I’ve been pondering trust lately, seeing as my trust was pretty well ripped up and thrown back in my face not that long ago. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life. Let’s enumerate:
High school boyfriend – verbally abusive and cheated on me many times.
Dad – cheated on my mother many times, I found out later, but the one I knew about was the one he tried to get me to be friends with, the one who took me clothes shopping and bought me tickets to the J. Geils concert. And then fucked my dad in the car while her son and I attended the concert. Because that won’t mess with your head at all. No.
College boyfriend – didn’t cheat on me. Pretty decent guy, actually, things just didn’t work out.
First husband – drank like a fish, lied like a rug (any more cliches I want to pull out of my ass?) and tried to pick up my newly out-of-the-closet sister. A week before we got married. Which I didn’t find out until after we’d split up. Controlling, manipulative douchebag. Abandoned our daughter and has had no contact with her in over four years.
Second husband – cheated on me emotionally a couple of times that I found out about, one when I was about 8 months pregnant with our first child. Carried on several online “things” with various women after that, culminating in him leaving this past April for someone he met online. After telling me there wasn’t anyone else for months and swearing to me that if he did ever meet anyone, that he’d let me know.
This is leaving out a few other men I went out with, not all of whom were cheating scum bags but who otherwise messed with my head by dating me for six months and then suddenly never returning phone calls. I was never that invested in those guys and even though I’m sure the not returning phone calls thing was their way of saying they’d met someone else, it didn’t hurt like those listed above. Especially the last one. That one has left me feeling like a fool, like everything we did for the last ten years was a lie. I feel like I can’t trust that anything he told me was true now. Logically, some of it has to be but it makes me obsess over what was true, what wasn’t and why I didn’t run for the hills the first time I caught him in one of his online dalliances. I excused it because a.) I was pregnant and b.) it was only online, they’d never met (as far as I could tell, since one was in Detroit, the other in another country). But the intent was there, the predilection was there. Why did I allow myself to be made a fool of for so long? These are the things that swarm around in my brain when I’m trying to fall asleep at night.
So yeah. I have trust issues. Lots of them. And I’m not sure how to get past them or over them or if I should even bother trying any more. I feel like every time I let someone in romantically, they turn around and kick me in the teeth. Hard.
I know I am not an easy person to live with. I get depressed. I get moody. I’m very, very impatient. But if the person I chose to give my heart to can’t handle those things, then why do they stay with me? I don’t make any bones about my issues, I put them out there from the get go. Why is that what got thrown in my face, especially with M? He knew. He knew what I was like, knew how I worked and he took advantage of that to tell me I was paranoid and crazy for doubting him when all along, he was playing me.
So here I am, ten years older, even more fucked up than before, not wanting to even think about dating (and as a total aside, how the fuck do you walk out of a ten year marriage into another relationship? How do you not need a little time to figure out who you are? I don’t get that. The last thing in the world I want to do right now is get involved with anyone). What’s the point? Why should I risk it? It’s not worth it, it’s never been worth it. Wait, I take that back. I have four great kids, even if they do drive me slightly mad at times, but other than them, no. Not worth the risk, not worth the heartache.
Do I want to live like this for the rest of my life? On one hand, it certainly would be easier not trying to mold my life and all my fuckedupedness into someone else’s fuckedupedness. But on the other hand, do I really want to be alone forever and ever? Pluses – I can watch/eat/read/do what I want without clearing it with anyone else. Minuses – I’m alone.
Honestly? I don’t know why that second option sounds so bad right now.
And sorry if I put that Billy Joel song in your head…..trust me.