Monday, September 14, 2009

Dr Zen has yet another "grown-up" conversation

So Mrs Zen says, when we come back in two years.
And I'm like wtf, you're not doing this again. There is no fucking way we're coming back in two years.
So I have to live apart from my family? she is saying. As though that was actually a big deal and I didn't have a family of my own, which I say to her, but you have family there too. Our children have family there too.
So I'm like, but look, in June next year I'll have 30K Australian and the 3K my dad has given me. That's a ton of money and it will still be hard. From what fucking pile of fairy dust am I pulling the equivalent of another 30K in two years?

She doesn't say anything.

No, I am saying, you don't think you need 30K because you think we will just move back to this house.

And I'm thinking, this is who you are, what you do, you don't listen, don't care.

We are never doing that, I'm saying. Are you fucking crazy? I mean, there's a chance we'll move back to another Australian city, but there's like a one percent chance I would ever agree to live in Brisbane again and absolutely zero chance that I would live in this house.

My cage. The place where I lost my mind. Where I became unmanned. Yeah right.

I'm like, you seriously need to think your options over. I knew you would do this if I gave it more time, but I think you need to do that. Because there is no fucking way I am committing to coming back in two years. I'll allow it's a possibility but I'm not saying ever that we're doing that.

She says, but you fucking hate me and you want me to give up my family. And I'm thinking, I don't really do hating people, and that's all I can think about that.

But I say, you can blame me as much as you like but it's you that isn't bothering, won't try. Which is all true. I'm not perfect but I didn't want this and would, at any point, have fixed it if she had been willing.

She says, you are living some sort of fantasy. Which is truer than she thinks, but I say, yes, I am living in a fantasy. I fantasise each day that this will be the day you wake the fuck up and realise you are 42 and not 12.

But it will never happen.

Ugh, women! I know you'll never do rational thought but for fuck's sake, can you at least try to get in touch with reality? I don't hate anybody here. I am sorry for the wrong I have done Mrs Zen: she has given up a lot of her life for a man who didn't deserve her to give up her life. But it's done. The task is not to gouge away at me in the hope I will agree that I am to blame for how shit she feels -- I am not to blame and I will not agree to give up every shred of happiness I have to assuage her anger about how her fairy tale turned to shit. The task is to maintain a liveable life for the sake of three people who have harmed no one and need, deserve, two whole people to be their parents. I want that. I'm trying to make it happen, but you know what? The tango really is fucking hard when only one of you is dancing.


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