We’re All Born Naked

“Somewhere, deep within her, surfaces a tiny clockwork submarine. There are times when you can only take the next step. And then another.” ― William Gibson, Pattern Recognition

Limbo

Limbo

“They” all tell us that we are not alone, that we always have someone to rely on, whoever “they” are. They tell us we have friends, families, spouses, lovers, to help us along the path. But there are times when this support network converges at the center and it is zero, null – void. Then, at that moment, we realize the cold hard fact that we were born naked and alone and when our time comes we will meet the end in exactly the same way.

I think the hardest task any of us have to face in our lifetime is to learn to trust ourselves. Trust our instincts; trust that inner compass that tells us we are headed in the right direction. Things get a lot dicier when we have a mental disorder and are told that sometimes we can’t trust ourselves. What the heck am I supposed to do with that mental tidbit?

What a mind job! Trust yourself, no wait, don’t trust yourself. Listen to you friends, but you have to make the final decision. If it feels right to you, it might actually be wrong and vice versa. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a maze and told to find my way out only to find that, if I listen hard enough, I can hear the master puppeteer laughing because he knows there is no way out.

I’m writer, a story-teller, at heart so I tend to modify or embellish details to further the story. But even when I’m attempting to relate a “true” story things may get a bit skewed, because I don’t have a perfect, photographic memory. Not many do.

Mr. Husband evidently thinks he is one of those chosen few. He has a habit of sitting there during a group conversation, with his eyes closed, (I kid you not) and only joins in the conversation when he can interrupt me mid-sentence to correct or contradict what I am trying to say.

We went out to lunch yesterday with his mother and then dinner with a friend. On both occasions, several times, he butted into a sentence to correct me on minor details that really had nothing to do with the gist of the conversation. This is only called for in a situation where you claim the heroine was wearing a green dress when the topic is of conversion is “that psychopath who is running around killing women who are wearing a red dress.” Otherwise it’s just plain rude. Excuse me Bubba, but we’re having a pleasant gab fest here. You are welcome to join us, however, we do not recall hiring you on as a fact checker. Many times his correction isn’t correct either. That’s makes it doubly annoying.

bitchWell, last night at dinner I finally snapped and said something along the lines of “what the hell is your problem?  Seriously, must you correct or contradict every damned thing I say???” Oh boy, that didn’t go over well at all. He got really really pissed.

I stood up and departed the restaurant to walk around for a few minutes to calm down. I didn’t want to make or participate in a scene in front of his friend in a restaurant. Then I went back and said “I think this is going to be an extremely awkward dinner, I’m going to go across the parking lot over to the Hobby Lobby and wander around for a bit.” Hubman wasn’t OK with that so instead, dinner aborted, we went home. Our friend, a very wise man, immediately took his leave and went in search of dinner elsewhere.

So Hubman stormed around the house like a constipated thundercloud. I finally went in his office to ask him what had happened, from his point of view. I was shaking in my shoes because I really did want to know. He informed me that I have been acting like a bitch for the last week. Okey, Dokey. Well, can you give me an example? No, he couldn’t or wouldn’t.  I asked him how exactly I was supposed to modify my behavior if I do not know what I am doing that is so “bitchy.”

So now I’m in a confused limbo. I thought I was doing rather well this past week. I was feeling happy and productive. I was writing again, getting dressed before noon, put on makeup and even left the house unsupervised. Imagine that. Turns out I’m a bitch? I don’t know how to wrap my head around this. My head is pretty flexible, but this I can’t process. This is the first time in my entire life that I’ve been accused of bitchiness by someone who I gave even the smallest bit of a hoot about what they thought.

Maybe he is having trouble coping with changes in our relationship. I know I’m standing up for myself more than I was in the past. And maybe he has a lot of stored up pain and anger and it’s coming out like a 12 gauge buck shot blast. I asked him last night to try an experiment – in which he would say something at the moment something happened so we can talk about right then. As opposed to him storing up his own personal arsenal of grievances. I guess I just have to wait and see where this is going.

7 responses

  1. Maybe your “bitchiness” comes from standing up for yourself. Could be. Could be for calling him on interrupting your conversation, or ignoring him. He may be feeling left out. I don’t know. As you feel stronger, he may feel weaker. It’s a weird situation. But you’re right. Men come from a different place than women. A different planet, different universe, different somewhere. We don’t communicate well. That’s a fact.

    1. The ignoring him part is a real catch 22 because he doesn’t participate in any conversation willingly. He’s not being deliberately or unintentionally left out. He just sits perched on the fence like a buzzard waiting to swoop down and snatch the conversation out from under the people who are talking and fly off in the direction of his choosing. He seems to prefer this to actually participating in the convo that is already underway. It’s a rather bizarre experience.

      1. It almost seems like an ambush attack on the conversation. How utterly bizarre.

  2. One of the advice columns I read advised a reader with your exact problem to stop whatever she was saying, pause for a moment or two, and then continue with the story as if there was no interruption. The theory was that he might get the message, eventually. I don’t know. I think doing the same thing to him next time he’s telling a story sounds more effective.

    And don’t you wish they would just say something instead of festering about it for days and days? It would be so much easier if these issues could be addressed immediately. Good luck.

    1. I’ve tried that with Hubmeister. It doesn’t work. He just picks up the thread of the conversation from the point where he interrupted me and soldiers on as if I’m not even present in the room. Come to think of it that he manages to hi-jack conversations frequently using this method. It’s not just me.

      And the festering part. Geez, it makes me want to poke him with a giant pin to see if he will sail around the room like a popped balloon. Any attempts to draw him out are usually fruitless.

  3. Unless you were created in a petri dish (I know you weren’t) no human comes into this world alone,your Mother was there too…I do agree that we’ll all probably have to eventually face the afterlife(if there is such a thing?) alone.SHIVER! I refuse to think about death right now because since childhood I’ve always planned to live a long long time-God willing.Husbands can be unreasonable,demanding and go off half cocked (please watch out,we both know he’s equipped with a shotgun).The best times are when your s.o. is loving helpful and cares about your well-being.He can build you up because he loves you and wanted you to be his wife,and you’re good for each other.It’s so lame when your guy hurls insults at you for just being you.Maybe men really are from Mars.

    1. I know I wasn’t technically born alone, but mother was a bit busy at the time giving birth. 🙂 It’s more of a metaphysical alone-ness. Getting insulted for being oneself really bites. And now we’re going to go through the usual 3 or 4 days of the cold shoulder routine where he will avoid me at all costs. Then he will finally ask me if I want to talk. And the catch is the only acceptable topic of conversation will be how wrong I was to dare and speak my mind. Such is life. I agree men must be from Mars. Some day some female scientist will be able to prove it. Of this I have no doubt!

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