The Vine: April 7, 2005
Dear Sars,
My problem is my life. I am 23 years old and just finished a post-graduate
teaching qualification. I don’t have a job yet but plan on doing supply
until the right one (when a school says it’ll have me!) comes up.
I have always been a bit weird; I like my own time and I’m scared of pubs
and clubs. I don’t like big groups of people and I find it really hard to
make conversation with anyone. I get really uptight at the thought of social
interaction. I’ve always had a few friends but now I’ve only got one, who
lives a long way away and has got her own busy life going on. We haven’t
spoken for months because I really don’t have anything interesting to say. I
don’t wish to give the impression that I’m terribly miserable, because I
don’t think I am, and honestly, I’d rather spend my time reading a good book
than doing anything else but sometimes I think I might be lonely, even
though I get scared at the thought of other people, and even going out to
unfamiliar places. This makes no sense, I know.
I’ve never had a boyfriend because apart from the fact you need to leave the
house to get one and then not be completely socially stilted and boring, I’m
quite unattractive, with a nasty body, glasses, baggy clothes and very bad
psoriasis; most of the time I don’t care, but sometimes I wonder what it
would be like to have someone who liked you and didn’t have to.
Student debt (stupid tuition fees) means I’m living back at home which is
sort of nice, but comes with its own set of problems. My family has a
tendency towards mental instability (my grandmother is agoraphobic and
hasn’t been outside her house for 55 years). My mum cries every day that
she can’t stand her life any more. My dad and my brother don’t take any
notice, so I have to do all the comforting but I don’t think I’m doing a
very good job. My dad doesn’t talk to anyone anymore and drinks in secret
and smokes pot every day. My brother (aged twenty, also living at home)
seems to be okay at the moment but his arms are covered in scars from where
he’s cut himself with razor blades when upset. All of us apart from my
brother are on anti-depressants so I dread to think what we would be like
without them. In case you’re wondering how on earth I got through teaching
practice, I’m much better when I’ve got a specific role to play, such as,
obviously, being a teacher. It’s only when I’ve got to be me that the real
problems kick in.
Now for the main reason I’m writing — I’ve always had a problem with
pulling out my hair but I managed to tone it down about three years ago
after I made big embarrassing tufty patches on my head. However, another
problem started to get really out of hand. I pick the skin on my legs. How
ridiculous, I hear you say, but really, it’s like an addiction, I can’t stop
and I’ve tried and tried. I make big scabs and I can’t let them heal, I pick
them again and again until my legs are covered in craters and loads of
scars. I pull out the hairs on my legs with tweezers and if I’ve bitten my
nails too short, I use pins to gouge out bits of skin. I tell myself I
won’t, I WON’T, but then I can’t help it and then I despise myself for being
weak. I also pull out the hair in my armpits and my pubic hair. Gross, I
know, but I can’t stop it. I don’t want to go to the doctor, but do you
think a hypnotist would help?
I don’t know if any of these problems are linked or not, but once I started
writing I couldn’t stop.
I hope you are well,
What’s Normal Anyway?
Dear …Not This, I’m Afraid,
Your family has a history of mental illness; you’re clearly depressed; you’re suffering from a compulsive disorder. You need some help. I don’t care if you don’t want to go to the doctor — you need to go, now, to start dealing with your horribly low self-esteem and to get some medication to stop picking at yourself.
You pick at yourself because 1) you hate yourself and 2) it’s the only thing you feel like you have any control over. You’ll need a professional to help you break the cycle of hurting yourself and then feeling bad about it, so please, visit a professional. It’s time. It’s time to take charge of your life instead of settling for this twilight existence where you abuse yourself and think you’re ugly and boring. I mean, do you hear yourself in this letter, the way you talk about yourself, that you’re disgusting and dull? That’s no way to live.
Please, go to a psychiatrist and get the help you need. This isn’t your fault, you don’t have to be ashamed of it (and shouldn’t be), but it’s too big to dig yourself out of on your own. Get help. Soon.
Sars,
I’ve been married for two months now. Just like most other people who get
hitched, I’ve been blessed with in-laws. My mother-in-law is a wonderful
lady. My father-in-law has his moments. Thus far, I’ve ignored his
“moments” because they live five states away and I like what little time we
spend together to be nice.
