Journal entry 4.23.25
This is going to be a very very long rant. And most of you will roll your eyes at it, a few of you will understand… but I do fully realize that this is self indulgent and pessimistic.
So, I’ve spent 48 years being part of the society machine. I participated in making men happy, one man in particular, I kept my head down and was a good wife, a good female. I didn’t have kids, so that takes a point off in being a good woman, but I would have had kids, in a heartbeat, had I been with a man I trusted. So maybe that’s the one instinct that kicked in, do not procreate with him.
I fed into capitalism, my business is based around it. I have done yo yo diets, I’ve purchased things I don’t need, I believe in retail therapy, I believed that men are visual creatures and I performed. I became a mindless puppet searching endlessly for male validation through my sex. Push those boobs up, smile when you are uncomfortable, learn how to cook his favorite meal, never point out his flaws, build him up, cheer him on, pour everything into him. Him him him.
Honor your parents, even if they wish you weren’t here. Respect them, don’t talk back, don’t point out their flaws.
Chase dopamine, it’s easy! Fast food, entertainment, vapid entertainment news and reality shows. Check, check check!
Anyone in authority is to be believed and respected. Doctors, lawyers, veterinarians, teachers, police officers, anyone at the IRS. Anyone wearing a special hat. Respect them, don’t talk back, let them cut into you or your animal at will. Believe them, trust them. Shut your mind off and do what they say. Especially if they are a man.
If a man tells you what to do, you defer to him and do it… be it, he’s directing traffic, he’s stocking shelves at the grocery store, he tells you that you need a new transmission on your new car, he cuts you off in line at the post office, he tells you to smile. He is above you, he is the authority over you. Do what he says or at least let him think you are going to do what he says. Otherwise he’ll get mad, and we don’t want that. Men are the smart ones, the efficient ones, the logical ones, the protective ones, the strong ones. They have a god given right to be respected.
Women aren’t logical, they are dumb, they have icky periods and that scrambles their brains. They can’t lead, they can’t make decisions, they can’t be president let alone dog catcher. They are just so darn unpredictable and moody. Don’t listen to them, don’t take them seriously. They are only good as caregivers, nurturers and doing behind the scenes labor. Sure, they are out in the world doing other things, but it’s sort of a joke. We are giving them a pass. Sort of like affirmative action. You know, just for show. Women are the downfall of society. Eve’s sins are why everything hurts, why life sucks. All on Eve. All her fault and thus, all women.
I’ve done the dance. I’ve given, I’ve hated my gender, I’ve distrusted my gender, I’ve deferred to men. I’ve said out loud that I like men better. I adopted my husband’s politics, his way of thinking… that even included thinking I was too much, too loud, too needy, too mouthy. So it was my husband and I against my womanhood.
I was the friend you could count on, I was the one who would drive 90 minutes to bring you the thing you should have gotten on your own. I attracted the users, the ones that shamed, the ones that didn’t care about me. I didn’t blame them because live and let live!
I used to get so much out of relationships. I chased connection and those delicious can’t-hang-up conversations until dawn. Validation, belonging and warmth. I absolutely thrived when I’d get those little breadcrumbs.
But mostly, people abandoned me, they threw me away. When I stopped doing what they wanted, acting how they wanted, when it stopped benefiting just them… even if we were friends a very long time. I was disposable. Expendable. Everything was conditional. And they didn’t think two thoughts about pushing me away.
And I agreed with them… I know I’m not an accommodating friend, daughter, wife etc. Them throwing me away makes perfect sense.
My stomach has been a mess since I was 5. I had chronic upset, chronic spasms, chronic pain. I was sick 2 days a week for 40 years. Somehow, magically, when I started living alone my stomach only acted up once a month, then once every 3 months. How about that.
So… I’m 48. I’m sitting on the couch I bought sitting in the townhouse I rented. This place isn’t perfect, it isn’t grand, it isn’t part of community of nuclear families who all looked out for each other. It’s loud, I don’t feel very safe. But I prefer this. Alone. No obligations to anyone.
I’ll probably never get a new car, I may have to wait to get that dental work until I save up, I’ll do my own repairs, I’ll do without media subscriptions, expensive clothes, patio furniture I rarely use or jewelry of any kind. I won’t go on the vacation, I won’t see the world.
I currently buy the absolute minimum, I don’t need a new anything. My dinner can be a slice of cheese if I want. I’m not wearing a bra. I’m not stressed out over anyone else’s needs, opinions etc.
I don’t have to get my mother in law a birthday present and sign his name. I don’t have to anticipate his needs, clean up after him, make his appointments, file his paperwork, have sex I don’t want to have, smile when I’d rather scream. Be that good little cog in that big machine.
I can take my little cog and leave.
I’m free.
And these days, I feel like I can be even free-er. Liquidate my business, change phone numbers, only have the bare minimum. Live off the emotional, societal grid, so to speak.
I used to miss the touch of a man, but that’s fading because it wasn’t authentic, it came with strings and he held the power. He didn’t see me and love me for who I am. It was just my body. And he could do what he wanted… throw me away, ignore me or worse… take my things, break my heart and leave. And he’d have zero remorse because, after all, I’m just a silly woman.
I don’t want to participate in this hierarchy anymore. I don’t want to interact with most humans anymore. I don’t want to over consume and have to work until I’m 80. I don’t want to be reminded that my parents never wanted me and my husband used me as a sex/mom/maid robot.
I want to opt out permanently. I want to isolate and only be responsible for myself.
Is this selfish? Narcissistic?
It feels more like coping, a trauma response, wanting my stomach to stay calm. Wanting to feel safe, wanting peace, quiet.
I know this sounds so bitter, but I don’t think love is real anymore. Not at all. Or I don’t deserve it for whatever reason. I want connection so badly, but I don’t think it truly exists. I’m so fucking intense and I’m so tired of nobody getting it, seeing it or relating to it. I feel like I’m from another planet and I have an extra sense that nobody else has. It’s SO isolating. And from this point of view, humans can’t love. Maybe they can love their offspring, but that’s about it. Humans don’t truly want to listen, help, support or CARE about other humans. They take take take.
Yes, there are exceptions… but they are so rare.
So, the last week I’ve been very much writing out a plan to close my business, save every penny and find a way to go somewhere, disconnect and live on what I have. If I’m thrifty enough, if I plan it well enough, I can just go into my hidey hole and live there.
What’s the point of working hard to live in a house I don’t need? What’s the point in getting more money just to buy more things and be away from home?
I honestly can find a very humble dwelling and live on the divorce money and the liquidated business assets for the rest of my life, without having to work. It will be a very, very simple life… but then I can opt out of the rat race, the game, the dopamine chasing, the latest serum, iphone or widget that I don’t need.
I was a cog in that massive wheel… I was a good little cog… but I think I want out now.
