So many things are going on and I am just exhausted from thinking, not twice, but many times over, before doing anything. You see? I am an emotional person. And reactive. Yes, this spells trouble because when something affects me emotionally, I don't think before I react. I just do it, just like Nike.
I used to tell me that being a part of my life was exhausting because it was like riding a roller coaster, with its glorious high points and its steep falls. And yes, I must say that it's true. I am like that. Many times (way too many to count) I've thought about changing. About becoming more rational, stable, constant, but I can't. Or rather, I don't want to. I fear that if I became like that, I would lose that high, and that high is what keeps me alive.
But that is not the problem. The problem comes with the lows. The downs. The falls. Right now I am heading towards one of those. I finally discussed the "D" word with J. He did not take it well (which is surprising, considering we have been separated for almost 3 (yes, people, THREE) years). Did he expect us to live like this forever? I don't know about you, but if I have a husband, I'd expect to at least live with the man. The problem is, we live apart, and yet, he still expects me to act like his wife in public and to go to family functions with him. And then, if I go, he makes it a point for the function in question to be completely miserable for me. He makes it uncomfortable. He makes inappropriate remarks. He makes me feel like a complete outsider (which, let's face it, I am). As an example, last time they started talking about how stupid affirmative action is and how minorities just take advantage of it and how unfair it is for white people to have to compete with unprepared minorities, just because they happen to be black, or Hispanic, or whatever. Hello??? I am MEXICAN, remember? Technically, I am one of THEM. I might look white, but I had my share of being on the receiving end of inappropriate comments after I moved to the glorious U.S. of A.(Boo-hoo. I know. I've had it soooo tough. Whatever).
Why do I go to those functions, you ask? Because I am a moron. Because I felt guilty. But fuck guilt. I'm done with that shite.
Now. I must remember to handle him with care, because if things get hairy, this big D thing might drag along for months. So I must keep things light and fluffy with him. Be calm. Cool. Collected. All the things I'm not.
On the other hand, I must also remember to not take things out on anyone else. And that's even harder. Guess I must start going to the gym more often, or else buy a punching bag and keep it in my apartment. God knows I need to punch something!! Any volunteers?
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