In the past two months, I have yet to change my last name. I’m taking my
time and chewing on possibilities. I really like the last name I have.
I’ve had it for 29 years, and most of my friends call me by it instead of my
first. If my brother doesn’t have a son, the name is done and it’s
extremely rare.
I’ve practiced new names on my Cooking Club card and random mailing lists to
see how they feel. Variations such as MyFirst MyLast HisLast, MyFirst
HisLast MyLast, and MyFirst MyMiddle MyLast HisLast are all possible. My
husband doesn’t care one way or the other. Nothing changes officially until
I decide to go to the SS office with my marriage certificate and request a
new card. And if that never happens, then we’ll still be married, just with
different last names. My husband and I agree that I am the person this
whole name change thing affects the most anyway.
All of that being said, I recently sent an email to my mother-in-law (his
parents share an e-mail address). I usually email her once a week or so to
say hello and give her the scoop on us. I had changed my signature to
MyFirst MyLast HisLast, and mentioned in the email, “Hey, check it out, I’m
practicing my new possible name,” since that is the variation I will most
likely go with if I change.
I received a reply.
“I’m glad you know who you are now!”
That’s all. No hello. No how are ya? No, this is HisDad (I know it wasn’t
his mom). Nothing. And, it implies that I woke up one morning and
realized, “Oh my goodness! I’m MyFirst HisLast now! Whew. It’s a good
thing I got my head out of my ass! Silly me, thinking I was the same person
I’d been for 28 years before we were married!”
So, I’m struggling with what to do. I’ve got three ideas.
One: Ignore it. I’m inclined to believe this is the best choice. Do you
think if I don’t respond I’m telling him it’s okay to insult me? This isn’t
the first time he’s been condescending, and I’m afraid if I keep blowing it
off, he’s going to think it’s okay to thwart me.
Two: Respond. But what the hell do you say to that?
Three: Have hubby respond. He’s offered to tell his dad to back off. But,
I’m afraid Dad will think I’m trying to turn his son against him by having
him fight my battles. At the same time, if my parents said anything dicky
to my husband, I’d call them on it.
Am I overreacting? In retrospect, by pointing out my signature to my
mother-in-law, I suppose I opened myself up for comment. But, his mom has
been very understanding of my struggle, and that is who the email was
addressed to after all. Should I just suck it up and be more careful not to
open up sensitive issues for comment in the future?
So, thanks in advance for any wisdom you may have!
Sincerely,
Wishes Her MIL Had Her Own E-mail Addy
Dear Wishes,
Yes, you’re overreacting. “Insult” you? Please. It was a making-conversation comment, that’s it — a clumsy, somewhat presumptuous one, but you need to stop acting like he slapped you in the face with his glove or something.
I understand that the tendency of other people to think that their word on the subject of maiden names is law is annoying; I don’t see why anyone except the name-changer cares, I never have. But I think you’re conflicted about changing your name, and it’s causing you to get unnecessarily defensive.
What you do about your name is your choice, but the buttinskies of the world are going to have something to say about it whatever you choose. Accept that, rehearse a gracious subject-changing response, and get over it. This isn’t a battle worth fighting; it’s not a battle at all, in fact.
Hi, Sars,
So I had this boyfriend “Sean” for a while. We went to my high school prom together, and had such a good time in the summer between my senior year of high school and freshman year of college (he’s a year older than me, thus already was in college) that we decided to try long distance when I went away to college nine hours away from his school. It worked out surprisingly well; we made it through my freshman and sophomore years and first semester junior year without a hitch besides, “Damn, I’m horny,” which was a pain, but we found ways to get around the distance and when we did see each other, the sex was really, really great. We talked at least once a day, and I didn’t worry at all whether he was cheating, because I felt that I didn’t have to.
