Dr. Frankenstein was a Monster Too

I’ve never felt such an overwhelming desire to just give up, let it all go, let come what may. Yes, I suffer from depression, but this is more than depression. This is the heavy burden of creating monsters that now seek to repay me for my transgressions – transgressions that are real and perceived.

I don’t know where to start, and I’m not sure anyone reads this, or cares. This is me trying to counsel myself. I’ve been cleaning my pole barn and realized I was throwing away items I have kept and cherished for years. I thought at first I was being responsible, a grown up, but I realized I was purging because I just don’t care anymore. Things that once brought back fond memories are now reminders of how awful life has become.

Sure, I am keeping certain photos, ones that will always bring me joy – my daughter hanging upside down in a tree, my son with his backpack on a scout trip, but it seems to stop there. I used to have many passions in my life. Some have run their course, ended, by choice or not. Others have ended out of circumstances I don’t always understand or didn’t prevent.

When Victor Frankenstein created his monster, he did so out of scientific curiosity and a desire to fill a void, maybe, in his life. Most everyone knows how that worked out. It was a Pandora’s box that he couldn’t close back up. I’m not sure I want to close the box, destroy it, or continue to pull monsters out of it.

My children hate me. This isn’t a debatable issue. My daughter blames me for all her life’s struggles. Maybe she’s right. I don’t know. It’s something I’ll always question. I tried. I made mistakes. I try to make up for them with her children, but that doesn’t seem to be working out either. They hate me as well. Their problem is that they’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.

My son has no faith or trust in me. He won’t let me see my grandson without him being with us. He gets mad when life puts obstacles up to prevent visits. Could I try harder, yes, but life is already so hard. I love my son and am absolutely crazy about my grandson, but I guess feeling it isn’t the same as showing it. I get that. I really do. It’s hard to visit someone when the people in the room have no affection for you and you know they don’t trust you. I just don’t get the last part. I dedicated my entire life to my son from the day he was born. He meant the absolute world to me. But I’m not trusted.

I can’t put myself through the emotional torment anymore.

I’ve screwed up my marriage. I’ve changed. Some of it is physical (medical issues, medication), some of it is emotional (stress and more medical and medication issues), and some of it is just us finding out that we are not perfect and dealing with the little things that irritate each other (more me than her).

We are not living the life we had planned. I injected my three granddaughters into our home and she was, and is, supportive of taking care of them. How, though, can you not let this type of situation affect your marriage? Oftentimes, it feels like we are in a bad business relationship and neither of us can afford to piss the other one off. I love my wife, and I hope she still loves me, but something is different. I feel the whole thing is devolving, and I don’t want it to. I want her to look at me the way she used to. I want her to want to do things with me and not jump at opportunities to leave me at home alone.

One of the things that was so special when we met was the way her family treated me. I was family from day one. Her father passed over a year ago. It was sad, but I don’t know if I handled it as well as I should have. Daddy issues. Her mom is in a nursing home now. She has been there for a year maybe. I haven’t visited because I’m afraid of contracting MRSA. I have almost died twice from that. Her sisters who, I think, used to adore me barely acknowledge me anymore. I guess they see I’ve ruined her life too.

As I said earlier, I used to have a lot of passions. I loved gardening. I loved bringing up vegetables, canning them, making wonderful meals from them. My garden is now a weed pit, partly due to the horrible weather we’ve been having, but we’ve had horrible weather before and I pushed through. Sometimes you just want somebody else to be excited like you are. Now it just feels utilitarian. I have no desire to try to regain control of it right now.

I’m slow at everything I do, especially home remodeling. It is part physical, part mental. I let things get in my head, and I seldom finish anything. I know there’s some deep-rooted issues there. I just can’t flesh it out. Any more, I do these things out of guilt rather than accomplishment. I did recently remodel the living room. I actually finished it, save for a few touchups that will be done when I complete the hallway. I felt I accomplished something good. It was to be a nice surprise for my wife, because she’s been wanting that for a long time. The response was underwhelming. I finally finished something and it was “meh.”

I found myself with one “hobby” left that actually held my interest: writing. I’m 60 pages into a memoir/poetry book and have been for about two months. One writing group has been on a kind of hiatus due to holidays and schedules and that has slowed me down a bit. However, the other writing group has sucked all the passion out of my passion project.

My integrity, my honor, my humanity was questioned and, though my actions were adult, responsible, and righteous, I’m now the “reason for the turmoil.” I’ve yet to decide how I am going to proceed. Part of me wants to stay and be aware that my actions are not the issue, and part of me wants to leave because there is a small number that perceive my actions being the issue. I can with 100% confidence say that I am not the issue. But I care about other’s feelings too much at times and cave for the sake of others.

Friendships are practically non-existent. I have a few and am terrified I will do something to jeopardize those. It’s just a matter of time.

My projects, family, relationships are my monsters, and I am theirs. I don’t know how to proceed in a way that makes them happy while at the same time protects me. For all my gruff exterior and boisterous rantings, I’m a sensitive, scared person. I don’t know if I’m Dr. Frankenstein or the monster, and I’m tired of trying to figure it out.

Let’s talk soon…