Hard, But Necessary Truths

I’ve had some time to reflect on some hard truths that I needed to hear, some tough pills to swallow, but also, unbeknownst to me, very accurate. I learned a lot about myself and things that were not easy to read, but now that some have been pointed out, I can work on them. Previously, I thought my head was too far up my arse to realise that the key dominator in some of my friendship breakdowns over the past 5 years was not all about my wife but me.

Many of my close friends had voiced their opinions about my wife and kept their distance from her for a long time. Some are saying for years that it was time to up and go, or as the Tik Tok I saw recently called her a 12 (She’s a Dozen, she dozen cook, dozen clean, dozen contribute, she dozen anything). That’s their prerogative, and that’s fine. She is certainly far from perfect, often called a narcissist, nutcase, or just an outright bitch. There is nothing I can do to change her; she has been this way for nearly our entire marriage and will not change for anyone.

Sometimes, the little things drive me bloody bonkers, like never going out to pick up something from the store, just telling me to do it, or assuming that I will go, as she has mentioned that she wants XYZ. Or that I could count more phalanges on my hands and feet (I love that word!)—the meals she has prepared.

Now that I’ve nearly popped my cork over her and the lack of support or help I have gotten the past few years, several times I have questioned my marriage, so much that it’s become a discussion point with a few friends and during my last therapy session it was briefly discussed and is noted for a more thorough discussion next session. But as much as we haven’t had an emotional or intimate connection since before her cancer diagnosis, and of course, that was when I was going to try and start having these hard discussions with her, I still love her. She is my wife. But goddam, I hate her. I have a draft post written about her, but that is for another day.

The realisation of my shortcomings has been both sobering and emotionally turbulent. Acknowledging that I am the common denominator in many of my fractured relationships has forced me to confront feelings of guilt and inadequacy that I’ve long ignored. These revelations have led to many sleepless nights, where my actions weigh heavily on my chest. It’s not just about acknowledging these faults; it’s about coming to terms with their impact on those I care about. The emotional toll is immense, as it challenges my perception of myself as a good friend, partner, and individual.

I don’t self-reflect very often, but the past few days have made me do so; for someone who doesn’t like arrogance, I, too, am rather arrogant. I am not as important as I think I am, I am not the only person people can call for help, and I am not as good a friend to any of my friends as I should be. Due to my ADHD, I constantly interrupt others during conversations without meaning to be rude. I know it isn’t nice, but I can’t help myself. It’s bloody hard for me to control impulses. I’m nearly guaranteed to forget it if I don’t get it out. This pisses people off; it has upset people and made them feel ignored and dismissive, which isn’t my intention at all. Sometimes, people have reacted strongly, even telling me off. I need to work on it and find ways to manage it so that I can communicate more respectfully.

It has also become obvious that I need to do a tonne of boundary work to not overstep or, in my most recent mishap, completely jump over the line. Boundaries are set for a reason, the same reason people build fences, to tell us, “Oi fuckwit”, don’t cross that line. I need some fluorescent tape and mark that out for myself (another item to add to the therapist’s list). Help me learn this shit. More importantly, it helps me recognise and not interrupt, shut up and listen, learn, and be present.

For some of my friends, unless they are in front of my mind or if I don’t have a reminder set, I won’t call or text them for months. We still pick up where we left off, but it can be months. Laura and I only probably catch up once a year; we have both been that busy, but we do pick up right where we left off. She has always been a great friend. My best mate Pete and his wife Belle. I speak to him maybe once a month, probably more likely once every two months, but again, we pick up where we left off. Object permanence is fun, right?

Another shitty trait I have is cognitive distortion/minimisation. I avoid acknowledging and dealing with negative emotions by trying to downplay the effect of the emotion or issue so I can try and tuck it away and ignore it. Pop it back into the old filing cabinet for another day. I always knew that I did that, but having it pointed out was not fun but good to read.

As mentioned, some of these traits have been pointed out recently. One thing that blew me away, particularly as I learnt I do and realised just how accurate something else was, is that I have an over-inflated sense of self. I don’t shy away from name-dropping friends, family members, or famous people I know, or worse, lean on my class/noble status within my cultural community to show off;

With Great Power, there must also come — Great Responsibility! 
I need to work on my spidey senses and remember.

