Oh boy

When I was feeling particularly mentally unstable I'd tell my ex boyfriend he resembled Shrek. He kind of did, looking back; both are hulking, grinning, idiots with bulbous noses and bushy eyebrows. The only difference (besides the green coloring) was my ex waxed, plucked and trimmed his eyebrows. In the beginning it was all love, and very little lust. I'm not very sexual, and he wasn't very aesthetically pleasing but he made me feel safe, and he was a great painter and since we were both jobless (I often was) he had no qualms with coming over to eat pie in the middle of the afternoon.

He met me at the wrong time. Really up until the age of twenty two every day, every second was the wrong time for me. I was bouncing from medication to medication having been (falsely) diagnosed with bipolar (but that comes later in my life) so his impression is that of a lunatic who called him Shrek and sometimes loved him vigorously and other times smacked his glasses off while driving down the highway.

He longed for me to be the wholesome homebody he assumed I was, and I longed to be that girl for him, and when he told me I should loose twenty pounds I went on South Beach Diet, and secretly ate Oreo's locked in my bathroom and sometimes puked them up, and when he told me he though I should go off medication I did, and when that made me completely insane and I ended up in Brooklyn with one of his friends shooting cocaine in the bathroom of a diner he told me I was a drug addict and that I needed AA and the twelve steps and to go back on medication. When I told him I thought I was neither a drug addict, or bipolar and that my medicine made me more nutty he told me I was unstable, and couldn't be trusted.

He'd sigh and look at me like I was the most pathetic thing in the world.

And we broke up when I started smoking pot and stopped listening to his rantings and now years later I'm married, and I have a baby girl and a puppy and I write and read and don't drink or take any medication and I'm happy and I know he can't believe it. If he isn't the cause of my happiness he assumes I'm in a phase. He'd call this phase denial.

If this is denial, it sure feels good. If denial is waking up in the morning to a five month old smiling at you I am okay with that. And if denial is having someone that loves you unconditionally even if you're having a day where you need to be a total bitch, that's the way I want to be.


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