my stuff
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all quiet on the western front...
Sunday. Late afternoon. Boo.
I bloody love weekends. And I bloody love Sundays. I don’t bloody love Sunday evenings though, and as late afternoon melts into early evening, there’s not a bloody thing I can do about it. Ya Boo to that.
Well, first things first. thank YOU, thank you, thank you - for leaving me notes, comments and emails and for writing about the situation in your own diary (meepful). All in all, every time I talk about real life stuff (as opposed to god only knows what) people seem to really enjoy letting me know that I’m not alone and that I’m not mental and that the way I’m feeling is natural, which makes me feel 90 billion times better about everything.
So, genuinely and from the bottom of my heart – thanks a million everybody.
Things. Are. Better (although I’m a bit cagey about writing that because the last time I thought that we nearly killed each other over the concept of soaking the potato masher after blootering the tatties with it, so I better watch myself).
I read everybody’s 2 cents/pennies worth and took little bits from most of them.
We had a big chat which did kind of lead to an argument but had a good conclusion
We made some promises to each other
We had sex (always a good one)
We went into town and bought some more music (again, always a good one)
I went to stay the night with my mother whilst Bandito got a night in with his various music machines and a new computer game, thus providing both of us with a bit of space and time to count our blessings and remember why we’re married and so on and so forth
We both went back on the booze
As a treat for me, Bandito spent a very productive day doing all of the housey things that I normally do on a Sunday, and is currently making me a Royal Chicken Korma from scratch from our curry bible book for my tea.
So, things seem to be (whisper it) moving along nicely. The big chat helped quite a bit, because even though it led to an argument, we actually managed to resolve it this time and both of us came off feeling vindicated and neither one of us used cheap, nasty tactics to fuck the other one over and both agreed that we’re going to stop doing that because even when one of us ‘wins’ an argument, we don’t actually feel that triumphant. We’re going to stick to whooping each others’ butts at scrabble to get that kind of feeling.
Also, spending time with my mum was really worthwhile. Even though she drove me half mad, she did have a few bits of wisdom and as always, managed to give me a completely different perspective on things that I’d never considered before.
In a nutshell, the factors that have been playing havoc are most likely: work (his, not mine) pressures, boredom and the baby thing and most importantly, the individual way we deal with things and the reasons for it.
As mum pointed out, even though we’re really similar in so many ways, there is a whole world of difference in the way we were brought up. I’m the only child of a very young single mum, Bandito is the eldest child of a couple who adopted him. Whilst I was brought up by a teenager, we grew up together. We learned from our mistakes together and I was taught incredibly valuable lessons about life that most people my age have to learn as an adult (and some never learn at all) - As a result, I’ve always held the belief that you can shine in the face of the hardest situations and no matter what, as long as you have at least 1 person by your side, you can get through anything.
Bandito on the other hand was brought up by people (who are absolutely fantastic and I love them dearly) who had experienced so much pain and disappointment and fear and worry before Bandito arrived to make their world a better place. They had to tick so many boxes to make their life perfect before the authorities would consider handing them a little life and so as a result, inadvertently they’ve passed on to Bandito the concept that everything has to be absolutely just so, before anything good can happen, before anything can move.
Our upbringings have resulted in me throwing caution to the wind most of the time and having a completely unrealistic view that ‘everything will be fine’ based on absolutely FUCK ALL fact and Bandito applies shit loads of pressure on himself because anything less than perfect means an unlimited amount of failings.
Jesus. My mum’s good isn’t she?
After 8 years together we’re still learning about each other. I wonder if that keeps happening?
And of course, we’re getting a dishwasher when our new kitchen gets fitted so that’s one less thing to fight about….or is it?
6:32 pm - 12 February 2006
