Sympathy

We don’t always want sympathy.

For the first time in months I started to share a few incidents of my relationship with my new husband.Snippets of saying things aloud revealed his overtly critical nature, the unreasonableness of his actions more importantly the nonsensical conversations and of course the wild accusations.

Naturally I shared a few incidents: him throwing his plate into the sink after lunch or intentionally placing his shoe so that it touches my knee while travelling on the train in Switzerland, telling me that that is how men sit and that its natural for their dirty shoes to touch the feet of the passenger on the train. Not to mention his comments of how I have to continue to message him, call him and show affection but he can withdraw and not share anything. Ofcourse not to mention the fact that we travelled on my money for the honeymoon (when the trip was supposed to be his gift to me), paid for the entire first week at his house and purchased a Kobe for his mate who was looking after his dog just so I could be introduced as my husband’s “friend”.

Nevermind the fact that he doesn’t want to share the fact that we were married or announce it on facebook even months after the marriage (please note that I had invitied 400+ people to the wedding of which maybe 10 were in his attendance).

I was surprised at the words that were comming out of my mouth amazed that I was in this ridiculous situation.

How was I continuing this relationship that too with someone like this (I know the extent of his disgusting behaviour most of which I’d rather not share until I can fully comprehend what I have stupidly put up with). I am such a fuckin moron!

The first few people who heard these snippets were initially shocked – you could see the literal change in their facial expressions or atleast that is what the person listening to the snippets vocalised. Lost in my web of feelings trying to get a grip on my shaking hands, freezing bones (in a 28 degree room); I didn’t pay much attention to another person’s reaction.

It was only recently that an acquaintance I had shared a few snippets with; whom I saw a few days later look at me withsympathetic eyes. I had shared snippets because saying it out loud makes it real for I have spent months wondering if my husband’s actions towards me were rational or even normal. I felt like one of the kids who rocked up to school with sevre burns (something they had no control over, couldn’t cover up) and all the kids would stare. Maybe even felt like someone with a facial disfiguration that people stared at .. not with disgust but with pity.

I tell myself every second of the day that I am a strong woman who can conquer everythig and that the world is her oyster. I do this so I can go on with my day as if nothing has happened, there’s been no change and I haven’t married a man who I am certain is seriously mentally ill.

When I feel someone’s sympathetic eyes on me, I feel upset, some what judged and the feel upset that I couldn’t say no or walk away or even best case scenario avoid this fucking experience entirely.

Thought to share in response to the Daily Post #sympathy.

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sympathy/">Sympathy</a>

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