So near the end of this last semester, he calls me up an hour before my piano recital and tells me that we need to take a break. At first he pretends it’s just the distance getting to him, and our diverging life paths (he wants to be a small-town cop, I want to live in a city so I can have a job that I enjoy), but I drag it out of him that he had hooked up with “Claire,” a girl I know from visiting him. He had taken me to her birthday party about two weeks before this happened, and she and I got along really well even though I could tell he had a little thing for her and vice versa. This girl was headed to Switzerland for winter break, and Sean said that he just wanted a month to think things over without either of us there. I said that I wouldn’t be weighed against another girl, so we broke up.
So, I freaked out and messed up my piano recital and only barely managed to save my grades, and for a while I hated him and cried every night and all that. Then we started talking again, because we talked on IM every day for two and a half years and missed each other, and IM is an easy medium to fake lightheartedness in.
So for a while I pretended to be okay, I would talk to him every night on IM and we’d fall pretty easily back into our comfortable way of talking to one another, but every time he’d slip up and mention this other girl, or every time we’d say goodnight without I Love You I just would lose my sanity and start with the crying again. And if he didn’t slip up, I would start feeling the urge to pick pick pick at it: initiating Serious Talks about how talking to him kind of sucked for me, asking him about the other girl, stalking him on these stupid forums he writes on.
So every time we have a Serious Talk while Claire’s in Switzerland, he’s all, “I’m so so sorry that I hurt you, I still love you, I don’t love Claire, you’re my best friend, what if I’ve fucked up the best thing in my life, what if I want you back at the end of this and you’ve moved on?” and every time I try to break it off clean and stop talking to him, he’s all, “God, I don’t know what I’ll do without talking to you; I feel like I’m about to be hit by a bus and can’t move out of the way.” So after a couple rounds of that, I get the idea in my head that he still loves me, and we’re going to get back together eventually, despite all this. Claire comes back from Switzerland.
So then, while stalking, I find things on the internet where he calls Claire his girlfriend, mentions that she has spent the night, and is planning on going to Switzerland with her for spring break, et cetera. I ask him what’s going on, and he says that yes, he’s dating this other girl, he’s sorry if he led me on, it’s been so darn HARD dealing with this on his own without me to talk to about it, he’s having an “existential crisis” because of this whole business, he thinks he’s a monster, and then he tries the “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, I’m about to get hit by a bus” thing again. So I finally, finally lose my temper and scream at him and call him a coward for trying to keep me around and to fuck off, and we haven’t talked since. I mean, it’s been a week and a half, but we haven’t talked since. My record of not talking to him is about two weeks, and I’m terrified that I’m going to get weak and start talking to him again.
I guess my question is, how do I come back from the crazy-stalker place where I am right now? I no longer fantasize about getting back together with him, because really, what a dick, but I think about them together all the time, I stalk their blogs and away messages, and all it makes me is more sad and more crazy. I WANT to talk to him again like I assume people want heroin. Also, I am afraid of getting with someone else, because sometimes right after I finish using my vibrator, I start to cry uncontrollably. Which, you know, might weird out my hookup just a little bit. I mean, how long am I expected to be crazy like this post-long, knock-down drag-out breakup?
Also, how do I know if Sean’s telling the truth, if it is really killing him to not be able to talk to me anymore, or if he’s just using my “friendship” to tell himself, “I’m not THAT bad a person if she’ll still talk to me.” Is it possible for two people to break up this messily and still be able to be friends after a period of getting over it?
Please help with this, I hate the fact that he’s turned me into a crazy girl who doesn’t know her own mind anymore.
Love,
I’m Not Like This Usually, Really
Dear “Like This” Happens To The Best Of Us,
What I am about to tell you, I am telling you because you need to get that Sean is a fucknozzle. Okay?
Sean doesn’t love you. He may have, once, but he doesn’t love you anymore. He is in fact using your friendship so that he can feel like less of a cockbang about how he treated you and ended things — and when he says he can’t live without you and he’s confused about Claire, what he means is, “Claire isn’t here, and I’m so insecure and unstable as a person that I have to feel like I have, or could get, a girlfriend at all times instead of just waiting it out.”
He is a selfish ass who doesn’t understand that he can’t treat people this way, because nobody has ever given his actions real consequences.
