Secret Blogs and Layers of Security: The New Normal.

Things are interesting. In the last few weeks, it’s been a nonstop fight in this house. I’m drained. This election….my God. It has brought out the worst in everyone. Both sides. I have my own strong opinions, but for the most part I keep them to myself. When I do share, I don’t push or insult. I think people are crazy for liking Trump at all, but hey, not my life and not my choice.

My husband has been shoving his ideology down my throat. Calling me stupid, brainwashed, evil, a “progressive,” not a good Christian. He even does it to the kids. My kids are not the doormat type, so they stand up to it and he tears them down or threatens to send them to bed. He tells me in a hateful tone, “This is all your fault! You are causing division in this house and teaching them this liberal shit.” I hate it. It has ruined every dinner for a month. Much more than that. Life in general.

When I actually voted it got worse. Screaming, getting in my face, humiliating me in front of my kids. So much hate. After the election he went nuts and said Trump is chosen by God for a time such as this and WE WILL PRAY FOR HIM AS A FAMILY! I asked (because I love to poke a bear sometimes), “So when Obama was president for 8 years, wasn’t HE chosen by God and we were to pray for him, instead of you calling him the antichrist, a Muslim, a terrorist, the “n” word, etc?”

He wild-eyed screamed in my face and scared me to death for the first time ever, called me divisive, and told me I was shutting down my tumblr acct right now, because it was brainwashing me and making me a liberal feminist and baby killer. Then, he went upstairs and locked me out of the stairwell. We have a converted duplex that’s now a single family home, so the stairs have a door to separate the floors. He locked me out of the upstairs. Before he did, I threw a canister of parmesan cheese at him, nailed him in the back, and it exploded sending cheese everywhere.

Now, I’ve been sitting on some screenshots of him sending flirty and bad messages to a woman on fb messenger. They were for another time when I could say, “I’m leaving and here’s why.” Petty, I know. But you need to understand I’m not financially ready to leave. Not even close. And when I do, I need him to know it’s his fault and he will work with me. (Backstory…he’s a serial cheater who keeps fucking up and apologizing) He very well could try to take my kids, leave me with nothing. Granted it’s not up to him and wouldn’t work, but he could try, because he’s that type of a person, and will make my life very hard and expensive in a divorce. Those screenshots were insurance for me. I know it’s a game I’m playing, but sometimes you need to play that game to not get fucked over. I would never go after him. I’m not that type. I just want leverage and I want out without a battle, that’s all.

He scared me so much, had the kids crying, and I wasn’t sure if it was going to be safe here tonight (physically yes, but mentally no), so I sent the pics to him. I had to turn the tables and move the power to my side. I had to humble him to diffuse this shit. I sent him the pics. He didn’t respond for over an hour. When he did, he simply said, “Sorry.” I felt like I could breathe again finally.

The next day, after work he said, “Let me explain.” Great, give me excuses. He called it a “relapse.” The women were relentlessly messaging him and sending him things. He couldn’t help it. (oh he admitted to another I didnt know about. Great.) Hilarious. But, in marriage counseling he adamantly denied having a problem such as addiction, just he wasn’t happy. Now he calls it a “relapse.” Whatever makes you feel better.

I told him when I found the messages I wasn’t even mad or hurt. That’s how much I don’t care anymore. He doesn’t get it. He thinks there is still love here. He “loves me so much.” I should be crying, screaming, in agony, but I’m not. He should be very concerned that I’m not upset. It means my heart can’t be broken because I’m not in love.

Then came the sugary sweet husband.

There is a cycle that happens with him, and after being in this exact situation with him at least 5 times (yes, embarrassing for me, I know) I know it well. Yet, I fall for it every time. It’s my nature to want to trust, to want to be happy and secure, to he a peacemaker, and to give the benefit of the doubt as much as possible. It’s pathetic. Ultimately being a good person will get you in the end. He started his overcompensating for being the worst husband ever. Talked to me like his sweet little baby, hugged me too much. All the while, I’m emotionless and expressionless getting a bear hug that I won’t return back. It’s like I got kidnapped and I have to play along to stay alive, but I am a terrible actress. He’s vacuuming the floor, doing dishes, telling me to “take a break,” putting the kids to bed, asking if I want to snuggle and watch a movie later. Asking are we having SEX TONIGHT? I mean, I’ve already been figuratively fucked over, right?

Meanwhile, I’m seething. Being extra nice to someone is insulting. You can’t be nice or helpful any day for years, but now that you are in trouble, you can pull energy and care our of your ass to be super-husband. No thanks.

