When Is It My Turn?

My life is like a shop-vac, it sucks and blows.

I knew it was coming. I put it off till I couldn't anymore. I had to tell her that I wanted to be away longer than the usual meeting length. Why do you need to do that, she asks. Well, I'm planning on dressing at a friend's apartment, because the bathroom at the meeting site is really not designed for such. Why would you need to leave that much earlier, just to get dressed? OK, I probably don't have to leave that early. So, would you be willing to let me go out and have fun for seven hours while you are responsible for the kids? (That's a rhetorical question--she doesn't want an answer)

And that was the end of the conversation. I couldn't tell her that Cassie wanted to take me to a quiet little T-friendly restaurant, so I could get my first public outing under my belt. Because she would freak out.

All I want is to wring a little bit of joy out of my pathetic life without having to hurt the one I love. I just want permission to enjoy myself for a few hours a month. I'd love to include her, but she has ruled that out. I desperately need to spend time as "myself", whoever the hell that is. I'm never going to figure it out at this rate. I haven't dressed completely for exactly three months today, and that day was tempered by "the note" she dropped on me as I left for my meeting.

When do I get to be happy? I just finished bawling for a half hour, ten feet below and 20 feet west of my snoozing wife. I'm that close to her, but I could just as well be on Mars (well, Venus) for how disconnected I feel from her. I keep hiding huge chunks of my double life to protect her, but I can't tell her I'm protecting her. So the little I have to reveal, I get punched in the proverbial gut. Do I have a martyr complex, or what?

My best friends Shannon and Tina aren't going to be at the meeting, and my enthusiasm has waned completely. And this emotional upheaval has occurred during the time I was planning to bleach my arm hair. I'm probably going to just skip the whole thing. Then I can really revel in my suffering. I'm big into S&M (Sulk & Mope), a real peach to be around.

Sucks and blows...