We're all mad here…some just more so than others
Me, chopping vegetables in the kitchen: I can’t decide whether I should be insulted by what you just said about me.
The Engineer: You know I love you in all your forms and all your ways.
Me: You’re not just saying that because I have a sharp knife in my hand, are you?
TE shrugs, gives me a little smile, and wanders out of the room. Smart man, that one.
The Engineer: What do you want to do next year on our anniversary?
Me: Rob a bank?
TE: yeah? okay. We’ll probably die.
Me: Eh…we had a good run. The kids might miss us though.
TE: maybe they’ll become bank robbers too.
Me: Yes, our deaths would just encourage them to become the best bank robbers ever. We’re doing them a favor really. Ace parenting for us!
It’s good that the kids have my husband.
Wandering around the museum, kid points at something.
The Engineer: blah blah blah actual facts
Me: ohh see this! This is an ancient Egyptian spaghetti dinner party. And that? That’s a snakicorn! Very rare Egyptian creature.
So this morning I sent my lovely friend a quote that made me think of her. The sentiment was basically that it’s great having a friend who will celebrate the big events in your life but it’s even more awesome having a friend that celebrates when you get out of bed and shower when you’re depressed. This is my friend who gets me through and through because she has her own dealings with depression and anxiety.
She fired back a “Your you is awesome!” and I smiled and went through my day. She’s started a new job today….
Oh shit….
Did I just send my friend a quote that essentially says hey yeah you’re awesome for getting a new job but I’m even more awesome because I got out of bed because I’m a fucking basket case right now?
Yes, yes I did.
Asshole.
So now that her work day is done, I sent her a follow up message that was a hey my brain gremlins have told me I’m an asshole for sending you that message earlier because it sorta seems like a passive aggressive fish for you to tell me I’m awesome for getting out of bed when I just meant it as I’m proud of you for getting a new job AND for getting out of bed and doing the things when shit was hard. I’m also super happy that I have a friend like you that gets how hard those things can be for me and loves me for the big and little stuff too.
I’m going to go hide in a hole now.
She responds that she totally understood the sentiment behind it. Because of course she does. And that she loves having me as a friend who gets those things about her too.
Sounds great, right? I have an awesome friend for once in my life.
Except now I’m fighting the urge to message her back and say that I didn’t mean that last message as a passive aggressive fish for more love and schmoopy words about our friendship. I just wanted her to know that I’m sorry for being an asshole. Because I do that…A LOT.
I will not send her that message so instead I’m crying and crying because I just feel like I can’t even love someone correctly. I’m so fucking broken that I don’t know how to friend or love or take a damn compliment without ripping it into shreds.
My brain hurts. My heart hurts.
I’m so afraid of what this will end up doing to the people I care about. Will they understand this obsessive side of me or will it end up causing them to step back because I’ve got my damn needy pants on and I can’t seem to take them off?
I can’t be the only parent in the world that has to write fan fic about the characters in the books you read your kids, right? It’s like kids’ books totally leave out all the good shit!
The Engineer: I once told N she reminded me of Cyndi Lauper when we were drunk. She got really mad at me.
Me: It’s because N is more metal than that.
TE: She just wishes she were metal.
Me: Well, not everyone can be me.
TE: *laughs* You’re not all metal. There’s totally some punk in you.
Me: Fair enough…
Engineer: Great job cleaning up the kitchen!
Me: Or as I like to call it an exercise in the futility of my existence.
Engineer: *pauses for a moment* That too.
She asked what we truly wanted and this was my reply.
I want to float in the middle of the ocean…held, supported, weightless, rocked gently. I’d fill the ocean with all the salt water inside me and it would thank me instead of telling me to stop. I’d let all my thoughts drift softly like clouds with none weighing me down.
Maybe then I’d come back with an answer of who I am and what I want to be doing with myself.
I felt good about my answer until someone else responded cupcakes. I could totally go for some cupcakes…
I’ve begun playing a fun new game with the Engineer. It’s called “I Heard What You Said and This is What My Brain is Telling Me You Said.”
Example 1:
Engineer: “It’s okay. Go out for a bit. You can stay out all day if you like.”
Me: “I’m stressed and you’re trying to help me by telling me to get out and do something fun. My brain, however, is telling me that you’d like to get rid of me because I’m grumpy as fuck and you don’t want to be around me. Perhaps you’ll move out while I’m gone.”
Engineer: *baffled*
Example 2:
Engineer: “What would help right now? Telling you how much I love you and can’t imagine my life without you and that I need you…”
Me: “You’re going to have to stop with the love stuff now because my brain is telling me that you somehow know I’m about to die and that’s why you’re being so nice.”
Engineer: “Oh, I thought you always assumed I was cheating on you when I was overly loving.”
Me: *glares* “Dammit, your mistress is planning on killing me and you two will run off with the kids. Or you’re going to kill the kids too!” *sobbing hysterically* seriously I started uncontrollably crying…I realize how insane I am because this is not even a real possibility, like ever.
Engineer: *resigns himself to holding me while I cry like a lunatic*
He’s a good man, that one.
See, isn’t this a fun game!
“Have you seen my…” he stops and looks down at me. He pinches the fabric over my arms.
I frown, then beam at him. “I warmed it up for you! Aren’t I the best?!”
I hand over the sweatshirt as he pretends to be mad. I help him into it and then pat his arms.
“You’re welcome!”
He sighs. “Thank you.”
Mad Tea Party Confessional 