Validation

I promised myself a couple of days back I wouldn’t continually write the “poor, woe is me” stuff. Yes, I know this is my space to do it, but after a while, it starts wearing on a person. Well, so much for the best of intentions.

So, to the title, validation. I’m going to come off as the biggest narcissistic cry baby man child, but I crave validation and acknowledgment. There were a couple of times many years ago while I was a teenager that I received a “good job”, but that all ended when I had to tell everyone I had gotten Vikki pregnant. From the age of 18 onward, I don’t remember being acknowledged or validated for anything I have done. No “you’re a great husband or father”, “you’ve done a great job” or even “we couldn’t have done it without you”. I must correct that, I was always acknowledged for mistakes and others’ wrongdoings, sort of like now with Patty, she cheated, lied, and broke our family up and it’s all my fault. I didn’t do enough to make her comfortable, my bad luck was always on purpose, or my favorite, I was not “man” enough to keep her satisfied. ** Side note: for the last few months of our marriage I was experiencing ED among a couple of other medical/physiological issues. So on top of everything I was dumped because I couldn’t perform and I had some ouchies. Now I’m struggling alone.

I realize people have said it and there are millions of “inspirational posters” that wax poetically about being your own hero and not caring what others think, but it would be so great to hear my “close” friends, my siblings, my ex’s, my children, or even my coworkers and boss tell me I’m needed, appreciated, or made them proud. Even a good job would help me. Now I’m fully aware that you guys have said it to me, I appreciate it, I do, but you and I both know that’s a whole different from those who are around you in your “off-line” life. 

I’m not, nor have I ever been a loner. I suck at it now, just as I did in the past. Am I happy with myself? Just about how everyone is happy with their selves. After 51 years, I think I’ve become very intimate with who I am, what I want, and what makes me happy. It’s not much, but it’s not going to happen. I will never be a father like my dad. I will never be missed or even thought about or worried about. It’s pretty apparent that I will struggle with medical issues alone and have no one there to hold my hand and assure me, let alone if the worst happens, to sit by me as I take my last breath. No, not as long as there are scumbags like her new husband that have no moral or honorable traits when it comes to another person’s marriage. Maybe I should become one of those men. Selfishly whispering thoughts into a woman’s ears about things to insight her fears and anger. Convincing another man’s wife that her husband can’t fulfill her or never could. Day after day turning her against a solid 20-year relationship and when all his manipulations get hold of her and multiply her own fears and she thinks the destruction of a man who was always good to her is worth taking the chance with him instead, he gets everything the man holds so dear.

I got to stop here, the homicidal thoughts are bubbling up in me and this is not what I intended to write about. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have not written this at all.