Fatigued

You know, there's tired and then there is fatigued.  Emotional garbage makes me fatigued.  Curl up in a ball, cover my head, wish to go to sleep exhausted.  Last night kicked my butt.  Though it was calm.  It rolls around in my brain.  The hurt.  The sadness.  The knowing that he doesn't even get that the day that was supposed to be my birthday celebration wasn't the best choice for this conversation.  He started it off apologizing for something that happened nearly 21 years ago.  I mean, really.......he already apologized for the exact same thing.  I get it that he is sorry.  Except that it's the same behavior still.  It has been the norm.  And I said so.  From the very beginning, he has allowed his family to pick on me.  He doesn't stand up.  He doesn't comfort.  He doesn't help me.  He leaves me alone to be picked at. 
And, then we had to review that it isn't about what gifts you get for a person's birthday.  Which, truly, for me, it is not.  However, I was trying to explain that it would feel good if he at least had an idea of what I would like.  If he would at least know me after all of this time.  I got great gifts.  He was proud.  But, wrongly.  He went halves with my 18 year old son!  Who had the ideas of what to get.  Who DID bother to figure it out.  He tried to guilt me about making it about presents, but I said that it is not.  It was just an example of how detached he has been for these years.  Of how small of a blip I have made on him. 
Yesterday, during my party, I was giving my daughter my credit card.  I had saved money to buy myself something for my birthday.  Decided that it was better than feeling sad.  But, I had some of it left and decided that she could go get a game for their wii system.  It is a good exercise game.  He nearly jumped off of the couch to intercept the card...he thought that it was OUR account.  Then he had to say in front of everyone how he didn't know that I had an account and a card....which is ludicrous since he keeps asking me about it every few weeks.  I was embarrassed.  I was hurt.  But, I got over it.  Because it wasn't worth it. 
I was poured a half cup of coffee.  And he made the point how HE hates to waste.  It makes me cringe.  I rarely waste my coffee.  I usually drink what I take.  It has been an ongoing thing.  He wants me to want it his way.  I'm not allowed to think that a full cup of coffee is ok.  Or a glass of milk.  I am poured about a third of a glass.  It has always been weird to me.  I'm not a preschooler.  Which I have said.  I won't spill. Probably.  I won't throw it away.  But it's a constant thing...whatever goes in the trash or gets left on the counter by anyone is pointed out, shown, questioned.  It's stressful.  It's controlling.  The kids and I eat while he's at work now.  It's calmer.  If there's fat on meat or gooey parts on chicken, we are supposed to eat all of that before we are allowed any more.  Even me.  I know!!  Totally.  How have I gotten to this place??  What a moron I've been.  There is something wrong with this picture.  It's done under a guise of being good, but it's creepy.
We were at my friend's house for my birthday lunch.  And the boys were on the roof.  I love it when they are free enough not to be stupid, but to explore and try things and make memories.  Not to be willfully destructive.  I think it's wrong to destroy on purpose.  But trying things is a part of growing up.  He had to say how the roof of the shed is bowing and how they shouldn't be up there jumping off.  Well, we don't live there.  It's not our rule to make.  Not our choice.  The person who lives there should have that ability.  It really bugged me.  It was all I could do not to be a total smart ass and go on out there and get on the roof myself.  I don't know why.  I'm fairly compliant.  I think that it was the attitude. The idea that he does all of these things for the good of......I'm not sure.  It grated. 
Then he wanted to play a game.  I was supposed to choose.  I chose Scrabble.  Then I played golf....looked for the low score.  I was tired.  I was ready for him to go do something else and let me relax.  I was stressed and just wanted to enjoy the moments.  Instead, it felt like I was supposed to show my support on all of these little things that bothered him.  I know that he tried to rally support twice....regarding not knowing I had a bank account and about not knowing that I was going to work another job.  Because I didn't ask permission.  He threw both things out there to hook someone into a conversation.  But, thankfully, he was unsuccessful.  That was a blessing.
I told him that he lost me a long time ago.  That he has never had time to sit down and have a conversation with me.  I had to follow him around or be where he was working.  Everything was so important.  I wasn't.  He has jealousy over me, but not love.  He doesn't want me to be excited about other things.  But, he doesn't want to be there either.  He wants to be the center of the world.  But he doesn't get that he was.  And then, he let it slip away.  I learned well that I did not hold a place.  I learned that the rules, the work, the ideals, the schedule, the exercise, the.....you name it, all held very important places.  And that I was not up to par. 
It worked for a long time.  I became more and more depressed.  Less and less able to function.  But, a part of me knew that things were really messed up.  A part of me fought to make it real...to make it better.  Until, after fighting for so long, I couldn't do it anymore.  And he lost me. 
How sad for him.  Because this isn't something a simple apology will fix.  He says I don't forgive.  I said that it's impossible for me to FORGET but that I do forgive and I choose to keep forgiving as it crops up again.  But I can't forget.  I can't make it go out of my brain.  I can't make it as if the years didn't happen.  I need time.  Desperately. 
He wants me to feel sorry for him.  I do.  But not for the reasons he probably wants.  Not because it will make me go back.  Because he so thoroughly squelched who I was.  Because he failed to cherish what he could have had.  Because he doesn't have something great with his kids.  Because I can't fix it anymore.  I can't jump and make it better. 
I am fatigued.  And, as I pointed out, it doesn't seem like marriage should, in general, be simply wearing.  Simply painful.  With some good moments.  But so much just hard.  I think that perhaps people should actually feel happy.  Feel content together.  Have a sense that the world is better together.  And I don't.  And I haven't.