Married Life | Téa Brennan's Stuff.

Married Life

August29th

Messy.

Posted in: General, Introspectives, Married Life
I am so full of shit and I just suddenly realised it.

I know, I know, you’re all like “tell us something we don’t know”. But, stay with with me.

Today I wrote a blog post about the end of my marriage. But I did leave out one little detail, and that is that I am actually quite mean when I want to be. Or, in this case, manipulative and cruel.

The thing that started all of this discussion? How much I flirt on Twitter, particularly with a handful of guys. It’s always been innocent and fun, all about the joke, how far the joke can go… pushing, etc etc. At least, it was for me. I have this thing where I will take a joke and hammer it till it dies. Add in some people that encourage that and it generally heads gutterwards pretty quickly. But I am all about the joke.

Now, it’s not so much the flirting itself, but the fact that Jason just not seeing it the same way as me magnified all the other issues that have been brewing for some time.

So, anyway, we clashed on it. Jason argued that me making gutter-jokes on Twitter would give men the wrong impression… that I was interested in them, whatever. I maintain that as adults, most of us married, it’s a joke and everyone knows it is. I am so not this @tealou person. I consider it a persona, a bit of fun, some flirting with happily married people who ALSO get the difference between joke, exaggeration & reality. And then I was told that people take it all on face value, and, well, yeah.

Which of course not only spoiled my fun, but it also made me assume the worst of everyone. Yes, for me, it’s all about the planting of a seed with my insecurities and then they blow into a full-blown paranoia. Which turns into a big “FUCK YOU YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO”… and that’s what I’ve been doing the last few weeks. Very publicly poking and prodding and daring Jason to bite. On some subconscious level I guess it’s easier to end a marriage if they hate you, I don’t know what the hell I am thinking. But…

Again, having what I perceived to just be jokes along the lines of The Man Show, turned into something… weird and creepy and self conscious. I am a little shitted off about it, but, being a self-aware and reflective type of person, has realised that I probably went a little too far, in an attempt to prove a point (and also hurt him, which, ironically, is not what I set out to do).

So, while the last post is obviously how I feel, I don’t think it’s necessarily fair not to acknowledge that I have also decided to break up my family, and just want to be alone. The Twitter stuff? Meh. Whatever. But I also acknowledge that I pushed it too far in an attempt to make it easier to break up.

So now I have decided to grow up, separate, without the stupid childish shit. Because my marriage is over, but, I d0n’t need to a) drag others into it or b) lose my dignity in the process.
August29th

Scary times, new frontiers, and WTH

Posted in: General, Introspectives, Married Life
A few weeks ago, I told my husband that I wasn’t happy and wanted to go our separate ways. I have threatened this before, usually during an argument, but… this time, I knew it was different, because it was calm. No fights, no events, nothing…. just… it has been a cumulative thing over a period of about 3 years, where I have come out the other side, suddenly realising that I am different. OK, probably not different, but, just, braver about speaking out. It is hard, writing about this stuff publicly, knowing that I live SO publicly in so many ways… but when it comes to the crunch, I am actually fairly private.

Initiating a separation is harder when the person you are married to has done nothing wrong. Well, nothing deliberate. Because the thoughts are not of getting out of a toxic situation, or an abusive one, or even wanting to be with someone else, but with having to explain to people that it’s just not right for me anymore. Because no matter how I look at it, on the outside it just looks selfish. I feel selfish and mean, and it brings up a lot of issues about my mother and her moving on to another man and ignoring her children… all sorts of things. But, at the same time, I didn’t choose to be married to someone who sits on the spectrum, and if I had have been aware, I probably would have ended it. People keep on asking “what happened?” and offering condolences, etc… but… I feel…. flat. They say that the initiator of a separation often moves through the grieving process prior to making the final decision, and I think that that is what has happened here. My marriage was in trouble from the beginning, and propped up by various events, dramas, the job of raising children, we never had the chance to actually evaluate our relationship.

