The lack of happiness and gratitude for others

One thing I learned through being with my ex is that he could never be happy for me when something positive happened in my life. I believe this was possibly born of his own low self esteem, seeing me as an extension of himself, whenever life was going well for me, I think it sparked a fear response in him. I was getting away or bettering myself.

Other times, I'm not sure. I couldn't even do nice things for him, without him becoming seemingly offended. So I stopped. It was like he even needed to be in control of anything nice that I did for him.

I remember greeting him with a morning coffee in bed when we were still dating and the look of horror on his face: "I never drink coffee in bed." Him then leaving it on the side to go cold. I remember at the time, feeling I couldn't do anything for him without ingratitude and I later put it down to what I perceived as undiagnosed autism and a resistance to change. Now though, I'm not so sure. 

When my much-loved Grandfather died, I wrote a eulogy- put many emotional hours into what I could only describe as a "last performance." You see, he was a performer. He performed on stage for most of his life, a big, warm character who many loved and I felt a huge calling to stand up and bring the memories of him to life at his funeral in the way he would have done. It was huge for me; we'd recently moved house and I was also about to begin a new job, so the added pressure in addition to the grief was immense. I performed it for Peter first of all: he didn't smile, he didn't clap, he didn't give me a "well done." He just nodded and said "yeh, it's good," before returning to his usual distractions. 

When the funeral came and my family hugged me at the end of the eulogy, thanking me for the things I'd said and the "performance" I'd given in the height of my grief, Peter said nothing. He couldn't be proud of me, infact, I had this odd feeling, that he might even have been embarrassed. He never said, but he didn't have to. We never spoke about the eulogy ever again. 

Both him and his mother are very money minded however and when I once won £1000 on the Postcode lottery, they seemingly couldn't have been happier. I remember his mother boasting to anyone who would listen about my little win, his sister calling me out of the blue to ask "is it true?! Welldone!!!" I remember saying to her "well done for what?"

Peter whatsapping his friends a picture of the cheque. Like I'd finally achieved something. But there were no congratulations for new jobs, for promotions or anything else which required hard work and merit.

If I told him about something I'd achieved at work or been praised for, he'd look visibly unsettled and then later on, mock me or make a joke of it. If I cooked a nice meal he'd praise me, but have to comment on the mess I'd made, even if I was helping clear up. 

Sometimes, I think he even got offended if I got on well with his friends, so in the end, he kept me at a distance and blamed me for it. He'd quote a throw away comment I might have made about one of them in the past like "he's a bit cocky" or "he wasn't very friendly tonight" and use it as a reason for me never to mix with his friends again. He'd tell me stories about their cheating and sexist comments, I'd naturally say how awful their behaviour was and he'd then say later on,  "you don't even like my friends, you said so yourself! That's why I can never invite them over!"

I'll never be with a man who isn't happy for me again. The next man I fall in love with needs to be happy for me to mix with their friends, happy for my successes, happy for my efforts, grateful that they have me. Because that's what this sort of behaviour all boils down to isn't it? Ingratitude. And whilst happiness blooms from gratitude, there can never be happiness with men like Peter.