I need to disentangle.
I need to stop taking walking towards him only to find he has, even without knowing, laid a very simple trap for me to fall through. And I go down through the same old dirt every time, dust and anger coating my tongue. Blood sometimes too as I bite down to temper my retaliation.
The fact that he is not really aware of what he does, makes it harder for me to recognise. There's no preemptive signal to guide me. I am travelling safely and then I am gone. I am weak, susceptible, playing the victim. I am an open, trusting and simple. Or perhaps lying to myself. He's labelled me a cheat, he's labelled me selfish, a bitch. Who am I to say otherwise.
What I need to understand. No, more than understand, believe with every fibre, is that our two realities don't need to align. His structured view of the world, borne from a strongly indoctrined and stringent world view doesn't allow for my different way of seeing the world. When he judges he does so with convinction that he and he alone is right. I have no such convictions, being fluid, full of somersaults and fence sitting behaviours.
I am told it is bullshit that I am attending a work function in lieu of watching my son's football match. Which I normally attend every week. And see my child for an hour. Before he goes off again with his father. I am told that it is uncomprehensible that I would even imagine doing such a thing. And my explanation of the night's activities is met with deep sarcasm. I will never meet his expectations and his judgements are always harsh. He points his finger at me in the most veiled of ways. I am left with the feeling that nothing I have ever done has been good enough. I shouldn't give him this power. I must shrug my shoulders and think, this man, the one I lived alongside with for so long, is entitled to his judgements. My skin must grow thick, rough and unattractive. I am made of air now and everything seems to strike at me in the most direct of lines. No resisting force to counteract. My tolerance is a bottomless lake created through earthly shifts. Tectonic plate type movements.
As a fire sign, you would think I would just burn the recurrent verbal abuses to ash as they come my way. But my fire is a constructive warming force. Passion for life that raises me in the morning. The epicentre of my life force is fire filled. Which is another way I suppose of saying that I have a fire in my belly. None of my words or expressions in this blog have been unique. This is supposed to be about improving my writing but I'm getting caught in the therapeutic process of expressing my pain. There aren't too many avenues for such things. Perhaps prettier language will come with time and patience and hardwork.
So a mantra for myself today is required. I am a beautiful and earthy woman and mother. I will love and tend to my children in my unique way. I will not give them a pantomime of what others think a mother should be. I will give them me, and nothing less.