Shit’s about to get heavy. And long. Just warning you. Do feel free to skip over this one, as it is largely for my own venting purposes and I know I tend to alienate people when I get all dark and gloomy, womp womp.
I’ve had conversations with people before about kids whose parents were divorced and how it messed them up but I “managed to emerge unscathed!” I think today is kind of the first time I’ve admitted to myself that I’m not even remotely unaffected. How can someone honestly believe that after 14 years of listening to fighting and walking on eggshells to prevent more fighting they’d move out and feel nothing? See no similarities between their past and present? It’s not realistic, and the further along I get in my own relationship the more blatant it gets that I’ve got some shit to work out. I look at the relationships of people whose parents have happy marriages, and I’m so damn jealous that they have none of the divorce kid insecurity.
Last night, after cleaning up a big soda explosion of soda I don’t even drink and two hours later expressing my annoyance, Jorge asked why I hadn’t mentioned being pissed off at the time. I said, “I’d rather clean it up than start a fight about it. If it means avoiding a confrontation, I’ll do it.”
Would Jorge have yelled at me for asking him to clean up the Dr. Pepper that exploded all over my kitchen? No. Would there have been a screaming match? NO! I can’t even remember the last time he yelled at me. The rare times we fight, it’s usually more like loud, stern talking, and it’s usually because I’m making some paranoid accusation or holding him to unfair standards.
Some of my feelings were totally justified last night. It’s not my job to clean up after him all the time, and that shit was everywhere. But some of them were divorce emotions. Total hallucinations. My mom cheated (long after they were estranged, just legally not yet divorced), so everyone will cheat. My dad yelled, so everyone will yell. If something breaks, I should clean it up immediately or there will be fighting. Avoid confrontation at your own expense. Don’t cry in front of others, it will only make them sad and uncomfortable - this is a new addition brought on by my fear that if I continue expressing my sadness at not getting the job or not losing weight fast enough or not having what _____ has, Jorge will either get mad or disappear.
I watched an episode of Biggest Loser where they saw a therapist and discussed when they started getting fat, and what the triggers might have been. I was pretty skinny as a little kid. Then bam, third grade I ballooned. I lost all my “popular” friends and was relegated to the outcasts. Why? To be honest, I don’t remember exactly when my parents started fighting. I probably wasn’t really paying attention until I was old enough to get what was going on. When I was nine, my brother would’ve been 16. Driving, working, out of the house more with his friends. Is it possible I became overweight at that point, when I was more alone in the house? I don’t know. I do know that food has always been encouraged as a prize and as consolation in my family. Ice cream for achievements and sad things. It’s always been a stress go-to, particularly in the last year of college when I really gained a lot of weight. Even this week. It’s an ongoing problem that’ll probably always be a problem: fail, eat. Sad, eat. Stress, eat. Happy, eat. Saturday, eat. Eat, eat.
I’m rambling at this point. I’m in an overthinking place. I feel like an asshole for dragging Jorge through this shit when the majority of my feelings are totally unrelated to him, and there’s nothing he can really do to fix it. It’s kind of my deal. At least today I’ve acknowledged that something in my brain broke from trying to grow up in an inhospitable environment.
Plan for tonight: go home. Watch something happy. Be alone. Go to sleep.