And because it’s not his fault, and he is a good person, and I genuinely like him, but we just have a completely different outlook on everything… and I feel stifled. Like I can’t even have my own thoughts and feelings anymore without needing to run them through a filter (that will inevitably put it down, or find something wrong with them)… and… I have realised that I am actually pretty special. And I don’t mean that in an arrogant way… but… that… I am really smart. I have BIG ideas and see the world very differently to most people. And I used to think this was a problem with me fitting in and that it was actually me. But, I guess part of growing up, is realising that your ‘weaknesses’ are often only in the context of what other people expect you to be.
- I am not domestic.
- I am not an… attentive… partner.
- I am in my own head.
- I am a dreamer.
- I am selfish.
- I am neurotic.
- I need to be reassured. CONSTANTLY. Incessantly.
- I expect full attention with my shit, and don’t listen if I am not interested in yours.
That’s been my whole identity for most of the marriage. Feeling like I need to be less of a dreamer, less of a brainiac, less selfish, less neurotic. Some of those are issues, like, me thinking the world revolves around me, sure, but it wasn’t my strengths, which are many, but about focusing on my weaknesses, and, feeling generally crap about myself all the time because I could not fit into the “wife and mother, part time careerist” model. It was the expected role… my search for meaning being treated as laziness, flakiness and instability, rather than as adventurous, seeking and positive. My marriage, simply, makes me feel bad about myself. Every day. Because the communication difficulties with someone literal or semantic, when you are into exaggeration and hyperbole, erodes you over time. Someone who likes adventure and impulses and enjoys just laying on the beach on a school night… is not compatible with someone who is not only worried about it being a school night, but will go ahead and remind you how right they were when you are tired the next day. A person who doesn’t value money, or mortgages, with someone who love routine and security…. well… it’s just not a good mix. I feel emotionally abused, even if it is not the case – and he does too.

And it sounds like I am slagging him off even when I am writing it… but I am not. It’s just a major, philosophical disconnect, couple with a fundamental incompatibility… that…makes both of us bring out the worst in each other. And I am by no means saying that I am doing Jason a favour by initiating the separation, because that would be so arrogant… but I honestly think that he doesn’t know how he deserves better than that. We BOTH do. And it’s not a matter of seeking counselling, or whatever, we have done all of that. I am now just realising that there is another alternative… which is rather than suffering in quiet, simmering resentment and miscommunication, DAILY, we separate and try to salvage a friendship while we can.

Our friends tell us we belong together, it’s all just so much external pressure. Internally, I feel we should not have gotten married in the first place. And I think that when something so fundamental is incompatible, it’s hard to come back from. I always had the view, even if it is naive, that you should have them ‘get’ you. Like, really get where you are coming from. They don’t have to agree – that would be dull – but to truly understand how each other ticks. And I haven’t felt that way in this relationship. Because of the pressures of needing to have children fairly young, low confidence in my ability to truly… attract someone without ulterior motives… I settled into the relationship that felt comfortable. Because it is comfortable. We are friends. But, we don’t have a marriage.

And it sounds cruel. It sounds like I am leaving him, taking him away from his children because I want to go and find someone else. That’s not it at all. I want to find out who *I* am. Because I have never known. I know that I am clever, and funny, and flawed in a million ways, but everything I have ever done has been in reference to either survival, or in reference to other people. It sounds like the lamest reason ever to end a marriage. But, truth be told, I would prefer to be afraid and lonely and tired… than to live another day in a relationship where both of us resent each other equally. I think Jason sees things my way too and I think that he agrees – it’s hard to tell with him how he’s feeling… but… I think we were limping. In a huge rut. And it really just took someone to actually say it loud and mean it.

So while you might be shocked to hear the news, or might not understand… remember that it’s internal. It’s how I feel. And I feel pretty shit because of it. But, I also don’t want to be 40, 50 and 60, having the same ridiculous conversations because noone had the balls to say that it was an unhealthy relationship.

We may figure it out in the end… and of course that would be great… for everyone else. But, you know, even if I end up being the bad guy in all of this, ultimately all I am answerable to is myself and my children. And they deserve a positive environment as much as I do.

