Nobody's Perfect

I did the one thing I swore I'd never, ever do.  I trashed someone.  When I started this blog, it was meant to be light hearted stories.  Then it became depressing because I was depressed.  Then, I started writing about healthy eating.  I had learned so much and I found it so fascinating that I couldn't help but write about food.  From the very beginning I swore I would never trash anyone, family, co-workers, my husband.  This was not a place to vent, to take revenge.

It was meant to be completely private from those who know me.  I gave the address to a couple of people to see the kitchen photos and it went from there.  I am almost certain no one on the plant is reading anything I write and that's quite alright by me.  I write for myself, to let off some steam, to pass time.  I really do not care if anyone is reading, criticizing, laughing, or sharing in my pain.

I have it in my head to suggest to Shawn that we talk tonight, without screaming, without becoming nasty.  I can picture all of that in my head, but it almost never happens that way.  It usually does end up with us both screaming at each other, bringing up past deeds, bringing up things that will never change, nor have anything to do with what started the fight in the first place.

Single people, heed my words:  That is marriage.

I wish we could have what we had in high school.  I missed him every minuet I was not with him.  We had never hurt each other yet.  We had fun together.  There was a magic that cannot be replicated once you've been together for sixteen years.  Why the hell not?  Where does it go?  What stole it away from us?  What happened to us that we cannot seem to love each other the same way we did as teenagers?  (Or perhaps that was all a fantasy I projected in my memories?)

Could it be merely time, or work, stress, money, or all these things put together?  It may be because we suddenly seem so completely different.  What changed?  We have changed, of course, everyone changes as they mature and grow up but I am not so certain that either of us has grown up or matured.  We're still so childish to each other, so quick to bite.

When we had our very short argument yesterday, I was busying myself, transferring the photos I had taken at Dylan's graduation to a pen drive so I could print real pictures at Wal-Mart.  I was staring at a picture of all three of us.  I stared at myself, more than a foot shorter than the guys.  I'd gone easy on my make-up because I was afraid I might cry and look like a huge mess.  Though I did not cry (I teared up after my sister turned into a huge mess) I stared at that photo of me and realized how old I looked.

When did I get so old?  When did this happen?  It hit like a tons of bricks because I hate to look at myself in the mirror.  I was forced to look at this picture so I could label it for my hard drive storage.  I was forced to look at what everyone looks at.  I didn't like it.  I never have.

I've wasted my twenties.  But what was I supposed to do with them?  I went to work.  I cleaned.  I cooked.  I did eBay for the last eight years because Shawn was convinced we might someday quit our jobs for it.  I made a thousand trips to the grocery store, to the car, to the cupboards.  Christmases went by.  Time was not cherished.  People were not cherished.

And you know what's sad?  I'll most likely do the same with my thirties.  What else do I have to do but go to work and the grocery store and so forth?  And I'll look back and wonder where in the world did my thirties go?  And why are Shawn and I so different?

I honestly don't know what to do from here with myself.