April 1st, 2016

2013, cyd, new

Dear Diary, Did I Take it Personally?

Dear Diary,

Here’s how the conversation went down:

Me: Here’s the article, check it out. (hands him the laptop)

Him: Why is it here? I thought the New York Times was publishing you.

Me: Are you high? I never said that.

Him: No, I just somehow thought this, so what is this site?

Me: A chronic illness/mental health site.

Him: Oh. (disappointed)

A bit later . . .

Him: Where did they get this awful picture of you?

Me: I sent it to them as my author picture.

Him: Why?!? Why would you do that?

Me: Because it goes with the story, and I like that picture.

Him: It’s not flattering, and I would think you would wabt to use a sharper picture.

Me: It’s been enlarged, so not as sharp.

Him: Still, you should really think more about what you put out there.

Then I tried to tell him it went with the story, read the last line of the story. He snapped he was getting to the end, and read the last line of the submission call because he had already scrolled past my article without reading it. So, he didn’t get it. And yes, I did take it personally. His “douse every ember” methods have struck again.

And this, this right here, is why it took me an hour to open the email and post the link. This is why I didn’t get happy and giddy and celebratory. This is why I was nervous all night. Because I knew someone was going to trash it. And it was my husband. Over a fucking picture. He wouldn’t read the article. He says my writing is too “emphatic” for him. So he won’t even give it a chance, he doesn’t realize there is a difference between that and my journal writing. What the fuck ever. Dick.

I messaged my mom a link to the story. I thought I would tell her, instead of my Other Mum, who follows us on FB. I was really nervous after I did it, wondering what the fuck I just did. She responded this morning, “Really well written. Thanks for sharing.” was her reply. The nicest thing she has said to me in 16 years. So that was pretty fucking incredible.

I’m not sure what I am going to do today. I have a massive amount of photos to add to the Member Area. And all of the usual art stuff to work on if that gets boring.

2013, cyd, new

(no subject)

They took my article down off the front page of the site. I thought it would be up there for a week with the others. I guess not. So, my “shares” on FB topped out around 70 and my “likes” were in the 60’s. Not a bad ratio. I was just hoping to get a little more exposure. It was a fun few hours, though, waiting to see if any bigger publications noticed it while it was on the front page. And getting the traffic to the article was great. I mean, I wrote it to be read. I just kind of wish now that it had been promoted more, left on the front page, you had to scroll down and load more to see it as it was. Now it’s gone.

I said absolutely nothing to Doc. Oh, wait, I did ask him if he was in a bad mood last night, to see if maybe that is why he was such a dickhead. But he said no, he was in a good-ish mood, everything was fine with us. So, I win, I guess. He isn’t yelling at me anymore. I just have to sit around while he’s mean to me. Joy. What is it with men adopting me and taking care of me and then being douchenozzles when I show any bit of independence? You think, you would think, that they would want that, to unburden themselves. I don’t get it.

Ugh, now he’s being all weird with me. Is it time for him to go to work yet? I need an 11 hour break from the last hour and a half.

I guess that’s all I had to say. I’m feeling sorry for myself, and not good company. I was reading about a psychological concept, “ego depletion” – I tried explaining it to Doc, as maybe an explanation of my behavior at times when I’m stretched. But he announced it was just a way of making someone else responsible for your attitude problems. So, I’m not reading that anymore.

Heh, I thought, earlier this week, that things were better. No, they just got quieter, and have a saccharine tone of voice now.