I hope this gives some insight.
June20th

Vacation

Posted in: General, Married Life, Motherhood Rules!
Before I talk about our holiday, I need to explain something.

My husband, as much as I love him, does not do ‘impulsive’ terribly well. In fact, if you could describe my husband, one of they very first words you would use would be “not” and the second would be “impulsive”. For all of his excellent qualities, he’s not what you would call… a go-getter. The man still has clothes in his wardrobe from when he was 16. And a $5 note in his wallet from 18 months ago. He’s not a spender either.

So when Jason walked into my office on Saturday morning and said “hey, we should go for a drive to Busselton and stay for 2 nights”, he may as well have said “I have decided I want to be a lady and I am going to go on tour with the drag burlesque travelling circus, k?” and I would have reacted in much the same way. OK, not really, I probably would have expected the second.

But, he suggested it, and we booked into the Abbey Beach Resort based on their website. On the beach? Wireless? Check. Mini bar? Check. Restaurants with room service? Check… and check. $600 for 2 nights? Well, if it has wireless and is luxurious and has room service and a spa, well… let’s just indulge for a little while. We have a funeral on Monday afternoon we’d rather not think about.

Let’s not forget, we have 3 children – all of whom are not known for being the most flexible on the planet. But, they roll with it as much as they can and are happy to come along. Which is just as well because we blew our load on the hotel room and can’t afford a babysitter. So, it was basically a choice between a holiday or being locked under the stairs.

But of course, it doesn’t take long for the feral to kick in and I feel the urge to do both.

We arrive at a $300 a night “beachfront” resort that has glimpses of the beach (if you look past the 3 tennis courts and the giant tree), no mini bar, no room service in the apartments. The wireless costs $10 for 2 hours, but doesn’t reach our apartment. There is a queen-size bed, which we can live with but we are not used to, and our children are that lovely combination of excited and cranky at the same time. So, about every 3 minutes or so the jumping around and screaming will be interrupted by crying. And then the baby will go straight for the dishwasher buttons, then the knife drawer… whilst Jason and I try to figure out how the hell we are going to have dinner in our room because the kids are too tired for the restaurant.

So I hit up the lounge bar with my laptop, check emails and drink a glass of wine whilst I wait for our takeaway dinners. Which arrive on 4 plates and a tray. I have a laptop. It should also be noted that the restaurant is roughly equidistant to our room and the lobby… and they bring me the meals to the lobby. Which was nice of them, but I a) don’t understand why they can’t just bring it to the room and b) I now have to carry 4 plates and a tray back to our room. I smile through gritted teeth. Confused, perplexed gritted teeth. Oh and some bright spark decides to wolf whistle me on the way which, you know, made me feel sexy. Fuckhead.

By this point the baby is screaming and won’t go to sleep. Mina and Jules are basically ready to hit up the drawer with the baby and have a knife fight with each other, and I am at my wit’s end because I have had to carry food across a $300 a night resort with no wifi and am grumbling to myself how holidays are so much fun with kids.

We finally get the kids to sleep around 11pm and I decide to have a spa. A spa that, as it turns out, has a drain 2/3 up the side to prevent you filling it above that point. Apparently they’ve had issues with it flooding because people overfill it. And then it occurs to me that bogans ruin EVERYTHING. Then I think “hey, I’ll have one of these “indulgent” hot chocolate sachets they’ve laid out. Mmmm, powdery, lumpy, snotty cocoa.

Did I mention that the baby threw a spatula off the balcony yet?

We then go to bed for a very uncomfortable night’s sleep and wake up with the day ahead of us. Tired, cranky children but we manage to have a nice breakfast, where the resort redeems itself just a little bit. We stop by the resort playground, where the baby manages a triple somersault onto his face and Jules throws a tantrum or two. We hit up the beaches, go into Dunsborough, have look around and take some photos. The kids start complaining of dying hunger (despite having huge plates of ginger pancakes an hour and a half earlier), so we go and get them McDonald’s. Yes, the Brennan children are all about our lovely local Southwest cuisine. Sigh.

