Archive for the marriage Category

Made

Posted in marriage, poetry, Uncategorized with tags on July 24, 2016 by jilly9er

We had it made

But it was not meant to be made

It wanted to be in the making.

We fucking ruined it.

So here we are

Posted in marriage, poetry with tags , , , , , , on June 8, 2016 by jilly9er

So here we are, only you are not here.

It is just me, as you, and my father, as me.

And all over again I am experiencing your

Sideways comments and backlashery, as me,

As my mouth and brain take on your persona and direct it all again,

For the first time ever,

Towards my father, as me,

Who mumbles and mutters and whispers and tip-toes

Around me, as you.

And all over again, we are here, only

You are not here, so it is just me, knowing.

Knowing, and not being able to say a thing to you, as you,

Nor to stop the me that is now you.

Nothing can comfort my father, as me, because, as me,

I too was incapable of seeing what I was doing.

All the time I thought I was not doing, not doing.

So here we are, and I wish you were here, instead of him,

So that I could be me, as me now, and you could be you,

As however you want to be,

And I could accept you.

And I could finally accept me, too.

that psycho look i get

Posted in abuse, anger, marriage, rage, resentment with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 24, 2015 by jilly9er

I don’t know why it seems psychotic to feel the kind of rage I’m feeling tonight (and off and on this whole marriage and beyond). It’s human, or so I believe. But when I get that look in my eyes, it’s instant. She sees it, I feel it, and I know it’s 100% anger. I could kill in that moment, if the moment could be stretched into more moments…and there were no four-legged witnesses.

Now, I can barely kill a fly these days without weeping over the decision, so please take this with a grain of salt if you are a courtroom drama watcher like me. This will not become evidence. But it can’t go on.

I can’t go on this way. It’s going to kill me, or at least I’m going to hurt someone or break something extremely valuable and end up in prison. Or a locked psych ward.

I should’ve gone to that AA meeting tonight. Why do I continue to choose to stay home and spend time with her, when spending time with her can often make things worse? If it doesn’t make things worse, it certainly doesn’t make things better. It never can make things better. If it could, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

If I had time and space to watch Netflix with her, I could’ve called my brand new sponsor. But I put it off, honestly, because I didn’t want to miss spending a precious few hours hanging out with her – even while knowing that would not help and would likely make me feel worse. And I somehow still believe or feel I need complete and utter privacy and silence to make a simple phone call. I feel I have no privacy and no freedom when she is around.

Is this the definition of codependency? Am I a sick puppy or what? Are these the effects of living with an abusive person for so long? Complete erosion of self-esteem and confidence and clarity? Am I left with confusion and self-doubt and fear, feeling trapped and crazy until… Until what? When? When will I bust out of this cage? When will I do what I know will help me?

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of this constant contact and living situation. And I need help to get out of this crazed head of mine, before it becomes my permanent cell.