I owe you an apology for my first few posts, allow me to set the record straight.
Writing for no one has been my one and only outlet since, damn, the fifth grade? It is my meditation, my introspection, my existential crisis brought to some distant clarity. So forgive the drama and the shitty writing. This is me, writing for my own gain, and hopefully I will grow the balls to share it with someone who will welcome the blips of teenage-style angst that boil over sometimes.
I hope to dive into less emotional things soon, but right now this is where I am at.
I work three jobs. At my primary job I deal with death in a very first-person way about once a month, and illness every single day. In my second job I check out 100% and perform mindless tasks in construction. And finally I work on cars, which indulges my OCD in a special kind of way, allowing me to be alone without being isolated.
You know I was raised as a radical Christian, and that my marriage is quickly disintegrating. You know I’ve got a secretly dramatic side. You know I’m (probably) a mid-twenties dude, and you know I’m running on fumes. What don’t you know? Mmm, confession time. Let’s talk sex! Next time….Red Riding Hood it home.
We shall call my little wife Red Riding Hood since she is neither a fictional character, nor does she wear a red hood. We met at work. She was a couple years younger, yet she was finishing high school and moving right into early college classes (point for home education). She could almost out work me, which was worthy of a solid jaw-drop. We weren’t allowed to date, and our families preferred to call it “courting” whenever we talked about it.
The idea of courtship was the first ingredient into what became our marriage. You see, dating was this bottom shelf idea for short term, shallow, selfish relationships. Meanwhile the holy courtship was intentional, selfless, and pure. That’s what we were told.
Red Riding Hood and I grew up together, discovering so much about life. We have never experienced anything at all without each other in the last several years. Our friends seemed to idolize our relationship while our families looked on with tentative pride.
Ingredients for a marriage too soon:
- Early dependence on each other emotionally, physically, mentally.
- Youthful passion, un-tempered by life’s experiences.
- Pressure from the social tribes to commence things.
- Lumps of self-doubt that haven’t been kneaded out yet.
- Poor examples of marriages.
Combine at 21 years old, add thousands of dollars for a wedding neither of us enjoyed, and let the “honeymoon phase” begin.
Hello to whoever stumbles across this. For some reason my little brain has convinced me to write down the story of my life in this moment, anonymously. I realize that the internet has seen its fair share of anonymous profiles with fake names and vague details, but this affords me some privacy. I ask that you would respect that, not only for me, but for my tentative wife, my Christian fundamentalist family, and the people I connect with.
I was not born with the name db15078. In fact I was born with a very normal Biblical name, as was my brother, as is was my wife. These two people mean more to me than I could measure, and yet we are drifting apart. My wife has asked for a divorce, will not call herself a Christian anymore, and “has feelings for someone else.” My brother is taking the step I never did and moving away for college, never voicing more than a passive encouragement when we talk about Biblical literalism and the struggle between secularism and fundamentalism. Needless to say, writing has offered an escape, and perhaps reading this will be a respite for someone else who is refining their perspective on the world.