And then we head down to the Busselton Jetty and go for a walk. Mina and Jules go down onto the beach and I take some photos. And before we know it, both of my children are in the water, in full clothes, having the time of their lives. And for a brief moment, I want to tell them to get out of the water, but instead I just roll with it and take pictures. And laugh. And relax and realise that they are having fun and so am I, for the first time in a very long time, and we just enjoy the moment.

And boy, did I get some photos.

We return to the hotel room (where I have managed to purchase wireless access from the Caravan park next door), the kids are happy, soaking wet, getting out of their clothes. They jump in that crappy spa, Angus goes down for a nap (after again trying to eat a dishwasher detergent block), the kids start whingeing and Mina gets belligerent.

But I go and have a nap.

I wake up to Mina complaining she’s bored and Jules playing Angry Birds on the iPad. Jason and I then see fit to tell our children what OUR childhood vacations consisted of: poo in a bucket, showering from a bucket (at which point I said to Jason that I hope it wasn’t the same bucket), hanging around a holiday village where the most thrilling thing was a trampoline… and 7 people in one caravan. And our daughter was complaining that the resort playground was boring. Hum. The older two again start bickering and we endure dinner in the Brasserie, where they make so much mess it is embarrassing, I am wearing dress boots with tracksuit pants (because I forgot a bag), and the baby smears $30 seafood risotto all over his face. And the carpet.

I look over at the young honeymooners at the table near the fire and realise that we are that family that either ruined their honeymoon, put them off having children for the next 10 years, or if their wedding was because of a baby in her tummy already, scare the crap out of them that they are just a few short years away from wearing tracksuit pants in a restaurant, drinking wine a little fast, and barking at her kids to sit down every 45 seconds.

Naturally, we have to leave the restaurant and take dessert back to our room because the kids are tired and bickering… and we finally get them to bed at 7:30, get to enjoy each other’s company for a little while, watch the first episode of Mad Men on DVD and then off to sleep I go because I drank my wine a little too fast during dinner.

And this morning we’ll be having breakfast, where they’ll find new and creative ways in which to embarrass us with food smears and tantrums, and then we head home for my Grandma’s funeral and one of the hardest days of my life. But, in amongst all of this, I realise that this was the best idea ever and even though holidays are exhausting, frustrating, and sometimes downright disappointing, it really is all about this moment. This $1200 moment.
April2nd

He.

Posted in: Letters, Married Life
He is stable. He is kind. He puts up with me even when I am so unbearable that noone else can.

I take him for granted way too much.

He wrote me a beautiful, romantic blog post this morning for our 8th wedding anniversary. He went out and bought me a massive box of chocolates, encouraged me to sleep in, and saved me 2 hot cross buns to have for breakfast.

I wrote my post late and didn’t buy him chocolates. He constantly picks up my shoes, tolerates my moods, takes my abuse.

And then he writes beautiful words that make me fall in love with him all over again.

I am good at writing about intellectual things – being able to get straight to point, find the right words for most situations. But when it comes to my husband, it is always so hard to articulate, because what we have runs so deep – I know that no matter what happens, we always just end up being… us. Where we have been together through how many life-threatening, marriage-breaking, rift-causing things together – and still somehow come out the other side. Where we will often have differences of opinion on the little things… but on the big stuff… we will just have this unspoken understanding that the other knows exactly how you feel.

We lost each other in the last year or so. We got distracted by too much stuff. Too much pain, too much illness, too much depression, too much stress. We don’t get enough time to spend together, to connect, to just hang out.

We met at high school in music. He was the cool guitarist, I was the snobby choir singer. I remember thinking that Jason was way too "cool" to want to collaborate with me… but he did. We did embarrassing school performances together, I sang foul-mouthed lyrics on the lawn of Government House. He played a Fender that kept dropping out of tune. He pretended to miss his bus so he had to stay the night at my place (smooooooth) and we’ve been together ever since. Well, except for that 6 month break we don’t talk about.

