Broken Things and The Pong Theory
Some single women make lists of things to do to or that they have done to entertain themselves as they adjust to being single. I, on the other hand, keep a running list in my head of what is broken in my life, such as the following:
These are, of course, things I look at and sigh. Then I look at them again. Since life exploded, I haven’t had time to blink, let alone clean my house (which is an absolute, total disaster). So much for having more control at home. That lasted about a minute. It’s interesting that the more time I had, the more my children demanded. The three or four weeks that I was off, I spent more time in my car running children than I did anything else. So all these things simply stayed broke. But we had regular meals together at the kitchen table. That was novel.
Mr. Boyfriend? He called. And then he picked a fight, which I think is completely ridiculous. I’m developing theories about him and myself. I love the man, but you know what? I just haven’t been involved with him as a “boyfriend” long enough to truly buy into the drama that appears to be our “relationship”. I have hit a point where I just don’t think I’m THAT flawed. I’m human. Normal. I’m doing something difficult. We’re ALL doing something difficult and should respect and honor each other’s lives.
Bottom line? He’s probably not going to fix the kitchen sink or any of this other stuff. If the ex would have a really good month and be required to send me some of his commission, I know a good handy man. I’m thinking I’d have him come over, look at stuff, tell me what to buy for him and then have him come back and fix stuff and I’d, I don’t know spend a hundred or two to make my life a little easier.
I’d like to address the Mr. Boyfriend issue. Yesterday he told me that I was negative and never “built” him up. That I wasn’t any fun. That he desperately needed fun. Apparently when I laughed at the idea of me being unfaithful and his subconscious discovered that wasn’t going to work, he moved on to other things to pick at.
Why is he doing this? Why can we not just be friendly and happy? Why must things so drastically alter when friendship turns into something more?
I may finally have an answer. No, I’ve had the answer all along, I’m not a complete dumb-head. I just never believed it, perhaps because I was always too emotionally enmeshed to have any sort of objective eye. We create what we expect. He expects me to be unfaithful. He expects me to be a pain in the butt. If he whines and bitches at me long enough that might occur, provided I choose to be emotionally unhealthy and continue to interact with him.
THE PONG THEORY
A friend of mine envisions a moving Nike Stripe when she wants to motivate herself. When she told me this, I laughed. Something athletic motivating me? Not likely. Within a week I had a wacky visualization that works. Those of you that are old enough to remember Atari, remember the game ‘Pong’. I envision the pong ball in my head. I see the screen, like it’s on a T.V. I watch the pong ball – if it’s going in a good, easy rhythm from one side of the screen to the next, bouncing randomly as the pong ball appeared to do, I’m in a good place emotionally. If it’s going nuts and bouncing hard, fast and I can’t catch it with my pong paddle, I’m NOT in a good place emotionally.
At the point where things are not good, I then have to examine WHY I’m feeling that way. This helps, since I have lived in denial for so many years. Denial required ignoring my feelings, my needs and my wants. “No more”, said she. Once I know how I’m feeling and why I’m feeling that way, I ask myself what I can do to change it, so that my pong goes back to a nice easy rhythm. There’s always something, even if the situation is out of my control. It might simply be prayer or meditation. Or it might be actual control taking steps, such as hiring a handyman.
But in the case of Mr. Boyfriend, what I have discovered is that when he’s doing this stuff, talking with him rarely helps. So I don’t. When I work through the whole pong process, picking up the phone is not something that comes to me as an answer to calming it down. That’ll just make it more bizerk. If I follow this process, eventually, unless he stops this garbage, he’ll be out of my life. Not because I’ll write him out or call a halt to it, but I’ll fill my time with other, positive things. Which really, is what I’m doing. I love him to bits and I get that a lot of this stuff is his own garbage. I have a life to live and I will no longer allow it to be dictated by how some one else is feeling that particular moment. I can be a friend and listen and talk about things. But I can’t take responsibility for some one else’s emotional health. It’s a big enough job maintaining my own and my children’s.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Congratulations. I finally got it. Took me thirty-five years, but I finally got it. And yes, good people, I laugh when I explain the whole pong theory to others. It’s funny. I don’t know WHY an Atari game came to me as a measure of my emotional state, but it did.
So Mr. Boyfriend: take your complaint about “fun” and turn it on yourself. I have an Atari game in me. I’m a walking, talking, ball of fun. And best of all, I’ll never, ever give up my Atari game again.
- The kitchen sink. See previous post.
- The weed wacker. Damn thing starts and turns off right away. Asked neighbor about it, he shrugged. No help.
- Leaf mulcher. Worked for a bit and then began to make a horrendous noise. I ignored the noise for a while, but it just got louder and I could hear all my neighbors thinking what an idiot I was running the thing when there was so OBVIOUSLY something wrong with it.
- Outlet in hallway needs to be replaced. This requires working with live wires.
- Kitchen light burns out rather quickly. Problem with light or wiring?
- Fire detector needs to be replaced. This I could probably do, but when? Oh, I know, instead of sitting here making this list.
- All windows need to be caulked. Ex took all caulking out to paint house and did not think it necessary to redo. Huh.
