind. I'm not blind. I've seen enough well off couples in misery despite their golden surroundings for a lifetime. I don't want a free ride or someone else in my life to hold himself above me because of more money. I don't want that power struggle. I just want a life. A real life.
If it's hard, it's hard. Oh well. I'd rather it be hard and still be able to say 'I love you' to the person I'm sharing the cardboard box with than come home to a quiet museum and feel nothing but ice in my heart.
I am not stupid, I am well aware how unrealistic that sounds. Money is a necessity in these times. I am well aware of that. What I cannot seem to find the right words for when it comes to Josh and my parents and all of this is that if he never makes more than me, I'm happy. If he ends up making ten times as much as me, I'm still happy. It doesn't matter. I used to say I wanted all of these things in my future. That was just it though, it was stuff. Stuff I wanted because I assumed I would never be where I am at right now. I figured if I was going to be 'just me' long term, than why not splurge. Plan for a life with little luxuries that I would earn for myself as my reward for my work. I have a fabulous family of friends, and in that regard I figured I would always have enough love in my life. Then there was Josh. Such an incredible compliment to that life, that perspective had to shift. Despite all my fighting, all my clinging to what was getting me through on my own.
I still want a home, I still want that 1969 Camaro SS in the garage to tinker with, but I want him in there just a greased up and tired from the tinkering as I am. If that makes him a bad choice, fuck it. I don't care. I love my parents, that will never change. What I despise in them is the inability to let me be a real adult. In a way that may be my own damn fault for living under their roof as long as I did, for always assuming they could fix what I fucked up. That time has passed, clearly been severed in my day to day life. In their eyes though, I don't think anything has shifted and I don't know how to get them to see it.
Somehow no matter what I say in defense of my choice, my Josh, my decisions all of it comes out as a whiney 3 year old temper tantrum.
Since they're playing the 'it never happened' game, I'm going to continue doing the same in our conversations. The truth is out there now and it's only a matter of time before someone has to let reality seep through. Who it will be I do not know, but in the meantime I'm just living as I was, enjoying my time with him before the harsh comments and judgment come his way.
He will have to explain his everything to them, and I pity him for it. Much as I will have to explain my actions, my everything to them. We will be the same then, and I dread that day. I dread the day he has to explain his choices as I have had to explain mine.
I thought about deleting this journal forever. Letting over 5 years of my words disappear. I couldn't do it. There is too much of me, too much of my mind, my life, my soul in these words. Stupid or not...this is me. What I know, what I feel. My moments. I can't and won't apologize for them, and I don't want them to end.
So I'm staying, all be it in a locked sense. You're stuck with me. I need this, I need the comments, the insight, the shared experiences. I need this for myself.
...if anyone's even still out there??
Part of it is nothing but sheer embarrassment, a bit of fear, maybe a dash of pride. I seem to always forget that this journal, though 'open' to others to read, is first and foremost for me. It is only under attack that I hold tight to that fact, that ownership.
The reason this has gone back to 'friends only' is simply put, but so overgrown with thorns I just haven't wanted to say anything of it. My father, for a second time began to read it. What he found was information he was completely unaware of. The fact that I have Josh in my life. I don't mean to guard our relationship as something secret, but I did so for the sake of both of us. There was no good to come from parental insight early on. I knew where the judgment would be, and has ended up, long before the knowledge was ever there to make judgments about.
I knew what would be thought of him, and what would be inferred about me. I quite simply didn't want to deal with that. So I never said anything. How quickly a year flew by and still I had said nothing. I wish I could say it added a sexy secret overtone to us, but it was just business as usual to me. If I had been asked 'Are you seeing someone?', I would have said yes. That is a question never asked of me, because the assumption is always 'No.' The assumption has always also likely been that if I was, I would be so ecstatic and shocked that I couldn't keep my mouth shut. My assumption was that if I ever had that someone, the questions that would follow would be more like a firing squad than excitement for a daughter who has found someone to care for, and care for her.
I was right. In two sweepingly quick conversations with my parental units the gauntlet fell. I'd made a bad choice, he was a bad choice. The things said, assumed, just shock me. In particular the things my mother said. My mother has never been one to tell me to find a good rich man to take care of me. My mother was always my inspiration to be independent. In her life, she wasn't given that chance. The one thing she did of her own accord was marry my father.
