Saturday, March 26, 2011

I don't want to remember anything

December 15, 1987

I just don't care. It shouldn't matter. You'll be okay, Sue. Just don't care - it doesn't matter if Cris wants to fool around. If he does, it's his own problem - its's funny how I always write down what I think I should feel - it's like a subtle brain washing technique.

Julie called today, kind of accused me of giving Amy lice - jesus christ. She must have said "okee dokee" and "any who" about 60 times.

December 20, 1987

We had a party last night. My friends and Cris's. Eric and Colleen, Scott and Tracy - oh, and Keri too. They came besides - the only people who knew us both. Lisanne brought egg rolls. She freaked out as I did. I was talking to Lisa and David, they are back from Chicago. It was good to see them. Char came also. She was really scared. She has really gotten pretty gross. I wonder if she has always been like that. Peggie was here too. I wonder if Cris really has slept with her. She's always nice, but, you, know, it's like, I bet Cris feels her up every chance he gets and Lisanne too. Gross! He's like got three women at the same time. I am pretty well decided now on what to do. It's like - I really like Cris (he is talking on the phone right now with Lisanne) (funny how Keri and Lisanne make a better couple than Cris and Lisanne) (this seems like a father-son rivalry.)

Well anyways - Cris is okay, and all, but it is extremely gross and disgusting behavior how he sleeps with other women. I thought of a new year's resolution - not making love until my birthday. But then I like fucked Cris the other night. I wish I wouldn't get so excited - I guess I'll have to learn restraint. I wasn't going to go with Cris and the kids for Xmas eve at Eric and Colleen's but after talking to them, maybe I will. I've been getting back into the book "necessary losses". It is really good. I plan to go see Pat Mulvehill tomorrow. I hope he can help.

I feel pretty manipulated by Cris. It just isn't a good thing. He's saying things like, "if only you changed little things, I could be happy." He wants me to be better about spending money and keeping the house clean. What is he going to do? Think? And then today, he says, "God damn it, there is macaroni and cheese in the refrigerator - why don't you ever look? You told me to save it!" And then I make beets besides and he yells again, "Selfish! Why didn't you look, there are beans in the fridge! I guess you over-estimated your intelligence." What a manipulative bastard.

He's telling me that we could be good together now after all this pain and suffering and mind-fucking games we've been playing. I think it sucks! He's only doing it because I'm seriously considering ending it all. Then he has the gall to say that when I think about Sean or Russ in a sexual fantasy sort of way is just as bad as Cris fucking and romancing and telling other women that he loves them. BULLSHIT!

He thinks that every relationship between members of the opposite sex has sexual undertones. That every man thinks about every woman and vice-versa.

Well, then - that seems not a rule but an exception. It really pisses me off. Well what I'm thinking is that I should like get a bearing on myself - understand my insecurities, my values/morals, my hopes/desires, my dependency problems and get better. I will never be happy, no matter what, in a relationship with Cris while he is carrying on extramarital relationships - EVER - PERIOD.

If I get better, then I will be happy with myself, If Cris changes, maybe he will be part of my life - if he never changes, I will be happy to toss him to the hungry lionesses ready to devour him. And that's sad for Cris because I know he can never be happy behaving like that for any prolonged period. But I really need to look out for myself.. Hey, I can already feel the return of myself. I was worried that I could never regain those eight years I spent with Cris - but I know I am wrong. I will have something. I still know who I am - and I've been here since I was a child - I just hide below the surface.

December 21, 1987

I am at Powderhorn Park. I took the kids here to slide. They are having fun on the hockey rink right now. I went to see Pat today. I want to write down things I want to remember before I forget.
  • I might be really upset with my mother.
  • I want to relate to my parents like they were real people.
  • I am bad.
  • I am ashamed.
  • I stay in this bad relationship to hurt my mother (?).
  • I know it's rational to get out of this relationship but emotions keep me here.
  • Cris and I relate to each other as both parents and children.
I got home to the most unpleasant smell. Cris had burned his "sachet". I guess this means he doesn't love me anymore. Oh what a feeling. But I know burning doesn't mean a thing. It's scary to think he has been casting "spells" on me.

Oh well, good riddance.

Oh, I remember, Pat said I'm not ready to get rid of Cris yet, but I will. I wonder what it takes to be ready.

December 22, 1987

I am feeling anxiety. Cris said he hates me and will leave as soon as he is better (he has a cold). He also tells me I will never be a success - never have any money, or have a house. I tell myself this isn't true. But I will of course freak out if he leaves. But I know I will be okay. I have a plan of action.