Therapy has been a cornerstone of my journey towards self-improvement, serving as a crucial space for confronting and understanding the deeper layers of my behaviour and feelings. A significant insight that emerged in these sessions is my persistent fear of inadequacy; some of the assessments show that my ASD is trauma-based, and some of the other traits I have resulted as a defence mechanism due to my childhood, which can be traced back to my childhood experiences as the oldest sibling. Growing up in an overcrowded 3-bedroom housing commission house with five adults and up to twelve children at times, my role extended far beyond that of a typical sibling. I was thrust into the role of caretaker, chef, cleaner, and organiser while trying to navigate the crucial years of high school.

Each day was a marathon of tasks, from kitchen maintenance, like washing dishes multiple times daily, cooking separate meals for children and adults, and managing regular deep cleaning. Home cleaning was no less demanding, with daily chores that included vacuuming, sweeping, mopping, and thoroughly cleaning bathrooms. On top of this, laundry was to be done daily, often multiple loads, with additional tasks like ironing school uniforms and managing the flow of kids and, more often than not, cousins always flowing in and out.

The infamous belt hanging on the back of the laundry door was a constant reminder of the consequences of failure. This environment instilled a profound fear of making mistakes, as any error could lead to physical punishment. The physical harm I endured, particularly the scarring on my back, was a brutal testament to the severity of these punishments. This physical trauma was not just a source of intense pain but also a lasting symbol of the fear and control exerted over me.

This environment taught me to internalize everything—to keep all traumas and abuses secret, especially since some of the perpetrators were friends and family of my parents. The fear of revealing these painful truths was compounded by the threat of physical punishment, which made the act of sharing or seeking help seem like an invitation for more pain.

In therapy, I have begun to unpack these experiences, recognising how they forged my compulsion always to be right and my inability to show vulnerability. These defence mechanisms were developed as a means to shield me from further harm and ridicule, a way to protect me from the kind of vulnerability that had previously made me susceptible to abuse.

Addressing my arrogance, learning to manage cognitive distortions, recognising the pitfalls of an inflated ego, and diligently working on boundary setting are all crucial steps on this journey. These elements are intertwined with my past behaviours and deeply influence how I interact in the present.

As I continue to navigate this path, I recognise that the road to self-improvement is not linear. It requires patience, persistence, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about myself. This process of learning and maturing is essential, not just for my personal growth but also for the health of my relationships. Only through this continuous effort can I hope to undo the patterns that have held me back and move towards becoming a more empathetic and understanding friend, partner, and family member.

As I continue to navigate this path, I recognise that the road to self-improvement is not linear. It requires patience, persistence, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about myself. This process of learning and maturing is essential, not just for my personal growth but also for the health of my relationships. Only through this continuous effort can I hope to undo the patterns that have held me back and move towards becoming a more empathetic and understanding friend, partner, and family member.

Thus, while I have much to learn and many ways to mature, I am committed to this journey. With each step forward, I aim to improve myself and enrich the lives of those around me. Once I have worked on these aspects of my life, then perhaps I will truly know how to be a better friend to people, a more supportive partner, and a more engaged individual.

To my lifelong friends, current friends, family, children, wife, past colleagues, and even past partners—I am truly sorry for the times when I wasn’t as supportive as you deserved. If I ever came across as closed off or indifferent, failed to show the caring and respect you needed, or did not acknowledge and appreciate your efforts and contributions to my life, I deeply regret my actions.

I’ve understood how vital each of you has been to my journey, whether through support, patience or by challenging me to be better. I am immensely grateful for having you in my life, and I am committed to being more present, thoughtful, and supportive going forward.

Thank you for being there through it all, even when it was difficult. Your presence and perseverance have not gone unnoticed, and for that, and for everything you’ve contributed to my growth, I am profoundly grateful and sincerely apologetic.

Everything is my fault; I’ll take all the blame.
– Nirvana