Different

I think part of me has always been attracted to "different." When I was younger, if everyone was watching a certain TV show, I used to avoid it, if everyone was wearing a certain type of fashion, you would have found me being very unapologetically last year. 

I realise that I was owning the fact that I just didn't fit in. What I know now is that I didn't fit in because my self esteem had been so brutally knocked by my abusive father and that he'd created an inferiority complex within me. I wondered whether I was autistic for a time, but I have been assured by professionals that I am not autistic, just traumatised. 

Things are different now, I happily watch the same popular TV shows as everyone else, knowing that I'm worthy of doing so. I can see that I'm worthy of fashion (not that I care for it now), friends and good people. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case when I met Peter; I still had a long way to go in my recovery from a dysfunctional, neglectful upbringing. 

Being attracted to "different," I became attracted to Peter. I even remember saying to a friend around that time, "I've always been a fan of the underdog." 

Today, Peter and I attended our childrens' sports day and I looked around at the other parents in the crowd:

-well groomed

-interested in what their kids were doing

-chatting amongst other parents

- reacting to highs and lows

-some were hand in hand with their partners

-some leaned in for the odd casual kiss

I looked back at Peter:

He was staring into the clouds, watching birds fluttering about in the sky, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands behind his back, shoulders hunched, his bobbled shirt hanging off his frame, his trousers frayed at the bottom, his overgrown mop of hair, unkempt and overgrown, frizzy and styleless. His eyes squinting in the bright light, no sunglasses, no hat. 

He looked so different to everyone else and we were behaving so differently. Me at one side of the finish line, camera in hand, knelt down ready to take an action shot, him at the other side, oblivious, disengaged, disinterested. I part of me felt pleased that he wasn't stood beside me.

That's when it occured to me, that I'd been expecting normality, when the life I had created with Peter has been very different because he is different. Here were all these married couples- full of joy, intrigue, gratitude, warmth. Peter and I, unmarried, on opposite ends of the finish line.

I looked around and thought of how much I deserved to be with the sort of husband who was cheering, chatting and dropping casual arms over their wives shoulders and then I looked back at Peter, swaying, squinting at clouds. Self assured in his oblivious daydream, before taking out his phone to take a photograph- no. To check his work email. I glanced over at our daughter and smiled at her, before she diverted her eyes to him, her smile fading slightly when he didn't reciprocate.

It's not me who she hugs so tightly and fiercely when it's time to leave, it's him. And I find myself wondering if she is starting to feel the difference too. 

A Delusional World

A trait I find most infuriating about Peter is the delusional bubble he's created for himself. He is an intelligent man who can problem solve successfully at work; who achieved straight As in his GCSEs; an encyclopaedia of facts and knowledge; a practical genius when it comes to mechanics, woodwork and engineering and someone who knows how to mask so brilliantly that he's described as a "gentle teddy bear" by his friends and work colleagues, despite being emotionally and mentally abusive towards me for years.

I realise wholeheartedly now that this is abuse. He is not setting out to hurt me, but to protect himself and his comfort at all costs, the consequence for me is abuse. And he doesn't care- this is enough abusive intention I now realise. To cushion himself, he has created false narratives throughout his life about people, situations, memories... He is actually so controlling of his surroundings, that he has decided subconsciously, what life ought to be like and how people ought to behave within the walls he's erected, so he pretends things are as he wishes them to be, denies anything where he feels discomfort in the truth. 

At some point, he has created the narrative that he's a good boy, always. This likely happened during childhood when he was praised for being "no trouble" as his mother often described to me. He was taught to dismiss and neglect his own needs and be good. As he's always been "good" he has never questioned his choices, omissions and behaviours towards me. In his mind, he is good no matter what. He is confined by the beliefs that his parenting and upbringing was good, that his parents continually "mean well" as he so regularly used to tell me. He admitted in relationship counselling recently that his mother was "controlling" which is a huge step for him, but these limiting beliefs have served as blockades to the truth all his life. 

He has been indoctrinated with the belief that it has been his job to serve and protect his sister. That she can never do wrong; in his eyes, she will always be a helpless, defenceless child. The baby he envisioned her as at 7 years old. I challenged this notion during relationship counselling and he became visibly uncomfortable in his seat before shaking his head and saying "no, no she has done nothing wrong, no." Almost as if he was trying to argue with his own doubts. The relationship counsellor was taken aback, it was clear to see. She has suggested he needs individual counselling and despite her being the second relationship counsellor to say this, he is still adamant that he does not require therapy. He will not pay attention to anything which does not serve or benefit him and individual counselling threatens his comfort far too much.

He has surrounded himself with toxicity in friendships and refuses to acknowledge that his best friend cheats on his wife. He tags along with groups of mysoginist males who exploit their co-workers and behave unprofessionally in a bid to be popular. The few times I have mentioned infidelity amongst his friendship group, I have been met by aggression and told not to ever mention this again.

 He sees that our eldest child has behavioural difficulties, he can accept this because she challenges HIM, but he refuses to acknowledge her likely neurodiversity as the reason why. He will not speak of or acknowledge the times our children have been in danger when they have become severely unwell and hospitalised or when a horrible accident almost occurred. He makes out that uncomfortable events never happened. The problem with that is, he can never learn from them. 

His world is suppressed by idealisms and when someone in his life (me) challenges those idealisms, I guess he begins to see me as dangerous. My "outing" of our relationship troubles have destabilised him, I have threatened the perfect family image that he has created, which I actively and miserably participated in for far too long. He is proud of his image. But images aren't real.

The people he surrounds himself with who picture him as the "teddybear" see me as callous, unhinged, cruel and delusional because the masked version of him does not fit my narrative. He basks in these perceptions and they continue to feed his false reality. 

"I am a good boy." 

Good boys don't behave aggressively to the women they love for merely showing emotions, opinions or preferences. Good boys don't tell the mother of their children that she's asking for too much or imagining her heartache. They don't take advantage of her time and energy. They don't withdraw affection and attention and focus solely on themselves. They don't punish her for being unwell. They don't treat her as an inconvenience when she needs him. They don't walk away so easily. They don't feel ashamed of her for going against the status quo and speaking out about societal  inequality. They don't speak about her character negatively with other men. They don't tell her that other wives are better and more tolerant than she is. They don't trust other people over her. They don't choose other people over her. They don't allow their families to actively or passive aggressively disparage their wives. They don't treat her with disrepespect and allow others to.

Delusion is the culprit for every problem, perception or opinion being denied which does not match up with their desired view of themselves and the world around them. But without delusion, how would they live with themselves and who they really are? Who are they?

Did I ever know him?