bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary



I blame my father for my inability to conform to traditional gender roles. He's a really liberal dude, and probably one of the biggest feminists I know. When parenting my brother, he went above and beyond and out of his way to raise him to treat women with dignity and respect. He wanted to show him how to take care of a woman and how to respect her. When it came to me, he did everything in his power to make me feel strong. He taught me about relationships, about the cycle of power and abuse, he taught me how to problem solve and how to be confident. His lessons may not have stuck one hundred percent of the time, but all he wanted was for me to be aware of and confident with my own strength.

That is something that I struggle with. I know I'm strong and capable, but I'm not confident in it. I know that I don't need Devon to fix things because I'm quite capable of fixing them on my own. I am crafty and resourceful and I've always been able to get us out of whatever jam we find ourselves in.... It's just that, sometimes I resent the fuck out of it. Sometimes I don't want to be the fixer, ya know? Sometimes I just want to cry and be discouraged and pout and not deal with things. Sometimes I want my husband to pick up the fucking ball and get in the game with me.

It's like, why do I have to kill the dragon myself? Why can't I just hang around in this tower and wait for my prince to deal with it?

And then I remember: because he won't.

And I suppose there has to come a point in my life and in our relationship when I stop faulting him for that. It's not like Devon has ever been particularly handy in terms of coming up with (or sticking to) a plan. He's not good at problem solving and he never has been. It's been an ongoing joke for as long as I can remember, "Devon handles the little stuff and Nichole handles the big" or "Devon handles the paper cuts and Nichole deals with the gun shot wounds."

What I fell in love with was his sensitivity and softness and kindness, and I think maybe some part of me probably got off on the fact that I, as the princess, got to strap on some armor and go save my prince.

It's so wrong of me to be resentful of Devon for being who he's always been. This revelation doesn't excuse him for fucking off his student loan debt or refusing to make phone calls about his car, but what I'm realizing is that I can't be mad at him for not formulating plans and being the fixer. Especially since I shoved myself into that role a long, long time ago.

So, with that in mind, I finally came up with a fucking plan and towed Devon's car to the mechanic (with my father's help). I paid off the balance we had on our account from the last time his car shit out on him, sold every scrap of free time I have until July (in the forms of odd jobs like painting houses and laying concrete slabs) and put the plan into motion.

I am still kind of annoyed with Devon because I feel like he has no concept of the sacrifices I've made (from agreeing to these odd jobs to losing a minimum of $15 every day because I get to work late and have to leave early just to drive him around) or what his inability to act has cost us, but at least this situation has gone from potential to kinetic. I think that was probably the first step in me not being an angry jerkface anymore.

So, no vacations for us this year. We have another 12 months of no weekend getaways or music festivals or concerts or fun outings to look forward to, but I've figured out how to keep the cars going, the lights on, and creatures fed. I might even be able to get us ahead and get some money in the bank, if I can get Devon to agree to leave his debit card at home. I think, considering the circumstances, that's really all I could do.

It's tough saying goodbye to some of the big plans I had, like a night on the Oregon coast in a book themed bed and breakfast or visiting his Grandmother who was recently hospitalized, but that's what you do when you're an adult. You make sacrifices.

It's bullshit, but it's gotta be done.

1:47 p.m. - 02.13.15


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