-8.
I really just want to die. I'm not suicidal, I just want a visit from the Sudden Death Fairy.
I am constantly encouraged to "be myself" and "follow my passions" and "be honest about how I feel."
And, when I do these things, I am berated. I cannot be upset. I must say, in a perfectly neutral tone of voice, "I feel upset because ________." And then I must dutifully say, "Thank you for comforting me" and appear to be comforted by whatever is said. I cannot be discouraged. I must say, "I am feeling discouraged because __________________." Follow routine.
This sounds great in a parenting book, but I have never actually met a person (other than a sociopath) who "shows their feelings" in this manner. My husband, who wants this, certainly doesn't. He just grumps and yells and berates, and then by way of apology says, "I had a bad day at work."
"Follow my passions." Yeah. Doing so gets me criticized for being selfish (and it's not as if I am neglecting the housework or the kids-- but realistically, sometimes you have to tell them to entertain themselves and stop fighting. Obviously you drop what you're doing if they're crying and you don't know why, or you hear a thump, or they're too quiet, but sometimes the correct response to "MOOOOM!!" IS "I will help you when the timer rings." I tried jumping to every whim-- for YEARS-- and that garnered spoiled brats with no impulse control).
He wants me to "be myself." No, he wants me to be an NT version of myself. After all these years, and the nervous breakdown, and the drugs, and the counselling, he STILL DOES NOT GET that doing that takes an ENORMOUS amount of effort, and that I am not going to accomplish it and still be bubbly and outgoing and cheerful and laughing. I can do it, but "withdrawn" and "robotic" and "always a little bit sad" and "constantly tense" is going to be as good as it gets.
I am so tired of this roundabout. I really need enough antidepressants for anhedonia and total flattening of affect to be the norm, and I need to resign myself to that being my life.
Just like his mother did.
_________________
"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"