My Toughest Relationship Has Ended
I believe my toughest relationship has ended. There are countless reasons why.
I can remember many details over the past nearly 40 years that have led to what has been inevitable during all these decades. I can remember even the small, seemingly insignificant details of pain and humiliation when I was a teenager. It seemed like the relationship was heading downhill fast, and every time it reached bottom, there was yet another hill and more of a downward trajectory.
This relationship has had only moments left for at least 30 of these years, yet the moments seemed to stretch on. Those moments have ended. Many hills later, and many new rock bottoms reached, the ride is over.
We disagreed about seemingly everything. How could a normal person, a male anyway, have long hair? Worse yet, parted in the middle? Must be a druggie! Totally unacceptable! On and on it went, everything from long hair to facial hair to tattoos to whatever! If I didn’t fit the tiny, neat little box of their expectations, all hell would break loose.
Why can’t you be like (insert a dozen names here of clean cut boys)? Never mind I did well in school. Never mind I never got into any trouble. Never mind I did many things for others. Never mind those clean cut kids did get into trouble. No, Jimmy just never fit into that little square box, and the insignificant bullshit mattered so much they never considered the things that really were important. In fact, to this day the important stuff is overlooked.
Oftentimes, while being berated, I found that I wasn't saying anything. I would stand still and listen as they, and especially one in particular, berated and criticized me. I would stand still and listen to the hyper-criticism many times over. Along with my friends, I would just sit there and listen, embarrassed for both them and myself! Yes, these kinds of things often happened in front of friends. Nothing like a slap aside the head or on the face in front of friends to shake your dignity a bit. I have a couple of friends that don’t realize that some 35 or so years later, no, it’s still not funny (for some reason, they believe it is now).
There came the point, perhaps at about age 18, that I must have realized that I simply stopped being offended or upset by it. Though at times those emotions would return during some random, scathing attack on how my life could have been so much better if I’d just stop being “me” and stared allowing others to run my life for me or become a “yes man” who does as dictated without question regardless of how asinine the demand is.
I think it was right before high school graduation, when one of them stated they would not attend the ceremony unless I cut my hair, that I had a “fuck this” moment. We'd argued so many times before about something so inconsequential that I suddenly just didn’t care anymore. The old reaction of walking away brooding and being offended at how critical and punishing this person was simply wasn’t there anymore.
In later years, there had been a number of times, especially after some ridiculous criticism over more insignificant, meaningless stuff, that I had temporarily stopped speaking to them. There came with that a sense of peace. I would try to convince myself that perhaps they don’t even realize they are so unkind, so judgmental, so harsh.
Let me state for the record that there were many positives through the years. However, those were basically limited to material things. Money. Cars. Stuff. Help with financial things. Almost always, however, with strings attached. And the strings could be pulled and the gift taken back. Yes, there were many positives, but the sting of never being accepted for who you are outweighs that. I’d rather have been dirt poor and accepted and encouraged than have things and be under a constant barrage of criticism. To this day, for them, it seems money trumps all.
I struggled with anxiety throughout most of my teen years thanks to the hyper-criticism. Any dreams of pursuing my passion rather than my pension were frowned upon because, after all, I had to be “practical”. The intense criticism of all the choices I made created a lot of angst even later in life. The constant negativity and criticism seemed to never end, and here, even in my 50s, still hasn’t ended. Actually, yes it has, as I am ending it now.
Oftentimes, they displayed (and still do) great cruelty in the way they speak about other people (a neighbor whose yard isn’t pristine enough; a person at the hospital not dressed nice enough; a person whom they believed made poor financial choices; the guy with an old, broken down car in his driveway; the neighbors that have nice stuff and don’t seem to ever work so they must be dealing drugs; me). The sad thing is, they believe what they’re saying is right, justified, irrefutable. If you dare to say you disagree, you’re reminded how you don’t know anything or how easily fooled you are.
Yes, they love me. I know that. But that habit of wounding me so casually? So often? So mindlessly? They never, ever seemed to realize it. And when brought to their attention, it was met with defiance and scorn.
They have lost many friends through the years because of their behavior. To them, it was always everyone else’s fault. Never theirs!
These two people and I may never speak to each other again. I just don’t want…let me rephrase that…I will no longer accept it. Nothing is ever good enough unless it fits in the little square box. The job I have? Not good enough - should have stayed at the other one even if I was miserable. After all, money is more important than dignity. My beard? Looks awful. That’s the first comment I got on a recent visit. Not “hello”. Not “How are you?” No, the usual “you don’t look like I want you to look so I’m going to begin my hyper-criticism now”. This time, I am giving up. Finally.
I no longer have it in me to do this anymore. I’m throwing in the towel. It’s over. I’m done listening to the same old, tired, worn out justifications I’ve invented for myself through the years so many times before to continue being on the wrong end of hyper-criticism. Perhaps I was just too damned pathetic and weak. Perhaps I allowed it for years because I simply accepted it as they are who the hell they are.