- Cover for furnace needs to be put back on. For some reason I can’t do this. It rebels and falls off again.
- Garage door opener needs to have transmitter replaced. The whole process is a mystery.
- Front door wood frame is rotting. Needs to be replaced. Can you imagine if I did this myself? Do you know what that would look like?
- Ex-husband took off all rubber stuff that goes around all doors to keep out cold. Needs to be replaced. I don’t even know what you call it. I just know it’s gone.
- Patio is sinking in one corner. Needs to be mudjacked so water does not run into foundation of house. I only remember this occasionally.
These are, of course, things I look at and sigh. Then I look at them again. Since life exploded, I haven’t had time to blink, let alone clean my house (which is an absolute, total disaster). So much for having more control at home. That lasted about a minute. It’s interesting that the more time I had, the more my children demanded. The three or four weeks that I was off, I spent more time in my car running children than I did anything else. So all these things simply stayed broke. But we had regular meals together at the kitchen table. That was novel.
Mr. Boyfriend? He called. And then he picked a fight, which I think is completely ridiculous. I’m developing theories about him and myself. I love the man, but you know what? I just haven’t been involved with him as a “boyfriend” long enough to truly buy into the drama that appears to be our “relationship”. I have hit a point where I just don’t think I’m THAT flawed. I’m human. Normal. I’m doing something difficult. We’re ALL doing something difficult and should respect and honor each other’s lives.
Bottom line? He’s probably not going to fix the kitchen sink or any of this other stuff. If the ex would have a really good month and be required to send me some of his commission, I know a good handy man. I’m thinking I’d have him come over, look at stuff, tell me what to buy for him and then have him come back and fix stuff and I’d, I don’t know spend a hundred or two to make my life a little easier.
I’d like to address the Mr. Boyfriend issue. Yesterday he told me that I was negative and never “built” him up. That I wasn’t any fun. That he desperately needed fun. Apparently when I laughed at the idea of me being unfaithful and his subconscious discovered that wasn’t going to work, he moved on to other things to pick at.
Why is he doing this? Why can we not just be friendly and happy? Why must things so drastically alter when friendship turns into something more?
I may finally have an answer. No, I’ve had the answer all along, I’m not a complete dumb-head. I just never believed it, perhaps because I was always too emotionally enmeshed to have any sort of objective eye. We create what we expect. He expects me to be unfaithful. He expects me to be a pain in the butt. If he whines and bitches at me long enough that might occur, provided I choose to be emotionally unhealthy and continue to interact with him.
THE PONG THEORY
A friend of mine envisions a moving Nike Stripe when she wants to motivate herself. When she told me this, I laughed. Something athletic motivating me? Not likely. Within a week I had a wacky visualization that works. Those of you that are old enough to remember Atari, remember the game ‘Pong’. I envision the pong ball in my head. I see the screen, like it’s on a T.V. I watch the pong ball – if it’s going in a good, easy rhythm from one side of the screen to the next, bouncing randomly as the pong ball appeared to do, I’m in a good place emotionally. If it’s going nuts and bouncing hard, fast and I can’t catch it with my pong paddle, I’m NOT in a good place emotionally.
At the point where things are not good, I then have to examine WHY I’m feeling that way. This helps, since I have lived in denial for so many years. Denial required ignoring my feelings, my needs and my wants. “No more”, said she. Once I know how I’m feeling and why I’m feeling that way, I ask myself what I can do to change it, so that my pong goes back to a nice easy rhythm. There’s always something, even if the situation is out of my control. It might simply be prayer or meditation. Or it might be actual control taking steps, such as hiring a handyman.
But in the case of Mr. Boyfriend, what I have discovered is that when he’s doing this stuff, talking with him rarely helps. So I don’t. When I work through the whole pong process, picking up the phone is not something that comes to me as an answer to calming it down. That’ll just make it more bizerk. If I follow this process, eventually, unless he stops this garbage, he’ll be out of my life. Not because I’ll write him out or call a halt to it, but I’ll fill my time with other, positive things. Which really, is what I’m doing. I love him to bits and I get that a lot of this stuff is his own garbage. I have a life to live and I will no longer allow it to be dictated by how some one else is feeling that particular moment. I can be a friend and listen and talk about things. But I can’t take responsibility for some one else’s emotional health. It’s a big enough job maintaining my own and my children’s.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Congratulations. I finally got it. Took me thirty-five years, but I finally got it. And yes, good people, I laugh when I explain the whole pong theory to others. It’s funny. I don’t know WHY an Atari game came to me as a measure of my emotional state, but it did.
So Mr. Boyfriend: take your complaint about “fun” and turn it on yourself. I have an Atari game in me. I’m a walking, talking, ball of fun. And best of all, I’ll never, ever give up my Atari game again.
posted by New Day | 8:54 AM
2 Comments:
It is called weather-stripping, and I think it is pretty easy to put in. You should try to take in as many of those free loews and home depot demos as you can, and get yourself a good do it yourself book.
I was linked here from another site (www.afterabortion.blogspot.com) and I thought I would say hi, hope you don't mind. Oh and that laughing in the middle of a fight, or at some really inappropriate time, I have totally done that before, laughter is not always contagious!
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