1. Be calm
2. Look for work
3. Call about daycare
4. Call about Latchkey
5. Call your friends

I think I'll take the kids to the zoo today when I am done calling.

January 23, 1988

I haven't wanted to write anything in this journal. I don't want to remember anything. I don't want to whine or anything.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Wow, there it is. The end of my marriage. Finally. I let this torture draw out for 2-1/2 years. I tolerated Cris's affairs. I told myself he would change. He never has. He has had a series of relationships since the end of our marriage. Several long term relationships with women, quite similar to me. He likes his women vulnerable and dependent. He has cheated on every one of them.

Currently he lives with a woman, whom he calls his "wife" but he will never marry her. She drinks to pretend that Cris isn't sexually active with the girls whom he brings home to "photograph". He is a dirty old man. Once, one of my students said she had run into him at an Art Crawl. He had given her his card and asked her to call to schedule a photo shoot. To say I am creeped out is an understatment. Here is a link to his website. I am disgusted by his work. 

I know now that I could not leave Cris, nor ask him to leave because of my Asperger's need to not change. I like things to stay the same. Different is scary. I don't like changes in my routines. I am resentful and anxiety ridden when something unexpected arises. I like to eat the same things, drink my coffee with the same coffee creamer, drink the same soda, eat the same breakfast, leave home at the same time. drive the same way, routines make me safe. I do not like change.

I hate change so much - I could tolerate a party with my sham-husband - inviting his girlfriends to parade around one another and before me. I could tolerate being scolded about not reading labels on cans, or over-salting a hot dish, or breaking a cup or plate. Although, he could throw things across the room and shatter them - namely a plate filled with the over-salted hotdish. Sure it sounds funny now - but it was terrifying. I never lived with anyone violent before. 

My parents were kind, gentle and firm. They were fair. The punishment fit the crime. They tried to encourage us to be good people. Cris didn't have a horrible upbringing - but he resented his stepfather for replacing him at age 9. 

My adult children tell me that Cris still, to this day, still bad-mouths me. I have not even spoken to him since my grandson was born (that was almost 2 years ago.) His mother believes I have destroyed him. Trust me, he did that to himself. I feel nothing but shame for having stayed with him so long after discovering his unfaithfulness. Wait, I don't really feel anything for him. He is nothing to me. 

Thursday, March 24, 2011

I am curious about how other people think


It's funny - you really don't know what you want. You can't even write your thoughts down. There is a blockage. I even call myself you. I think each thing as I write it down..slowly saying each word as it appears yet knowing what will come next. You say it right before you finish like rub(necks)ber.

I really analyze myself. That must be where I am different from a lot of people, I think of my siblings.

Hey, I could write anything down about Julie and Pete and Steve and Julie and Cindy and John, about a  lot of people. Cris just came sniffing loudly from the bathroom. He will never read this. So I can say anything I want. ooooh...diaphram please (clap clap)

I have always admired your gentleness.

Being the man who wears the dress, all I desire is a house husband.

December 15, 1987

These are things I need to ask myself.

What do I want? More specifically, what do I want from Cris? He is no good. If he wanted to live happily ever after it might be another story but experience shows this is not the case. Cris has had lovers for so long, all of ianthe's life. He will not change. He may be remorseful about leaving us - oh well - not my problem.

I want to go to school but I really need to become independent. Maybe I should get a job and not go to school. If I worked 7-3 it may be okay. I would need daycare for the kids only. i could go to school next fall. Cris has to get out of my life.

I mustn't hurt him intentionally. Matt, who works at the media center is married and has a child. I wonder if he "looks around" like Cris the fink.

Oooh look at me...I looked so young. Oh god do I feel awful to have said that...oh god you stupid cow.

Ooh, look at that! Oh, I was so thin!

God get the damn camera outta my face god you stupid cow.

Start 003617

(I can only guess this is in response to a video being shown in class - the instructor - a visiting artist - was always showing her own work, and I didn't much care for her)

Having paused for such a long time from writing in this blog over the anxiety of the end of my first marriage seems so silly to me right now. I did feel terrible anxiety when I stopped. I was so afraid. All the feelings and shame flooding back. Worry about what I actually wrote of the experience in my journal. I should have known I would gloss over the pain. I do tend to do that. Leave no tracks. I hate records of pain. I really do. Since I had invaded Cris's privacy by reading his journals when I became suspicious of his prolonged absences and his emotional distance, I believed that at any time, someone could find my journal and read it - even though I claim the exact opposite in the first entry above. I know that if I were to journal today, about my daily emotional roller coaster - actually just calm to shame - to calm - to righteous superiority - I would require a lock box to store it. I would require it - not because anyone would even be interested in the contents - but I wouldn't be able to say what is really in here. 

