I had promised myself to blog once a day, not as a chore but as catharsis and closure for whatever day I endured. I failed, but perhaps not without learning a lesson. My days have been nothing but stressful. I believe blogging once a day is what I need, if only to reduce my blood pressure.
Yesterday, I was in tears. It’s no secret in my household that I am afraid of raw meat. It’s a silly fear, but I can’t stand the idea of touching it. So it comes as a shock that, in a fit of anger over me telling him to please not eat them, my stepfather hid two candy bars I purchased behind a bag of raw hamburger in the freezer. I was already angry that he had hid them (a fact my mother shared with me when I asked her if she had taken them), but I was absolutely infuriated that he would go to such cruel measures to seek revenge over a simple directive. Was it so horrible that I had asked him to stay away from my chocolate, especially when I was in a period (no pun intended) of pure chocolate craving? Am I wrong to think that his actions were both uncalled for and cruel?
Although he had set out to cause irritation and anger, my stepfather actually brought me and my mother closer together in an alliance against him. He had yelled at her the same morning for moving from the bed to a chair in the living room because Diddles (our Australian caddle dog) has taken to wetting the bed, and my mother was, for some reason, hesitant to sleep in dog urine.
I don’t understand his reasoning. Is it so hard to have a bad attitude in private? When I’m having a bad day, yes, I tend to be moody, but I don’t intentially try to bring everyone around me down. What does that accomplish? It’s the mentality of a five-year-old: If he can’t have happiness, nobody can. Cut us some slack.
Cue sigh.
Note: The next two paragraphs are for me. Most of you won’t know who or what I’m talking about, so just ignore the following section. I won’t take any offense.
I think the worst part of yesterday was Bill* and his lack of happiness. There’s another man I can’t fully understand. If you’re unhappy in a relationship, leave. If you’ve been unhappy for a substantial length of time, nothing will change. And if there are children involved, you’re only hurting them by staying unhappy. It’s like invasion of the pod people when he’s with her. He’s not the same man. He’s this miserable, tired, droopy guy. Night and day.
Call me selfish, but I’d like to have a few minutes with him, just to sit him down and pick his brain, maybe enlighten him. But what the hell do I know about relationships anyway? Right out of the gate, I picked two losers and a man who couldn’t be more off-limits, even if he is gorgeous and witty and interested in me (why?). But I refuse to throw my hands up with Bill. Too often, I reject before being rejected, and I’d hate to miss this opportunity with him, as complicated as it might get.
I’m ready to take responsibility for my adult self, even if my adult self is very, very stupid.
*Names changed to protect the innocent.