There are times, when I feel like an island unto myself. Married twice & both failed. Like organ transplants gone wrong; we just didn't work. It was liking trying to put a kidney where a heart should have gone. Both times. Ok, maybe the second time was more like trying to put an ass where a head should have gone, but you get the point. Either way, when I want to wallow in my failure, I can sit in a bathtub filled to the brim with misery and chardonnay and think about what a failure I am and how my kids must be so ashamed of their scarlet mother. But then I stop and think about the several other people I personally know that have experienced the same thing and remind myself that statistically my kids should be able to find at least one other kid to sit with in the lunch room. Right?
I am now in the midst of an attempt at relationship #3. This one is different. How do I know you ask? Well, Jason (that's my boyfriend, not my therapist) and I have discussed it and these are the points we've decided are critical in setting this one apart from the others:
- I'm 33 not 17 and making all the decisions on my own and not under duress or need to move out of my parents house.
- I'm not knocked up and trying to do the honorable thing.
- We've been good friends for over 2 years and took the time to get to know each other's crap before really committing to anything too serious.
- He's fully aware (and reminded at least monthly) that I come with a matching set of designer baggage that I'm not likely to unpack anytime in the next 20 years.
- He's met both of my ex's. He can handle ex #1's arrogant assumptions about how we "should" be living our life with amazing ease and gets along pretty well with ex #2.
- He knows the rules about my pillows & toothbrush and follows them.
- He is absolutely amazing with all 4 of the kids and they adore him.
- He is absolutely amazing...period.
Right now, he's not working. He's been looking for work since we were both let go from our jobs on the same day, from the same company last October. I've been working as a nanny for 3 months now and we've made some big changes in our lives to keep life moving. For the most part, we deal with it; but some days are harder than others. Yesterday was one of those and I may have handled it poorly. In the midst of texting back and forth, we were talking about the burden of me having the only income & I told him to shut up. The following conversation ensued:
Jason: "Sorry I don't have a job yet. I feel like I'm putting all the financial responsibility on you and that's not fair."
Me: "Shut up."
Jason: "Shut up what? Are you tired of hearing me talk about it and want more action? Or shut I'm being stupid?"
Me: "Just shut up...you talk too much!"
Jason: "Ouch."When he got home a few hours later after teaching karate, he was very quiet. I knew what I'd done. I knew it when I did it. I was exhausted and frustrated and have been working really long hours; but it was no excuse for doing nothing more than just being a bitch. What I should have said was;
"You are being stupid. You will find a job soon enough; in the meantime, we are doing ok. We've made it this far and we'll just keep doing what we've been doing."
This morning, after I read my friend's email. I realized, yet again, that I am really lucky to have him (in spite of myself), and that sometimes, I talk too much.