Resentful Butterfly
Why is it that money always makes people miserable? Too much of it and you end wondering if people like you because of your money or if they like you for who you really are. Too little money, and you end up scrimping and accusing other people of taking away the little money you have.
We had a 'talk' this morning. He's no longer (not that he ever did) going to help out with mum. He's not happy to help me share the burden that is my mother. In fact he's starting to resent that she has any power over our money at all. He hates the fact that he's poor. He's got a point. After all, she's not his mother. She's mine.
At the same time though, I feel like I've been left alone. Set adrift on the ocean and unable to float. It's like he's left me to sink. I feel all alone.
My salary is like this: 592 a week. 300 of that goes to mum, leaving 292. Of that 292, he expects me to pay 150 rent - leaving 142. Then there's the 50 for groceries. That takes it down to 92. On top of that, I'm going to be expected to pay for our visa bill. Which accounts for another 150 - or maybe just however much I can afford. And suddenly I'm in the red. I can't afford anything. No lunch, no dinner, no food. On top of that I have bills to pay.
But I can't complain to him. Because he tells me it's my choice. My decision. I hate the fact that I feel like I want to be walked over. But what does it matter?
He says that he's starting to resent my mother - but instead I find that I'm starting to resent him.
It was my decision to move out, despite my mother's constant warning that I couldn't afford it. I guess I didn't think it through properly, and I've always been easily pressured, to the point where I'd just prefer to have someone else make all the decisions for me.
I really am feeling very sorry for myself. I want to pretend that I can do this. That I can be strong and save and scrimp. But truth of the matter is, I can't. And I can't tell anyone about it. No one will have any sympathy for me. He's like a wall. You have choices. And you need to understand that if you do one thing they can affect other things. Easy for him to say when he earns a hell of a lot more than me. Alright not so much more, but two hundred is still a lot.
Sometimes I just wish I could go back home. Where it's easy. And I'd sit there and put up with all of mum's angry diatribes in order for me to be at home. I don't really want to go out there and live my own life. I'm too scared of doing right - like now for example.
Why was I so stupid to leave? Why do I always think the grass is greener on the other side? Why am I even here?
My cousin tells me that money shouldn't matter. She tries to guide me, asking me what is it I want, and am I happy? If money wasn't an issue, yeah, I'd be happy. But right now all I feel is alone. All I feel is that I'm left out on my own. Once the visa bill gets paid off he can be happy and secure in his money. I can't. And while he points out that I can - all I have to do is stop paying mum so much, it's easier said than done. He doesn't have the family obligations that I do.
His family has never asked anything of him. My culture expects the young to take care of the old. And mum's just not reasonable enough to talk to. Or maybe I'm just too scared to talk to her about it.
Wherever I look, all I find are closed doors - even him. He once said to me that he didn't need to understand.
..is money really worth breaking up over? It all just seems so hard. At the same time, am all I going to do in this life, is just run away?
We're buying a printer. For me. For Christmas. 565. I am so tempted right now to just say no. After all, how often am I going to use it anyway? I don't really want anything.
I'm feeling all morose and sorry for myself. I want to be perfect I want to feel the bitter taste of martyrdom.
He wanders around like everything is ok. And I can't rationally do anything. I have to have reasons for my outbursts otherwise he just starts up and then we have these huge arguments where I end up being wrong. I'm tired of being wrong. For once, I just want to be right.
I don't think I'll ever find anyone who will properly understand. I wonder sometimes if this relationship is even as cracked up as I'd like it to be. Do I even understand what love is all about? I don't think so.
I can't expect him to take care of me - not the way I want to, and I have to accept that he has his own feelings. He is an individual and not someone I can control or expect from. I have to stand on my own two feet.
But at the same time I get the feeling that I might well have to starve in order to stay here. I want so much to hold onto my pride and dignity and not ask anything of him. At the same time, I know my situation.
He is a hard taskmaster.
Sometimes I just wish I could be mean. I have it in me. I can see all the arguments that people can hold against me. Hell, you could just call me a money-mongering whore if you wanted to. All I ever used him for was money and sex. Sometimes I really don't understand what love is.
He's always got the moral high ground and I'll never have enough confidence to believe that I might be right.