But…now I'm done.
I can remember many details over the past nearly 40 years that have led to what has been inevitable during all these decades. I can remember even the small, seemingly insignificant details of pain and humiliation when I was a teenager. It seemed like the relationship was heading downhill fast, and every time it reached bottom, there was yet another hill and more of a downward trajectory.
This relationship has had only moments left for at least 30 of these years, yet the moments seemed to stretch on. Those moments have ended. Many hills later, and many new rock bottoms reached, the ride is over.
We disagreed about seemingly everything. How could a normal person, a male anyway, have long hair? Worse yet, parted in the middle? Must be a druggie! Totally unacceptable! On and on it went, everything from long hair to facial hair to tattoos to whatever! If I didn’t fit the tiny, neat little box of their expectations, all hell would break loose.
Why can’t you be like (insert a dozen names here of clean cut boys)? Never mind I did well in school. Never mind I never got into any trouble. Never mind I did many things for others. Never mind those clean cut kids did get into trouble. No, Jimmy just never fit into that little square box, and the insignificant bullshit mattered so much they never considered the things that really were important. In fact, to this day the important stuff is overlooked.
Oftentimes, while being berated, I found that I wasn't saying anything. I would stand still and listen as they, and especially one in particular, berated and criticized me. I would stand still and listen to the hyper-criticism many times over. Along with my friends, I would just sit there and listen, embarrassed for both them and myself! Yes, these kinds of things often happened in front of friends. Nothing like a slap aside the head or on the face in front of friends to shake your dignity a bit. I have a couple of friends that don’t realize that some 35 or so years later, no, it’s still not funny (for some reason, they believe it is now).
There came the point, perhaps at about age 18, that I must have realized that I simply stopped being offended or upset by it. Though at times those emotions would return during some random, scathing attack on how my life could have been so much better if I’d just stop being “me” and stared allowing others to run my life for me or become a “yes man” who does as dictated without question regardless of how asinine the demand is.
I think it was right before high school graduation, when one of them stated they would not attend the ceremony unless I cut my hair, that I had a “fuck this” moment. We'd argued so many times before about something so inconsequential that I suddenly just didn’t care anymore. The old reaction of walking away brooding and being offended at how critical and punishing this person was simply wasn’t there anymore.
In later years, there had been a number of times, especially after some ridiculous criticism over more insignificant, meaningless stuff, that I had temporarily stopped speaking to them. There came with that a sense of peace. I would try to convince myself that perhaps they don’t even realize they are so unkind, so judgmental, so harsh.
Let me state for the record that there were many positives through the years. However, those were basically limited to material things. Money. Cars. Stuff. Help with financial things. Almost always, however, with strings attached. And the strings could be pulled and the gift taken back. Yes, there were many positives, but the sting of never being accepted for who you are outweighs that. I’d rather have been dirt poor and accepted and encouraged than have things and be under a constant barrage of criticism. To this day, for them, it seems money trumps all.
I struggled with anxiety throughout most of my teen years thanks to the hyper-criticism. Any dreams of pursuing my passion rather than my pension were frowned upon because, after all, I had to be “practical”. The intense criticism of all the choices I made created a lot of angst even later in life. The constant negativity and criticism seemed to never end, and here, even in my 50s, still hasn’t ended. Actually, yes it has, as I am ending it now.
Oftentimes, they displayed (and still do) great cruelty in the way they speak about other people (a neighbor whose yard isn’t pristine enough; a person at the hospital not dressed nice enough; a person whom they believed made poor financial choices; the guy with an old, broken down car in his driveway; the neighbors that have nice stuff and don’t seem to ever work so they must be dealing drugs; me). The sad thing is, they believe what they’re saying is right, justified, irrefutable. If you dare to say you disagree, you’re reminded how you don’t know anything or how easily fooled you are.
Yes, they love me. I know that. But that habit of wounding me so casually? So often? So mindlessly? They never, ever seemed to realize it. And when brought to their attention, it was met with defiance and scorn.
They have lost many friends through the years because of their behavior. To them, it was always everyone else’s fault. Never theirs!
These two people and I may never speak to each other again. I just don’t want…let me rephrase that…I will no longer accept it. Nothing is ever good enough unless it fits in the little square box. The job I have? Not good enough - should have stayed at the other one even if I was miserable. After all, money is more important than dignity. My beard? Looks awful. That’s the first comment I got on a recent visit. Not “hello”. Not “How are you?” No, the usual “you don’t look like I want you to look so I’m going to begin my hyper-criticism now”. This time, I am giving up. Finally.
I no longer have it in me to do this anymore. I’m throwing in the towel. It’s over. I’m done listening to the same old, tired, worn out justifications I’ve invented for myself through the years so many times before to continue being on the wrong end of hyper-criticism. Perhaps I was just too damned pathetic and weak. Perhaps I allowed it for years because I simply accepted it as they are who the hell they are.
But…now I'm done.