I went to spend the night at my best friend’s house last Saturday, because her twin girls and husband were at her in-law’s house (MiL, specifically). We had some drinks, watched some silly movies, and generally had a great time just being around each other. It’d been MONTHS.
I get home, and people are acting…odd.
Whatever…I put my things away, and then go take a nap, because I was hungover and hadn’t slept well the night before.
So this is Sunday.
Monday, JB confided in me that his parents had alluded that divorcing me wouldn’t be the most shameful thing he could do.
I asked what provoked it, and it’s the same old story – I’ve been getting this attitude from my doctor, too: I’m not feeling well, they don’t know how to deal with it, and the only way they know how to get rid of an “animal” that’s ill around here is to get rid of it. Obviously, they can’t take me out back and bludgeon me with a fireplace poker, and they can’t shoot me or throw me in a ditch or give me to a neighbor. So, to get rid of me, they want to break me and JB up and just have me go back from whence I came. Or something.
It comes down to the lack of control that MiL feels in the house. Our room is a MESS because we keep all of our stuff in here. ALL of it. We don’t leave things in the living room or kitchen. I try to put dishes where they’re supposed to go, but I don’t do any extra cleaning, because I know how much it sucks when someone tries to “help” you do something you’ve been doing for years. You spend the entire time hovering and cleaning up after that person, and just insisting that you do it yourself. That’s where I am. That’s where MiL put me. So what do I do? I stay in here. I go to classes.
While I know there’s a hormonal component to my weight gain, there is definitely a stress component, as well. I feel like I’m back in my grandparents’ house in Clarksville, afraid to leave the room because my grandfather would lurk in his recliner in the living room, just waiting for an opportunity to say something derogatory to me. I was at the bottom of the totem pole there, and I hated it. I couldn’t do anything right. Everyone who has frustration to take out? They took it out on me. Grandfather, grandmother, mother. Everyone. And I was supposed to just take it, respect my elders, and stay in my room or stay out all night drinking with my friends to avoid the inevitable at-home conflict.
Here, it’s a little different in terms of delivery. I hear about everything through JB. His mom thinks I say “fuck” too often, but she won’t ask me to tone it down. She tells JB that I’m doing it on purpose just to drive her crazy. Um, if you want me to watch my language, ask me to watch my language. It’s really simple. So they’re taking out their frustration with me on JB, and there’s definitely a strain on our marriage, as a result.
We’re currently looking for places to move ASAP. We unfortunately don’t have a lot of money to start with, but if anyone wants to throw anything my way, I’d be much obliged. We have a few leads on some houses in this area that are nice and in great shape. We just have to be able to finagle the first steps.
I’m usually so blunt toward people and how I feel that I’ve gotten used to that behavior from others. I’m not used to the passive-aggressive warfare I seem to have been unwillingly thrust into for some stupid reason. This is the reason why I avoid my sister (mother of my nephew) as much as I do. She’s fun in very small doses, but she’s like a 4-star General in the Passive Aggressive War when she gets going. She might have a medal somewhere. When she pulls that shit out, I just leave. I can’t handle it.
The must upsetting part of this, to me, is that my in-laws have been more parental toward me than my own parents. For my dad, it was because, well…he was just a shitty dad. My mom took care of me, but she was more of a buddy. My MiL is a buddy, but I trusted her with a LOT of stuff, because she seemed to care, and she seemed to empathize (especially with the happy little uterine hell I’m going through). My FiL is a jolly guy, and I don’t share any deep secrets with him, but I’m friendly with him. I’m just shocked at how MiL is now using these things I’ve told her in confidence against me, toward my relationship with my husband.
I mean, this is high school bullshit.
So I’m just hiding out in my room tonight. JB and I will be gone for most of the day tomorrow, then on Sunday I have to write a paper and get things together for classes on Monday, blahblahblah. I plan to stay busy down at Cluck-n-Neigh, as long as they’ll have me, and I’m considering joining a fitness center to have someplace to go when I’m upset to just work it out. Also: I’m fat. So yeah. That’s necessary. The working out can help control the anger I feel toward my MiL right now, and can help the alien food baby I seem to be gestating.
JB’s at the top of the hiring list for the county schools here, so in August, he will have a job. I’m still filling out paperwork for possible MAT work starting in the Fall, and when I’m done with that, I’ll be able to get a job to help, both with student loans and house stuff. We’ll be on our own, with our animals, in our own space, and I won’t have to have conniption over putting a cup in the wrong place.
THAT will be nice.
Until then, I might just “accidentally” drop an Ativan in her morning coffee. Or hell…drop it in mine.