My Bedroom
As I was cleaning my bedroom, I began to realize I was getting more and more angry, resentful and stirred up inside.
I would always stay at my ex's house when we were together. It always seemed more natural. Also, inside, I don't think I wanted him here.
My bedroom was my enclave, my hideaway from the world. It is perched up in the eaves of my house, like a bird's nest. There is a view of the water, small attached bath and a little balcony. This bedroom while not big, has always been mine alone. The place I came to cry or hide, when I wanted solitude of peace, the place that cradled me when I needed sleep, the kind of sleep no one else would disturb.
Over the years, I think I fell into a state of depression. My room began to become the place I collected things, and that didn't have to be perfect. No one was ever in my room, and if I had visitors to my house who I know would want a tour, I would just grab everything and stuff it in my closet. I began to resent someone coming into my space. I think it was because I felt like I had to be perfect all the time with my ex. All the time. I was so afraid that I might dress or do something inappropriate that would set him off. It could be anything. I never could (and still can't) predict the causes of his rages, and that is because that is how he wanted it. My room became the one place he didn't have dominion over. I have slowly sunken into a depression where I neglected everything about myself. My education, my interests and even my room. It is messy beyond belief. It looks like I am a hoarder, when the truth is that I didn't care enough about myself to throw anything away. I felt indecisive because of my ex, scared to get rid of books because I might 'need' them later, scared to take any time on myself because he might 'need' me later. Blah, you get the idea!
Anyhow, now I am seeing this new guy and the charm is starting to wear off. It is no longer something new and exciting (and to be honest, I knew I wasn't ready for a relationship, so I kept on the watch out for flaws). He is so sweet, gentle and kind, but he is different from me. There is a difference between us, a big one... And one I am ashamed to admit matters to me.
Money.
Fuck, I hate that word (excuse my language). It conjures up images of my parents and all of their snobbery. I have had nothing. Literally nothing. And I slowly built myself up. I have had my identity stolen and had to hustle between 3 jobs at times in order to build my business. The funny thing is, the more I had, the less I cared about it. I wanted happiness. I was trying to buy happiness. I also was trying to do my best to succeed. And this is the crux of my problem...
I don't care about money and how much someone has or doesn't have. I care about passion, about setting out to be the best you can be. It doesn't matter if you fail. We all fail. What matters is getting back up again. Nothing in this world is easy, and everything has a price. I think he is all about the quick cash, the quick buck. I know for a fact that there is no such thing. When it comes to money, the tortoise wins the race.
He made me dinner the other night. It was luscious, delicious. He made pasts from scratch and we huddled in his kitchen on dining room chairs to eat, because get this... His roommate (that he just moved in) is living in his living room. I am trying really hard not to judge. I have been so broke that I lived in garage for 3 months. I had to step over drug addicts to get in the door every night. I was 23. He is around 30. I see him flaying his arms looing for something to cling to in life, and I don't want to be that something.
My ex made roughly 36,000 a year after taxes and that is before child support, but he had a house and his things were always neat and tidy. He worked his ass off to get that house, and yes, eventually did steal it from his ex-wife. He pressured her so much through the divorce proceedings that she was willing to give up and just walk away (can't say I blame her... I would have down the same thing). I guess the difference is that my ex had a passion for what he did, and that was something I always admired in him.
In the past, I have had people cling on to me, or used me for advice or I have helped them only to be left with nothing in the end. Today, he (J, the new guy) called while I was looking at a duplex to buy. I currently rent my place because (yep, you guessed it) I was waiting for my ex to get his act together so that we could live together. Well, that never happened of course! I am not sure I even want to stay in Washington, so when I say I was looking, I really was just looking. Our conversation goes as follows:
J: What are you up to this morning?
Me: I just stopped to look at this duplex. It is in this great area and really spectacular, but I am not sure I can afford it.
J: Why not?
Me: Because I am not sure I would qualify for the loan. I am self-employed, banks calculate income differently. I am a much higher risk.
J: Oh. You should really have one of the mortgage brokers from my bank give you a call.
Me. No, I don't want that, they always hassle me too much. Besides, I have someone else I would probably go through.
J: You don't have to. Just tell them you found someone else and to put you on their do not call list.
Me: That sounds like a hassle.
J: No, it really isn't, besides it helps with my referral numbers.
He is a personal banker with a large bank. He doesn't make much money, and promotions are based on the numbers they generate. I hate this bank because they have horrible business practices.