Misery. All I feel is misery.
Floating Butterfly
I'm happier today. I feel much lighter than I have been the last few weeks. And it's all due to one thing. One teeny weeeny eensy thing that in the big scheme of things is like a blip on the stratosphere.
Mum told me to take care this morning. I went by her room to let her know I was leaving, and in a calm voice - much similar to the way she used to speak to me before this all blew up.
And suddenly I started floating. It doesn't matter how much you know that someone cares or loves you - it's when they start expressing it in the most basic way - by voice, that it sinks in and impacts. I know there's an argument that actions speak louder than words, but the affirmation by words does so much to emphasise. It does so much more.
And I'm floating.
Meanwhile, I had a nightmare. Similar in content to one I've had
before. This time round I dreamt that I was being seduced by a work colleague/executive. And while I refused his advances, this man went to the point of killing my boyfriend. He lay there on a hospital bed getting surgery performed on his skull. Complicated. It was the same feelings of helplessness and loss. And my reading is that yet again I felt like a masculine part of my psyche felt repressed or dead.
I know why I would subconciously think/feel this. I was like a cowed dog around mum last night. We wandered the shopping centre, and I spent the entire evening at her beck and call. I think even she got sick of it after a while and by the end of the night she was forgivingly gruff. I think she felt better that I was trying so hard to please.
I have lots of issues. Self-esteem, in the deepest sense. None of this 'i'm not good enough for happiness' sort of thing. Rather, just a general sense of trying to do things so people will like me. To be honest, I don't think I really know deep down who I am. I am satisifed with myself to an extent, and I do in fact exude a type of confidence. But deep underneath those layers of social politeness, I find myself creating my personality out of those very social mores. I want to be the 'perfect daughter' the 'perfect girlfriend' the 'good girl.' The wholesome down to earth in your face lovable girl. But it's just not possible. And sometimes I wonder if my fault lies in wanting to be perfect.
It makes me wish I could break through all of this. And come out the other side with a true sense of confidence. Much more willing to stand up for myself, and less wanting to not hurt other people. I think I took that adage, 'treat people as you would like them to treat you' a little too much to heart. My boyfriend calls me a sweetheart for doing what I do. Sometimes I just feel like I'm being taken advantage of, and sometimes this belief has become so ingrained in the way I act, that I can't help it or stop it.
Either way, I feel like I'm floating today. Let's hope it lasts.
Overthinking Butterfly
Came across this song today. Encapsulates all the things that have been wandering around in my head the last few weeks - in particular days like last Friday:
I've gotta stop my mindWorking overtimeIt's driving me insaneIt will not let me liveAlways so negativeIt's become my enemySave me ah ah save me ah ah
save me ah wooh
Save me ah ah
save me ah ah
save me ah wooh
Why would I think such thingsCrazy thoughts have quick wingsGaining momentum fastOne minute I am fineThe next I've lost my mindTo a fake fantasyAnd none of these thoughts are realSo why is it that I feelSo cut up and so badI need to take controlCoz my mind is on a rollAnd it isn't listening to meSave me ah ah save me ah ah
save me ah wooh[
thinking and thinking]
Save me ah ah save me ah ah
save me ah wooh[thinking and thinking]
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the dumbest of them all
Insecurities keep growingWasted energies are flowingAnger, pain and sadness beckonPanic sets in in a second
Be aware it's just your mindAnd you can stop it anytimeSave me ah ah save me ah ah
save me ah wooh[thinking and thinking]
Save me ah ah
save me ah ah
save me ah wooh[
thinking and thinking]
Ok so here we go
If it works I'll let you know
One two three I say stop
Jem ~ Save Me
Longing Butterfly
I’m listening to ‘21’ by Melissa Tallon. And it’s bringing back memories. The beginning of a relationship is always so exciting. So thrilling. So
new.
We don’t have a song. We have no true defining moments. Just moments when there’s been threats to leave. The excitement all essentially ended when he started questioning me – why I couldn’t do this, why I couldn’t do that. And when it got to the point where he said, “my ego just won’t take it. It’s fine if you are at a stage where
blah blah blah, but I’m not. I can't stay. I have to move on.”