Now we are grown ups. We have 3 children and 4 guitars. Neither of us play much anymore, but I want to change that. Our seven year itch turned out to be a dirty big case of blistering hives… but we just keep on keeping on.

And I take him for granted because he lets me get away with it. He’s dependable, stable, kind and forgiving. I have never once felt limited by him and that is something that I wish every woman could have. I hope my daughter meets a man half as wonderful as her father.

I like to say I don’t need anyone, but Jase, I need you. I need you like I need air and water and constant reassurance. I need you and I love you.

t
March8th

On coping and surviving.

Posted in: General, Introspectives, Married Life, the googletubes
I have had a shit week. In fact, I have had a pretty shit 2 years which really all just came to a big lump of big fat fruition this week.

I’ve had some bad luck, made some poor decisions, met some people whose only interest in me is what I can do for them… you know… lots of little things that have culminated in a week where I felt like I was in freefall.

Freefall in my marriage. Freefall in my business. Freefall with my health… you know… just… an unending feeling of complete lack of control.

There have been lots of times when this has happened in my life… and I mean lots. The kind of individual life stresses that happen to normal people, ruin their lives by happening once, have happened to me pretty much consistently since birth. In fact, if you can name a [first world...] trauma, I’ve lived it.

I am not what you would call a “lucky” person, if pressed to answer in such dichotomies.

But you know, in many ways, I am. Because part of this is also means I am equipped with tremendous emotional strength. I am a good fixer. After I initially fall in a heap, process information round and round and round again, I eventually come out the other end with a set of solutions to fix it and continue to survive until the next crisis. I am also compassionate, and empathetic, and all of those things that come with going through grief.

For better or worse, social media, and my over-use of it in those times, makes it hard to explain, in the moment, that I am moving through a process. My updates have quite a distinct pattern if you look hard enough… that usually after a day of melancholy, grief, depression, processing… I emerge with solutions to my problems.

And, most importantly, I ACT on those solutions.

The problems of the last few years, 95% of which have been completely out of my control, have put tremendous strain on our marriage. And, despite having a successful business, the personal financial implications of workplace injuries, worker’s compensation, medical bills, new babies, extremely poor financial advice etc… are threatening to take the business with it.

Yesterday, it felt like both my marriage and my business were over. Today, after a day of reflection, problem solving, I am sure that I can dig the business out of the hole. Maybe. The marriage, well, that is going to require lots of work… but you know… this is the warts & all of social media, my friends. Yeah, my marriage is in trouble and neither of us know what the decision is just yet. But you know… that’s life.

Social media, like nothing else, is a warts & all accounts of moments in time. Our innermost thoughts and impulses are public… and reading back on it sometimes leads to embarrassment… or accusations of “overshare” or whatever. But you know what? It’s my network and I really don’t care if people have this view.

I often post updates on social media networks to try an reach out to friends for some advice, reflection or support. Some of you help, some of you don’t. And that’s ok, because over time, I start to get a sense of who is truly there for me and who isn’t. Mostly in the “isn’t” pile, but hey, that’s ok too.

I have lots of acquaintances, well wishers, superficial friendships where, on my good days, it can distract me from the fact that I have no 100%, no-pretence, no-conditions, warts-and-all friendships, except for my marriage. I don’t have a mother, or anyone else I can rely on when the only true friendship that I ever had starts to fall apart around me.

So I turn to Twitter, I turn to Facebook… because you know, some token friendship and advice is better than none.

I am lonely and I admit it. I am human and I admit that too. And sometimes, I exercise poor judgement… I admit that. But you know, I get to connect with people I wouldn’t ordinarily connect with, and sometimes I feel just a little bit less like a brainy outer space alien that can’t connect on a meaningful level with any other person… and a little more like I have friends.

Even if they aren’t real.
September7th

Podcasting and picking on disadvantaged groups

Posted in: Funny stuff, Married Life
Jason and I were sitting on the couch the other night, watching the wheelchair basketball at the Paralympics. One of our old schoolmates is in the Aussie team, has one prosthetic leg (that he had back then), and it led to a discussion about the… umm… cut off point … for what state the legs must be in to play wheelchair basketball at an elite level. The interesting thing was that this guy also kicked arse at "normal" basketball, because Jason used to play against him!

