I first saw Les Miserables when I was in 8th grade, I think. All told, I’ve seen it performed live (at least) 3 times. I did enjoy the movie, but you really can’t compare. It’s like comparing apples (les pommes) and potatoes (les pommes de terre). But I digress.
Les Mis is fantastic. I love so SO many of those songs. Particularly On My Own because there was always someone I was “pretending he’s beside me.”
But here on Martin Luther King Day, thinking of his incredibly powerful speech also made me think of my title song. Just, wow. Here are the full lyrics if you want to sing along. It’s really hitting home for me as I think about the dissolution of my marriage.
I also got really angry today. Anger. Whoa. I think I’d been storing it up for a while.
So I dropped the baby off with Seth this evening, as I do many evenings, so I could go to my women’s meeting. Thank HP I was on my way to a meeting!
He asked me that if he were to sell the house, would I help him get it ready to sell. One thing I’ve become more aware of, thanks to therapy, is how I don’t deal well with ambiguity, and I often feel rushed and pressured to make a decision when someone asks me something. Probably the more triggering the person (Mom: “Where do you want the bread?” Me: “OMG I DON’T KNOW! Out is fine!”) or the subject (selling the house we bought together to build our life and family together) … the more pressure I feel about a decision. Good for me, at least, I only said “Um, maybe,” adding “I don’t know how much help I would be.” Trying not to be flustered.
Then I asked him why he would want to sell the house. He said it would take some of the financial pressure off (granted) and he’s not sure he would want to live there. I was afraid he meant he’d want to move away from this city. He clarified that he doesn’t think he wants to live in the house “where my marriage failed.”
I instantly wanted to punch him in the face, or at least scream at him. Fortunately, one of us was holding Emma, so better sense prevailed. The house where his marriage failed? YOU MEAN THE HOUSE WHERE YOU FUCKED OTHER WOMEN AND BLEW UP YOUR MARRIAGE? All the women, whether they were anonymous, affairs, or the ones you PAID? (He now alleges he only ever explicitly paid one. Whatever. Be it 1 or 100. Not the point.) All the ones before and during our marriage? You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, and your marriage just failed??
FUCK. YOU. buddy.
Now, I know I am not blameless, by any stretch of the imagination. But, man that just rubbed me all kinds of the wrong way. But I didn’t yell, or hit him, or anything, I just said bye and left.
Then I called Cameron* (my GA sponsor) from a convenience store parking lot. She calmed me a little. Then I threw a private temper tantrum in my car, which involved much profanity, and beating up the steering wheel. Ok, there wasn’t much diversity in the profanity, just a lot of F word, at varying volumes and intensity.
In a way, it felt good to finally get angry at the fucker.
I went to the meeting, and shared about my anger. It was a good meeting. And afterward, one of the other women came over and chatted with me. She told me EXACTLY what I needed to hear.
She asked me what’s underneath that anger. Oh. Crap. Pain. And under the pain? Sadness. That’s the emotion that the big bad scary anger is masking. So, no, yelling at him would not be the answer.
“Nobody eats M&M’s for the candy coating.” You have to get to the good stuff, underneath that hard candy shell.
And that, dear blogoverse, was exactly what I needed to hear.
I have two more posts half-written in my head, one on Transference, and one on all the neat things I’m learning about myself in doing my SLAA Step 1. Which Cameron said is really more like a Step 4 (personal inventory), and more involved than the GA Step 4, since I’m going through my WHOLE LIFE, looking at my family of origin, and patterns in my behavior, and where they originated.
But it’s late, and I still need to write my gratitude list for Chris. Every day, at least 10 things I am grateful for. I think it’s helped me a lot, and I’d encourage the practice. 🙂
Edit to Add:
P.S. You fucked this shit up, fix up the god damn house yourself! You fucked someone else in that bed, now lie in it!
And I’m done now.