But, when you never get this care, a little goes a long way and you start to fall for it. Inside you know it’s all bullshit. Total bullshit. But your emotions are excited. Wow, this is nice. Maybe I’m a bad person and he’s trying and I should accept this as him trying and caring? You are fighting with yourself, saying, “Don’t fall for it, dummy! You know this cycle!” But, you do. I don’t throw the word abuse around lightly, but I see the abusive nature of this cycle. The trickery, the deflection, the lies, the guilt, the manipulation, and the different personalities. But I can’t stop it and I can’t stop falling for it and doubting myself.

At worst, I figured I’m not happy, but with him being nice and good, I can breathe easy for a while. Maybe a month! The house will be peaceful, and that’s something.

It didn’t last days. He had a serious talk with me about my tumblr blog. He was “ashamed of what he was reading.” He “doesn’t know who I am.” I’m using “bad language.” He’s concerned because I follow “liberal people, some gay and transgender people, people who post Black Lives Matter things.” He’s worried that “I’m being influenced.” He said he doesn’t understand how I can spend 6 years reading feeds of people’s lives I don’t know, saying none of them are real friends to me, I’m in a fantasy land and I checked out of my real one. I’m sympathetic of people’s sinful ways of living and now I’m a progressive liberal. It just kept going and I was laughing at him. When I started to defend myself, he said, “That’s what I’m talking about!” Because, I told him to stop talking down to me! Because he’s the head of the house! Because his wife is not letting him have power over him.

I blocked him for a few days and he was so mad. He went on and on about how I said “eat shit” in a post and how disgusting it was to see me saying that stuff. Really? Mr 4 affairs and 30 plus sexting things? When I brought that up he said, “See, you do this. You take the focus off you and try to put it on me. We are talking about YOUR problem.” Isn’t that what he was doing also? Plus blogging and saying a few bad words is not a problem. I don’t have a problem. My problem is I don’t have the courage to leave.

Even though I fell for the ruse for a few days, I woke back up. I’m playing along and taking care of me and the kids, but I’m awake and I still hate him, and I still want out. He is so full of shit and manipulation.

I can understand how having a blog and over sharing, or who you align yourself with, CAN be a problem in a marriage. Trust me. I see lots of inappropriate stuff going on with guys and girls on tumblr. Lots. Lots of married people playing a dangerous game. I myself, have private conversations that I delete, not because they are bad, but because I just don’t want to explain it. Sometimes, I like the attention. I’m not perfect, but not posting sexy photos and getting hit on. But yeah, I can see the case for deleting a social media account to focus on a marriage. The things he is mad about are no big thing. I write funny blurbs about the days events, the kids, etc and I vent about bad days and my MIL. So, I’m not being a terrible person, I’m just being human. I feel like I don’t get to be who I am otherwise. Facebook has my kids teachers family, and some of our pastors on it. How are you supposed to be real with those people reading? I don’t want to write something silly and see people who I know who read it and wonder if they think I’m a weirdo or bad mom. That’s why I started the blog. To be myself, unapologetically. And myself is a great person with life struggles, not this hellion, rebellious wife he thinks I’m being.

Where I’m at is I DON’T CARE anymore. It’s over. I’m here in this marriage for an indefinite time, but I’m done inside. I don’t have lots of friends, just because I don’t have time, I’m shy, and it’s exhausting. If my writing on a website caused a divide in a marriage that was good, and we respected eachother, and I cared about the other person’s feelings, I’d delete it. But I don’t. It makes me feel social. It makes me feel sane where everything in this house is insane. It fills a social need, I do have friends there, I do care about people there, and I get support there. So, no I’m not deleting it any time soon.

There’s nothing to replace what it gives. My marriage and husband won’t improve and provide me with support, security, friendship, and a place to vent. I realize how stupid this all sounds, but it’s true! It’s therapeutic! I’m not drinking that much or doing drugs. I’m writing. I’m myself where I never get to be myself.

Now, he’s on it again after not letting it go. I’ve deleted things. I’m imagining him screenshotting posts to show someone, like a marriage counselor, so the focus is on me and my “backsliding, sinning ways” hahaha.

Now, I have to censor myself even more. He took my therapeutic safe place and shit on it. No one reads my Medium and he doesn’t know about it, so the story now goes here. Level 2 blogging security. Classified journal entry. If you found it…shhhhh. This is stuff I’d tell a therapist if I had one, hence my name.