It then led to a game of speculating ‘who had what’ disability. Based on the muscular tone of the legs, or absence or legs, we speculated who was a "full" paraplegic, who was an amputee, etc. After a good… 5 minutes of this discussion, Jason then also lamented how he wishes that he could cut his left foot off. He has a neurological bone problem in his ankle that makes it extremely painful to walk for too long, and I have often sympathised with him and said that I would consent to him being amputated if it was ever ‘mangled by accident’… because then he would be classed as a "disability" rather than just a "fat fuck with a bad ankle". And we could sit and collect all that fat disability cash.

Anyway, our conversation descended into how to go about the removal of said foot without being charged. It was at that moment that I realised something. I turned to Jason and said:

"See, we have to be together forever, because there is noone else on this planet that would ever put up with either of us, talking shit about disabled people like that."

In that vein, we have actually decided to start podcasting. Sure, we might only have 3 people listening, but we think its going to be a fun step. The idea is to give some people some insight into the bullshit discussions that 2 weirdos like us have. I am thinking it will be no more than half an hour, once a month or so, in which we either:
1. Publicly share our grievances with one another
2. Allow me to get on one of my comical rants
3. Talk shit about disabled people and other underprivileged and completely-undeserving-of-our-pisstaking members of society
4. Make you realise the grumpy old man in a 29 year old body that I live with, and laugh at
5. Answer questions from our listener(s).
6. May even be an appearance or two from Mina, if she is so inclined.
We think it’ll be fun. Submit questions for the first one and as soon as we are settled in at the new house, we’ll do our first one. Should be a blast, I reckon.
August15th

2 conversations that reveal why I love my family.

Posted in: Married Life, Motherhood Rules!
We were watching some weird Hippo-related animation that was making fun of a donut eating hippo that hides in the water so as not to dry out his skin, then has a facial mask and weirdness.

Jason: "No wonder they’re so grumpy"

Me: "Yeah, I’d hate it if I had to lay around avoiding the sun all day"

Jason: "What do you mean? You do!"

I gets no respect.

Between Jason, Mina and Me:

Jason: "Well, you never know, Mina could just end up a HOUSEWIFE. Would you like that, Mina?"

Mina: "hmmm…. no!"

Me: "No, you want to be a big business lady like me, don’t you?"

Mina: "Well, no, not a fat one!"

I’ll tell you again, I gets no respect.
April1st

HAHA – April Fools’ded

Posted in: Funny stuff, General, Married Life
Oh man, I just got done…

I went to order a product from ThinkGeek that looked really cool… not that I have much use for it, but it seemed really quite awesome.

And it was an April Fool. Dammit. Now I want it even more!
February16th

Errr… Happy Valentine’s Day??

Posted in: Funny stuff, Married Life
I just received this in my inbox from an anonymous “concerned friend”:

I thought it was one of my friends playing a joke – because – well – you all know what bastards you are. :)

Turns out it was from my HUSBAND.

He didn’t get me a card for Valentine’s Day, so I guess that this counts? Does it?
August27th

Why we will be married forever… Part 2

Posted in: General, Married Life
I have my business account that has the most money in it most of the time, and Jason doesn’t have access to it. To be able to get cash, I need to give him a slip of paper with the details on it EVERY SINGLE TIME so that he can remember my 4 digit PIN. Yesterday, I resolved to go out and get cash – and the conversation went in a direction you wouldn’t expect. Again.

Jason: “I would automatically fail the “spy” test because I can’t remember names and numbers”

Téa: “I would totally ace that part. I can remember numbers from everything. In fact, I don’t think there is an area where I would fail “spy” school”

Jason pauses, trying to think of something…

Jason: “Well… well… uhm… you’d fail the ‘Hiding behind lamp posts‘ part!”

Niiiice.