The fact that she said to me that he could not 'treat me well', as I said he did if he didn't have a job or something to give WITH. That one, despite the other things said is the one thing that is just gutting to me. My hero fell in those words.
I have never been this disappointed with my mother. I thought that she would be happy, that I was really grown up, and found someone based on more than an a paycheck but real character. Wrong-o.
Since that first week after Dad reading this, we've all been playing the it never happened game. I have said nothing because I know that my words will start off calm and collected but will end in a shouting match because I'm the child in the wrong for falling for a pauper instead of a prince. I'm the duped fat chick. That's what it really is to them and I know it. Instead of starving for cheesecake the assumption is I was starving for affection so I latched onto the first thing that would have me. Painted myself a beautiful glorified version of the person and settled at that.
So I'm staying quiet. There is a reason I have always left that side of my life a matter that did not seek parental approval or grace parental eyes. What they say in comfort is that 'no one will ever be good enough for our little girl', but it feels insulting more than affectionate.
What it really feels like is that 'no one you choose will ever be good enough for you because you have shit for standards'.
The thing is, I'm happy. I'm happy with the fact that if he and I make a life of this we won't have everything under the sun and more. I don't care if we never take a luxurious vacation or have gobbs of money just hanging around. I don't care that is sounds romanticized and blind. I'm not blind. I've seen enough well off couples in misery despite their golden surroundings for a lifetime. I don't want a free ride or someone else in my life to hold himself above me because of more money. I don't want that power struggle. I just want a life. A real life.
If it's hard, it's hard. Oh well. I'd rather it be hard and still be able to say 'I love you' to the person I'm sharing the cardboard box with than come home to a quiet museum and feel nothing but ice in my heart.
I am not stupid, I am well aware how unrealistic that sounds. Money is a necessity in these times. I am well aware of that. What I cannot seem to find the right words for when it comes to Josh and my parents and all of this is that if he never makes more than me, I'm happy. If he ends up making ten times as much as me, I'm still happy. It doesn't matter. I used to say I wanted all of these things in my future. That was just it though, it was stuff. Stuff I wanted because I assumed I would never be where I am at right now. I figured if I was going to be 'just me' long term, than why not splurge. Plan for a life with little luxuries that I would earn for myself as my reward for my work. I have a fabulous family of friends, and in that regard I figured I would always have enough love in my life. Then there was Josh. Such an incredible compliment to that life, that perspective had to shift. Despite all my fighting, all my clinging to what was getting me through on my own.
I still want a home, I still want that 1969 Camaro SS in the garage to tinker with, but I want him in there just a greased up and tired from the tinkering as I am. If that makes him a bad choice, fuck it. I don't care. I love my parents, that will never change. What I despise in them is the inability to let me be a real adult. In a way that may be my own damn fault for living under their roof as long as I did, for always assuming they could fix what I fucked up. That time has passed, clearly been severed in my day to day life. In their eyes though, I don't think anything has shifted and I don't know how to get them to see it.
Somehow no matter what I say in defense of my choice, my Josh, my decisions all of it comes out as a whiney 3 year old temper tantrum.
Since they're playing the 'it never happened' game, I'm going to continue doing the same in our conversations. The truth is out there now and it's only a matter of time before someone has to let reality seep through. Who it will be I do not know, but in the meantime I'm just living as I was, enjoying my time with him before the harsh comments and judgment come his way.
He will have to explain his everything to them, and I pity him for it. Much as I will have to explain my actions, my everything to them. We will be the same then, and I dread that day. I dread the day he has to explain his choices as I have had to explain mine.
I thought about deleting this journal forever. Letting over 5 years of my words disappear. I couldn't do it. There is too much of me, too much of my mind, my life, my soul in these words. Stupid or not...this is me. What I know, what I feel. My moments. I can't and won't apologize for them, and I don't want them to end.
So I'm staying, all be it in a locked sense. You're stuck with me. I need this, I need the comments, the insight, the shared experiences. I need this for myself.
...if anyone's even still out there??