I am not telling you this so that you can correct the behavior, or give him the consequences, or fix him in anyway. I am telling you this so that you hear and understand that he is not worth any more of your time — not IMing, not checking his blog, not worrying about what this poor stooge Claire is getting up to. You need to cut him out of your life completely. Don’t speak to him in any medium. Don’t check up on his activities. Whatever you need to do to stop knowing about him, do it, but as of right now, he does not exist.
The instinct to rip the scab off by checking his sites and blah dee blah is a natural one, but you have to go against it — you have to make a complete break from this guy, because he’s never going to stop fucking with your head otherwise, and again, you are not doing this to punish him. He is irrelevant to you now. You are doing this for yourself, because you do not need that kind of pantywaisted “but I neeeeeeed you” crap in your life. If he needed you so bad, he could have transferred to your school or, oh, I don’t know, NOT CHEATED ON YOU LIKE A WILL-POWERLESS TWERP, but he didn’t and he did and fuck him, thank you, goodbye.
He is not an asshole because of anything you did; you’re not an asshole for not spotting it sooner; this isn’t your fault. But you need to move on without him in your life, at all, because he’s a dick and he’s not a good friend for you. Get rid of all his contact info, enlist your friends to make sure you don’t contact him, whatever it takes. I know it’s hard and it feels like the pain will never stop, but it will — it does. You just have to stop exposing yourself to it. Stop. You’re better than that.
Dear Sars,
I love my husband, so that’s not the problem. The problem is that he has the absolute worst morning breath in the world. As in, his mouth smells like butt. This is even when he does brush his teeth at night (which, admittedly, he doesn’t do every night, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference). Is there anything that can be done about this? He doesn’t have poor oral hygiene overall — no rotting teeth or infected gums or anything like that. He goes to the dentist regularly. I cannot understand how his mouth could possibly smell so foul. Any advice?
Sincerely,
I love you, dear, now take this Listerine strip
Dear It’s All In Your Signature,
Nobody’s breath is like a puff of Elysian lavender in the morning. Your husband probably knows he has bad morning breath, because…everyone does, including you. It’s morning breath; it tolls for thee. So, keep a pack of Listerine strips in the bedside table drawer. If anyone’s feeling smoochy in the morning, you both pop a strip. Nothing to it.
Dear Sarah,
I’m having a bit of a problem here.
I have a dear friend, Tracey. We’ve been friends since we were four. Drifted in and out of each other’s lives throughout the years, but have always tried to keep in touch. I met her husband (then boyfriend) over ten years ago and the only thing I remembered about him was that he was kind of a jerk.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, I babysat their kids while they went to play broomball. When they finished, they stayed a while to visit. I still had my reservations about the guy, but after fifteen years together and nine years of marriage (not to mention their three kids right in my living room), I thought maybe the dude had mellowed out. Uh, yeah. Not.
At some point he said, “Well, we should probably get out of the boondocks and head home.” In jovial, friendly conversation, I replied, “You two are the ones in the boonies!” (They live over an hour from the city, I live less than ten minutes from the capital in Saint Paul.) Well, the stick up his ass must have splintered because he looked at me and kind of looked around, gave my place the Snob Scan and said, “Well, WE have a house!” BFD!! I was nice about it at the time, but wanted to kick him off my balcony. I’ve been grumbling about it ever since.
They are due back this week for another game and I’ll have the kids. Do I have a right to tell him to get out? Won’t that jeopardize my relationship with Tracey? Should I even care?
I’d love to hear your thoughts!
EQ
Dear EQ,
Well, yeah, telling someone’s husband to get out of your house doesn’t tend to make them all that fond of you. I mean, you’ll do as you like, but at the time, you should have told him politely that you didn’t appreciate his snobbish comments when he was a guest in your home. You didn’t do that. Again, if you want to bar him from the house, it’s your house, but don’t expect Tracey to go along with it.
The guy was rude; I’m not saying he wasn’t. But to go from zero to “GET OFF MY PROPERTY” is out of proportion. He’s an insecure asshole; who cares what he thinks?
Next time he says something insulting, call him on it right then instead of seething and planning a reaction that doesn’t fit the sin.
Tags: boys (and girls) etiquette friendships health and beauty the fam
