So apparently my husband loves me. He really does. He just needs me to change a teensy little bit. All he needs is for me to never scream or yell, never criticise or nag, be consistent with every thought, word and deed I express, never complain or say or do anything that may result in conflict and never bring up the past. Above all I must always be happy. That shouldn't be too hard, should it? Hopefully I'll be getting a lobotomy for Christmakkah and then all will be very Stepford indeed.
Hubby believes he has cornered the market on being reasonable and rational. He sees himself as the bar that we should each aspire to reach. Gosh I wish I was more like him. Emotional repression looks like so much fun. The key to being reasonable, I have discovered, is never raising your voice. You can be as cruel and as emotionally distant as you want as long as you don't yell. Maybe that was why Hitler got such bad press. All that yelling at those rallies was certain to eventually offend those genteel WASPs. If you're going to murder millions, at least have the decency to do so quietly, thank you very much.
I, like most other Jews, was raised in a house of yellers. My mother yelled, my father yelled, my sister yelled, I yelled. And guess what? We all still yell. And I don't think that's such a bad thing. I don't believe that because I will occasionally raise my voice that I am a bad person. I don't believe that yelling equals irrational. Yelling means, "LISTEN TO ME GODDAMNIT! I AM SICK OF SAYING THE SAME SHIT TO THE SAME PEOPLE OVER AND OVER AGAIN. YOU MUST TURN YOUR ATTENTION AWAY FROM RIVER COTTAGE AND PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT I AM SAYING" or something like that.
According to hubby his wishes for me to change reside in his desire for us to be 'happy'. And that's not a bad thing. But the reality is you're not always happy and at those times I want honesty and truth. I want anger and sadness and whatever else is making you feel miserable. I want the mess of life and emotions, with all the tears and tantrums that come with it. I don't want civilised cups of tea on a white linen couch. I want the rollercoaster. I am the rollercoaster. And I want that to be okay.
Marilyn Monroe once said, "I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." Well I say, Merry Chistmakkah to you Marilyn! I suspect underneath all that coy, heavy lidded flirtatiousness was one hell of a yeller. I suspect that you too found that in the end men wanted not the woman you really were, but their version of you. The toned down, somewhat muted and, in all probability, far less entertaining Marilyn. I hope you never allowed them to press that mute button. I hope you saved your best for you and for those who truly accepted all of you. I hope that in the end you told the men in your life who couldn't handle you that it was their weakness that was the problem, not your strength. I hope you told them to take their reason, rationality and refinement and stick it up their incredibly tight arses.
But then again, look where you ended up.
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