The thing that got me about this conversation was that I felt he was being pushy. I don't like to feel like I am being used. Another part of me wonders why I was so offended, J was right, I don't have to even talk to the guy and I screen all my calls... Still there is something that bothers me about it.
Also, he has yet to be in my house. My house is a far cry from his apartment. It is casual and comfortable by most people's standards, but it reeks of money. I have learned to be cautious of people who become too comfortable too quickly with my things. It isn't about the things themselves, it is about entitlement, an automatic assumption that what is mine is theirs. I am afraid J is a little too entitled, a little too expecting that I should help him out.
I don't like it, and it has left me with a pit in my stomach. A sense of unease.
Oh, and to wrap this up... I am not sure I am ready to have someone else back in my room again! I think it is too soon.
I would always stay at my ex's house when we were together. It always seemed more natural. Also, inside, I don't think I wanted him here.
My bedroom was my enclave, my hideaway from the world. It is perched up in the eaves of my house, like a bird's nest. There is a view of the water, small attached bath and a little balcony. This bedroom while not big, has always been mine alone. The place I came to cry or hide, when I wanted solitude of peace, the place that cradled me when I needed sleep, the kind of sleep no one else would disturb.
Over the years, I think I fell into a state of depression. My room began to become the place I collected things, and that didn't have to be perfect. No one was ever in my room, and if I had visitors to my house who I know would want a tour, I would just grab everything and stuff it in my closet. I began to resent someone coming into my space. I think it was because I felt like I had to be perfect all the time with my ex. All the time. I was so afraid that I might dress or do something inappropriate that would set him off. It could be anything. I never could (and still can't) predict the causes of his rages, and that is because that is how he wanted it. My room became the one place he didn't have dominion over. I have slowly sunken into a depression where I neglected everything about myself. My education, my interests and even my room. It is messy beyond belief. It looks like I am a hoarder, when the truth is that I didn't care enough about myself to throw anything away. I felt indecisive because of my ex, scared to get rid of books because I might 'need' them later, scared to take any time on myself because he might 'need' me later. Blah, you get the idea!
Anyhow, now I am seeing this new guy and the charm is starting to wear off. It is no longer something new and exciting (and to be honest, I knew I wasn't ready for a relationship, so I kept on the watch out for flaws). He is so sweet, gentle and kind, but he is different from me. There is a difference between us, a big one... And one I am ashamed to admit matters to me.
Money.
Fuck, I hate that word (excuse my language). It conjures up images of my parents and all of their snobbery. I have had nothing. Literally nothing. And I slowly built myself up. I have had my identity stolen and had to hustle between 3 jobs at times in order to build my business. The funny thing is, the more I had, the less I cared about it. I wanted happiness. I was trying to buy happiness. I also was trying to do my best to succeed. And this is the crux of my problem...
I don't care about money and how much someone has or doesn't have. I care about passion, about setting out to be the best you can be. It doesn't matter if you fail. We all fail. What matters is getting back up again. Nothing in this world is easy, and everything has a price. I think he is all about the quick cash, the quick buck. I know for a fact that there is no such thing. When it comes to money, the tortoise wins the race.
He made me dinner the other night. It was luscious, delicious. He made pasts from scratch and we huddled in his kitchen on dining room chairs to eat, because get this... His roommate (that he just moved in) is living in his living room. I am trying really hard not to judge. I have been so broke that I lived in garage for 3 months. I had to step over drug addicts to get in the door every night. I was 23. He is around 30. I see him flaying his arms looing for something to cling to in life, and I don't want to be that something.
My ex made roughly 36,000 a year after taxes and that is before child support, but he had a house and his things were always neat and tidy. He worked his ass off to get that house, and yes, eventually did steal it from his ex-wife. He pressured her so much through the divorce proceedings that she was willing to give up and just walk away (can't say I blame her... I would have down the same thing). I guess the difference is that my ex had a passion for what he did, and that was something I always admired in him.
In the past, I have had people cling on to me, or used me for advice or I have helped them only to be left with nothing in the end. Today, he (J, the new guy) called while I was looking at a duplex to buy. I currently rent my place because (yep, you guessed it) I was waiting for my ex to get his act together so that we could live together. Well, that never happened of course! I am not sure I even want to stay in Washington, so when I say I was looking, I really was just looking. Our conversation goes as follows:
J: What are you up to this morning?
