(click the picture above for
the high definition
video - but also click
YouTube
for me!)
Entry locked until
05.01.09
11:01 PM,
Saturday, May 24th, 2008:
<shaking head,
staring at the laptop>
Really. That
actually happened. Loading the car with Michelle's
help as if I'm some monster. Ready for this
set-up?
So we wake up the
day of the premiere. She asks: "What are you
wearing?". I said, I have no idea... probably black
pants, nice shirt... I have very limited attire. After
many moments of silence I figure that's the end of the
conversation. I go about my day. Check my email, make
some coffee.
We're out on the
front porch drinking coffee. She calmly says she needs
to talk to me about something. She was very hurt that
I was so rude this morning by ignoring her. ?
Apparently the conversation was supposed to continue
and I didn't. So I search for a continuation of "What
are you wearing?" and I asked her what she was wearing
tonight, how was she gonna do her hair... which is
apparently what she was hoping she could've baited me
on this morning: "Why does it matter how I do my hair?
Do you want me to wear makeup?"
(sigh)
Before we go into
how fun THIS day was, realize that this was not a
shock to me. Hell I wrote about it specifically the
night before I picked her up from the Buddhist temple.
This was always a matter of time. The 10 days since
she came back, though peaceful, have really been her
attempt to show that she doesn't need to see a
therapist and that she's FINE! I've stayed out of her
way, and to her credit with a little meditation in the
morning... things have been cool.
<thursday=/cool>
So she brings up
the make-up thing, something she has been against
since she returned. I could honestly give two shits at
this point. She's a gorgeous woman, with a fuckton of
issues and if she feels better not wearing makeup?
Let's have a make-up bonfire. Happy wife, happy life.
But I was done placating her like this was completely
normal behavior. She clearly needed to speak to a
therapist. So when she started in, I just spoke very
bluntly. The back and forth inevitably got her to the
point she wanted all along where she proclaimed: "I'm
never wearing make-up again for the rest of my life,
do you have a problem with that?"
<dripping
sarcasm> "That's gonna make your acting career
difficult"
<being serious
now> "Honey, you really need to speak with someone.
You have some serious issues you can no longer ignore.
In the past 2 months you've gone from therapy to the
mental hospital to a buddhist temple - you're
spinning."
But she wouldn't
let go - and demanded I answer if I would have a
problem with her never wearing makeup again and I
point blank said: "Of course I would. 'Cause it's a
sign of ANOTHER problem." But she got her answer. So
we go to the premiere. She is certainly sans make-up
and she proceeded to tell me the following morning how
several men "looked" at her so it was ME with the
problem. All of which made it clear it was finally
time. When I said there was "no turning back" in
December, I meant it. If she wasn't willing to go to
therapy I could no longer spin in circles. After a
somewhat isolated day I tell her that it's time to
start to work through an exit strategy of some sort.
Clearly this isn't working, and we need to find a way
to be happy... apart. Not seeing eye to eye is one
thing... we can't even see eye to foot. She looked at
me and said: "I'm sorry, I was fucking crazy there - I
know I was, please give me another chance here. I was
very stubborn... etc. etc." (hmm, do etc. go IN the
quotation marks? sorry...) I looked at her and figured
why the hell not. I've been around this horn 34 times,
35 is nothing. At this point it was more about
allowing her a moment to not feel slighted. I always
have the ability to empathize and I know how hard
she's been trying since she got back from the temple.
Even though it's the exact same shit, in her mind this
was just one slip-up. But she knew where I
stood.
Incredibly, today,
the identical make-up argument starts again. And I was
in no "kid gloves" mood to temper my words. I was not
gonna walk on eggshells anymore. She asked if she
looked better with make-up on and I said: "Yup, that's
the point of MAKE-UP". Realize, never, in our time
together, have I EVER asked her to put make-up on. But
today, I was not gonna play into her issues. Of course
her eyes stood out more when she put eye-liner on. She
was a professional make-up artist in South Africa for
fuck's sake. Again, I'm silly to even get into this
argument in written form because it's about as obvious
as fighting with a 9 year old. This is clearly a
deeper issue. But I did say she looked better with
make-up on. So she left me.
She made a big
huge fight out of all of it - called Michelle and
moved in with them. Even though yesterday I had calmly
set-up a scenario where we could do this civilly she
had to make it dramatic. And no matter how contrived I
can't help but sit here and think: "Really." After
months of babysitting a suicidal spouse and being
patient through every, single, issue that she could
throw at me... she can't return the courtesy for my
"supposed" indiscretion of saying something as
inconsiderate as "when you put sexy make-up on you
look sexy." And even as I type that, again, I know
that's not why she ran out no matter what charade she
just put on. And bringing Tyson & Michelle into
this? Great I lose a wife and my best friends now.
Good times.
The
biggest nut cruncher in all of this is
that I knew exactly what was going to
happen before it happened... and it still
hurts me. Love, fucking,
blows.
<an
hour later after reading some of the locked entries in
March>
"If she walks out
of this house alive, I've succeeded. 'Cause either
way, we won't make it"
The Journey heals
again. When you step away from the minutiae of it all
you remember just how bad it was 2 months ago. When my
only goal was to get her on her feet, allow all her
defense mechanisms to go back up and lift her to
safety - even if it was a delusion. 'Cause breaking
down the walls in therapy doesn't mean shit if it
literally kills you. So in essence, I succeeded today.
She is OK. She is alive. I did everything I could.
It's time to take care of me and go through the
unbelievably painful process of letting
go.
But I'm still
fucking livid - lol. Really. You... left ME?
LOL.