And I could hear my hopes crumble. The dream shattered. And reality began to sink in. And then it was all a slippery slope on a dark and windy night. Cliff-side, crumbly rock and dashing rains.
But for a little while…. Everything was new and exciting. Days and evenings tinged with pink sunsets and all pastel clouds in hues of pink, mauve and crimson against a pale blue sky.
Afternoons of frenzied and tender love-making, tangled cotton sheets, the coolness of the tiles the bare walls, the coastal breeze lifting the oppression of summer heat. It’s close to a year since this all started. Since you began to take an active interest in me, and offer me rides home – an hour and a half on the roads, half an hour out of your way. And me so clueless and grateful for not having to brave the summer commuter traffic or pay for a weekly train fare.
You introduced me to a world of fancy dinners, opera, and what it means to be loved by a man. It all seemed so exciting. So much above and beyond my own life – which had become dreary and dull in comparison. Boring. Been there, done that.
But these days when I go home, and wake up and smell the familiar smells that characterise ‘home’ and my past, I can’t help but feel the waves of nostalgia wash over me. And wish for better days – an easier life. When I wasn’t required to do any more than come home and sit in front of the television, eat dinner, wash dishes – if I felt like it – and then retreat to my room to surf the net. And all the while I had a mother who adored me and worshipped the floors I walked on.
These days, she talks to me mainly through my brother. “Ask her if she wants any salad” “Does she want any breakfast?” Like I was a friend of his who doesn’t speak her language and needs him to translate. At least she’s not screaming at me anymore.
I wish I could put all my feelings onto this screen. I wish I could express all these emotions that are rolled together. They’re almost tangible. I can almost imagine the tangled ball in my hands, and I’m so tempted to just dump them all on here. But I can’t. because emotions aren’t physical. I can’t put them on this screen. I can’t leave them here on the ether. I can’t throw them into the abyss.
At the age of 23, I can honestly say that I have regrets. I regret the way I left home. That feeling of loss and betrayal of myself, wounded me to the core. Well, maybe not to the core per se, but enough to leave a lasting impression on me. And I wish I had her blessing on all of this.
My life seems so surreal these days. If I don’t think about it, I just go through the motions. But mum’s right in a way – there’ll be no true excitement when we get married. It will all be old school. Been there. Done that. House shopping? Done. New sheets, furniture, kitchenware, done that too.
The romance is out of this relationship. Now it’s just tender love. We’ve begun to take the love for granted a little. I can feel us settle into routine. We come home, make dinner, watch tv, cuddle a little on the couch and tell each other how much we love them, then go to bed. We wake groggily in the morning and go to work. And the cycle repeats. Wash, rinse, dry.
And yet strangely, it's still more exciting than my old life. Except when I pause to sit down and think about it. And I wish for the familiar trappings of family.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
Greedy Butterfly
I never thought money was important to me. It was always something that passed through my hands like water, and I splashed and played around in it at whim. I’ve never had much of it. But I’ve never been particularly possessive. But these days I find myself coveting it. I need more money. And the more I spend, the more I get resentful. I don’t think I do very well at sharing.
Dinner was 100 dollars last night – and that was the deal on a set menu. God forbid how much it would have been if we’d ordered a la carte.
I bought him a suit for Christmas. Another 600 on the credit card bill. We’re never going to pay any of this money off. And meanwhile, my mother is ever omnipresent in my mind. A lurking, lingering shadow that never ceases to exist. Constantly haunting my existence and making my life a misery. Of course, that is all because I can’t let it go. I can’t accept the realities and consequences of my decisions.
I didn’t bet on the races yesterday and listening to my work colleagues talk about how they won 300 dollars on the favourite makes me grumpy. It makes me wish I had taken a punt, and gone ahead and made a bet. I need the money. And I hate the fact that I need money so badly. I’m counting and pinching every penny. I get resentful when he spends. I’m unhappy.
I just want to crawl back into bed and roll over and sleep.
I’m supposed to get my new modem today (assuming they remember to bring it in) and I’ll have to spend money again. My bank account despite my big tax dividend is slowly starting to deplete. I shouldn’t have bought that mobile phone. Even though I know it was a bargain.
I hate that I’m coveting money so badly.
I hate, I hate, I hate.
