I know, that makes so much sense.
It doesn't, of course - I wasn't offered any tools or given any examples growing up to teach me to foster a healthy relationship with someone. But you know the saying, "Wherever I go, there I am"? If I don't work on myself, no relationship I have will ever be a success. Namely, if I don't work on myself when I'm with myself, I certainly won't be able to do it when I'm with someone else...and will therefore be quite capable of making two lives quite miserable.
The other day I became very angry with Jason for singing and playing music in his room when I was trying to write. I didn't let him know how I felt. Instead, I stomped outside to the backyard - and saw his bong next to the wicker bench. I wanted to go break it, but, because he went off his bipolar/OCD/anxiety/sleep meds and has decided instead to get a legal medical marijuana card, I decided not to break the bong, begrudgingly. But, since I can't handle being around a bong, I went back inside to the living room to write...where it was loud again. As the music was grating my nerves, I got an email from Ronnie, my ex-husband, telling me that I'm a disappointment to our son because I don't call Lyle every day at five like I'm supposed to, and Lyle is sad every day waiting for my call. Instead of admitting my mistake and telling Ronnie I'll make the commitment to call our son, I got even more angry, and when Jason came to ask me what's wrong very kindly and compassionately, I exploded. I got up, I threw my phone onto the floor, the contents breaking apart and scattering into the hallway, and I stormed out of the house without so much as a word, still wearing my pajamas, driving 30 miles back to my aunt's house a few towns away.
Um, yeah. Psycho...
I do the very best I can to justify my actions, to any one. Even to you, dear readers. In part 7, I justified my leaving Jason's house, and my plan to leave the relationship, without giving you all the deets.
The truth is, I'm a liar, and a rager. Growing up, my dad lied so often that it was a problem, and both of my parents' significant others flew off the handle in violent rages. I didn't learn the best communication skills, to say the least. I don't blame them, mind you. They were obviously fucked up by their parents, and them by theirs, and so on and so forth, back to the chicken or the egg or homo erectus or Adam and Eve or whatever you choose to believe. (Book nudge: The Four Agreements by don Miguel Ruiz includes some great stuff about how our parents and society fuck us up as individuals.)
But maybe I just don't know how fucked up I really am until I try to live with someone else. Say I'm dating you, and I fall in love with you because you're special, and you feel the same way about me. We've both dated quite a bit - one of us was even married before - and we can safely say that we've never felt this way about any one before. Then, we spend a large of time together. Finally, we start to argue, and we realize we're actually both pretty messed up. "You're crazy!" I'll scream at you, hypocritically. Or, "I can't be with you, because I'm just too crazy. It's over!" And I run like hell, without hardly giving you a chance to say anything in the matter.
So I'm flighty, to boot. I really need to re-read my own "7 Ways to Avoid Getting Into a Bad Relationship" that I wrote just yesterday. "Love"...I've written about it plenty, from various perspectives. Sometimes I really sound like I know what I'm talking about, and other times I really have no freaking clue. I hold no Ph.D. in the subject. Hell, I ain't got no GED in the subject, neither. I'm like, in pre-school. And like a child, I want, want, want. If I really could just follow my own advice and "master love" the way Miguel Ruiz prescribes in The Mastery of Love, I wouldn't even be writing right now. Maybe I should read that book again, too.
Anyway...I guess what I'm saying is, the chapter on Jason isn't actually closed after all. I've embarrassed myself plenty over the past month oscillating from this-guy-sucks to he-can-be-my-boy-toy to I've-never-loved-someone-so-much to yay-happy-day-I'm-engaged to get-me-the-hell-out-of-this-shit-NOW. I know...crazy.
If you were in my shoes, dear reader, what would you do? Keep in mind, that, most importantly, you have an almost five year-old son who needs your love more than anyone.
Well, what I did was, I apologized to Jason for my freak-out, told him everything that was bothering me about our relationship, and I told him that if we're going to continue to consider marriage, before we even set a date - we need to undergo pre-marital counseling. And include Lyle. I got therapy with my son Lyle last year when Ronnie went to jail and rehab from May to August. It worked well for us.
All I want, in the entire world, is to be a good mom. It's more important to me than a relationship with any guy, and Jason knows this. If he's willing to let me put Lyle first, no matter what, maybe there's a chance for us after all. But he's going to have to support me when I need space to work on myself and on my relationship with my son, and, again, undergo therapy too, both individually and combined (and then we can call Captain Planet). And I need to follow #7 in my list: taking special consideration when dealing with mental and emotional disorders. Shit, I need to follow all 7 on the list. That's why I wrote it; because those are things I need to remember.
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