Me: I just stopped to look at this duplex. It is in this great area and really spectacular, but I am not sure I can afford it.
J: Why not?
Me: Because I am not sure I would qualify for the loan. I am self-employed, banks calculate income differently. I am a much higher risk.
J: Oh. You should really have one of the mortgage brokers from my bank give you a call.
Me. No, I don't want that, they always hassle me too much. Besides, I have someone else I would probably go through.
J: You don't have to. Just tell them you found someone else and to put you on their do not call list.
Me: That sounds like a hassle.
J: No, it really isn't, besides it helps with my referral numbers.
He is a personal banker with a large bank. He doesn't make much money, and promotions are based on the numbers they generate. I hate this bank because they have horrible business practices.
The thing that got me about this conversation was that I felt he was being pushy. I don't like to feel like I am being used. Another part of me wonders why I was so offended, J was right, I don't have to even talk to the guy and I screen all my calls... Still there is something that bothers me about it.
Also, he has yet to be in my house. My house is a far cry from his apartment. It is casual and comfortable by most people's standards, but it reeks of money. I have learned to be cautious of people who become too comfortable too quickly with my things. It isn't about the things themselves, it is about entitlement, an automatic assumption that what is mine is theirs. I am afraid J is a little too entitled, a little too expecting that I should help him out.
I don't like it, and it has left me with a pit in my stomach. A sense of unease.
Oh, and to wrap this up... I am not sure I am ready to have someone else back in my room again! I think it is too soon.
Replies
I just wanted to say that I totally understand on the money thing. Totally. Every man I\'ve been with in any serious way has ended up taking massive amounts of money from me in one way or another. I have a similar attitude to you when it comes to money - but now I also have a son, and there is no way I\'ll ever be serious with a man who doesn\'t have his own money. Because I\'ll not let another man take what\'s left for me and my kid. I don\'t care if he has a lot or a little - as long as he has enough to pay his own way at my level, which is nowhere near as high as it was, but it\'s not poverty line either.
Thanks, Livin. I feel like such a horrible person for even thinking about money, but it is so true. It has definitely cost me money dating, they have all benedited financially from dating me. I want to date someone who is my equal because I am tired of pulling so much weight in a relationship. Equality, compassion and kindness. Hmm... Time to rethink this relationship.
I really admire your strength, Livin. It inspires me. :)
If I may stick my nose in, I feel the exact same way about money. I was thinking in my head of the necessary qualities in the next man I date, some day, and \"financially secure\" is on the list whereas it never was before. it\'s not even like *I* am all that financially secure right now because - you guessed - the stbx was happy to live off my earnings and savings instead of working to his own potential. i have just started to rebuild and there is no way in hell I\'m giving up any more of my money (there I said it baldly) to another man.
My mom and stepdad keep their finances 100% separate - they still do a monthly bills accounting like they are college roommates - but i think it goes a long way toward their happy long marriage.
Freedom - you totally deserve equality, along with compassion and kindness. We all do. As well as a man who can put his hand in his pocket and come out with a wallet, frankly. They don\'t have to support us but they have to support themselves.
Thanks, Freedom - sometimes I feel that strength, and sometimes I don\'t. I can say that a few short years ago I didn\'t feel it at all. So it\'s nice when others see it.
The only other thing I wanted to add is that we are each entitled to want whatever it is we want in a partner. And if some of those things are deemed \"shallow\" by someone else, or \"ridiculous\" or \"asking too much\" or any other version of \"wrong\", then that\'s their problem. We get trained in (and often before) abusive relationships to believe we don\'t really have a right to even want what we want, much less insist on it. You know, if you decided you would never date a guy who was less than 6\' tall, or who had red hair or with a dick less than 10 inches long ... well then that\'s fine - that\'s your choice and it\'s your right to decide what you want in a partner. Of course, if you narrow things too much, then you limit your options, but so what? That\'s your right too.
We should never feel bad for having standards, and we are allowed to determine what those standards are - no matter WHAT anyone else might think of them. What sets us apart from abusers and their ridiculous standards is honesty. They don\'t tell us up front that they have a full on madonna/whore complex, or that they expect us to earn huge amounts of money without working too hard and while also managing to make them feel like the breadwinner while they sit around in their undies watching porn or whatever the hell they do. They are not honest about their expectations. As long as we are honest about our expectations, we are entitled to whatever those expectations may be.
Rant over.