It’s like I can’t help but do it wrong.
I had a bad night last night – disturbs husband who is exhausted. Guilt.
I stay in bed this morning (husband insists). Guilt.
I then end up with my daughter unexpectedly so we watch Aladdin but I do nothing. Guilt.
When husband gets home I go back to bed. Daughter follows me. Guilt.
Husband takes daughter to do supermarket shop. I stay in bed. Guilt.
I force myself up. Get washed, brush teeth, put on clothes. I even put on make up because I really want to try. Pathetic.
I go downstairs to join husband and daughter. Daughter is continually attached to me. Everything is mummy. Husband apologises and says he’ll take her out. I must be a monster. I haven’t complained or anything but he feels the need to take her away. Shame.
He moans about everything he has to do. Shame and a little bit of anger actually because the house is an absolute tip and it’ll be my job to sort it all and I’ll do a lot in the week to keep things ticking over.
I buy some stuff we need for the house. I’ve spent a lot of time researching to get the best deal. I’ve waited to purchase for a few days from fear of being impulsive. I show husband. He isn’t bothered. Pathetic.
We discuss a savings account I’ve opened. I am putting any leftover money from selling my car in it. It should earn some interest. Husband jokes that it’s good I’ll be bringing some money in. It really upsets me. The money will be about £35 for the year. I feel awful about not earning. I’m doing everything I can to ease our finances. Shame. It’s easy for him to joke when he isn’t a burden. He apologises. Guilt. I’m such a horrible bitch. It was only a joke.
I tell him I’m going to look up forensic science roles. This is something I’m investigating for when I can begin working again. His words are supportive but his tone implies ridicule. Shame. I don’t react. The negative voice in my head begins to laugh nastily:
Haha you absolute fucking joke. Forensics? Good one! Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! (I sniff to myself, I only wanted a little encouragement). You’ve done fuck all all day. Your efforts are beyond pathetic. Just by being here you make everything worse. (But that’s not fair…you know I can’t kill myself). You should go. Leave. Or at least disappear back to bed where you can do less damage.
Instead I ask my husband if he’s ok. I say that he sounds a little annoyed. He immediately apologises in a way that means I’ve hurt his feelings. He’s short with me and mutters to himself about just keeping quiet. Guilt. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve followed what he’s asked me to; I’ve made efforts and tried to engage with the family; I’ve really thought about everything I’ve done today to try and do it right but, somehow, I’ve done it all wrong again. I want to cry but that seems selfish after all it’s me causing the problems. I really want to leave. I have nowhere to go. I feel like I should be away from them, but, I know that’ll be wrong too.
And I’m so confused. If I try it’s wrong, if I leave it’s wrong, everything I do is wrong. I literally don’t know how much longer I can keep on being so confused, trying so hard and being so wrong. I don’t know what to do. I know this is all very hyperbolic yet it’s true.
How did I end up being so wrong when I’ve spent my whole life trying to do right. Well that worked. Hmmm, I feel a bit better now – twisted.