Sure I speak freely after a post, and analyze myself in present context, or in historical - but that isn't the same thing. I can speak freely of the despair I feel often, of my loneliness and anger at not being able to be alone enough. I can speak of obsessions and preoccupations. I can speak of my emotional pain. These are all things I would say out loud, to a friend - there are a few of you who stop by to read that know this.

I am curious about how other people think. I have always been aware that my thoughts were a little out of sync with those around me. I love that I state it in my journal in 1987. I bet I could grab out even older journals from my box and find the same words. I am different. Everyone else does not think.

I wonder what it would be to live life without the "projected self" - that curious Theory of Mind being natural and matter of course. For those of you who are not quite sure what I mean by this, I exist in this world and project myself upon others - everyone. So anything anyone does, I read it as if I were the one saying or doing it. So, everyone is me. I project my beliefs, intentions, desires, and knowledge to those around me. When people act in ways that challenge my understanding of them (me) then I get all riled up - hence the indignant self-righteousness feeling. I am trying to entangle myself from the world by purposefully developing a more expanded Theory of Mind that will take into account that everyone else has their own experiences and feelings and beliefs and understandings and I need to keep that in mind when interacting with them. Okay- that *sounds* like I know it - but I only know the words. I am good with words.

Yesterday, I was talking with my therapist. I told him I was interested in two different emotional experience that I often have - self-righteous indignation and shame. That pretty much sums up my personal hell. Since Minnesota decided that it would be a good idea to dump several inches of melting snow on the freeways at rush hour, leaving well in advance of my appointment still made me 35 minutes late. So with 20 minutes - he said we had enough time for the "self-righteousness". 

People who know me on Facebook, know I have "triggers". I get set off on rants for apparently no reason (well, I know the reason). My doctor was saying, "Most people are..." he trailed off, so I guessed the missing word "stupid?" - "No, not stupid, most people are more forgiving of others foibles". He told me that most people don't care if someone missed their point and can brush things off. They decide that on a scale of zero=it doesn't matter at all to 10=I have to address this right away. That FB posts are zeros for most people. Hmmm. Strange. No Seriously. I was confused. I still am. We didn't have time to finish the conversation. Really? Do neurotypical people really not care? Don't they feel the adrenalin rush? Can't they feel it? Or do they and then they choose to ignore it?

Tears are filling my eyes right now. That is strange. I think I am crying because I really don't "get" it. It makes no sense - I cannot "crack the code". I tried to talk to my son about it - he is the most like me - he didn't get it either. So, we are no help to one another. I don't know what to do. Maybe my husband can explain it better to me.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

This post hurts me to write

November 21, 1987

It's kind of funny. Cris is this pained person trying desperately to have his cake and eat it too. He wnts lots of women - always will have them.

I am making him leave - can't say I didn't try. Now he will live with Lisanne. She is so happy and "my gosh, he's so cute!" She doesn't know...

I feel really good.


My back still hurts.
Cris is back home but it is different. He is not my husband anymore. It is more like we are friends who have had a spat and we are trying hard not to ruin our friendship.

Oh well, I think I must have the house and kids. Cris gets much too angry. I may get angry but I never hurt the kids.

December 3, 1987

Staying late night to edit my video. Laid on the floor staring out the skylights. I am afraid to write things down. Don't want anything stupid to come out that I will laugh at later. I slept with Cris last night. I am sorry [that] I did. He is very selfish or should I say lustful and not loving. I shouldn't sleep with him anymore. I'm always sorry when I do.

I went for a walk with Sean and got high. I would really like to have a fling with him. But I don't know how to make a pass. Oh Sue, all in good time...

December 5, 1987

Stayed over night at Steve and Julie's house - pretty anxiety ridden time. I feel in the way. I bought a book "Earth Power" for Cris last night when I met Steve's family at Northtown [Mall]. Got the baby food jars that Julie has saved for me. I want to fill them for Cris. Now I'm all done with his Christmas shopping. Now it's Mom and Dad and Mom and Dave. Maybe I'll do some prints for them. I want to plan a party. Cris wants to pick the winter solstice but I'd rather pick a different day. Oh well...all ends in love and war.


I split the mahogany. I didn't drill the holes. What? - maybe ten more minutes...

Read "The Gift"again and then give him back himself.


It's funny - you really don't know what you want. You can't even write your thoughts down. There is a blockage. I even call myself you. I think each thing as I write it down...