fandomsecrets | [ SECRET POST #5394 ]

[ SECRET POST #5394 ]

⌈ Secret Post #5394 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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02.

[Hello from Halo Head]

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03.

[Naked Lunch]

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04.

[The Musketeers, Richelieu]

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05.

[Gangsta]

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06.

[Babylon 5]

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[Clockwise from top left: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous, Steven Universe, Undertale]

Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 02 pages, 31 secrets from Secret Submission Post #772.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

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This sounds terrible and unfeeling of me, but I hate it when my husband cries. He doesn't do it often and I believe that man have every right to express their emotions just as women do. But when he cries, it sounds... fake. Like awful and weird and fake. Literally like "Uhhhh HOO HOO HOO", etc.

To be clear, I don't think he's faking. It just sounds like someone who's faking crying, and doing a terrible acting job. It makes me mad because the circumstances in which he cries are often at the height of a heated argument where we're both very upset and I feel like his emotions are real, but kind of... unjustified? For example, we frequently argue because he tends to take me and the things I do for granted. It took numerous battles to get him to do his share of household chores and you can pretty much insert all the helpless man-baby excuses of "he can't see the dirt so he can't clean it up" and "he'll do it later" and "he's too tired to do [15 minute task] but not too tired to play computer games for 2 hours". I get tired of reminding him to do basic adult stuff, and he doesn't like being nagged about it but refuses to do stuff on his own.

He's somewhat aware of his failings to "adult". It embarrasses him, which makes him act defensively and petulantly, like a child. That pisses me off big time because I'm tired of being patient and sweet and reminding him that if he fixes himself lunch (which was also a battle, he used to wait until I made him a sandwich) he should clean up afterwards. At some point you just want to say, it's not hard, wipe up the fucking crumbs and smears of mayonnaise you left all over the counter. Do it as soon as you finish making the sandwich. Do it before you start eating the sandwich. DO IT EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU MAKE A MESS INSTEAD OF LEAVING IT FOR ME TO CLEAN UP.

That's when the tears come. He's soooooo sorry. Uhhhh HOO HOO HOO! He tries sooooo hard! Uhhhh HOO HOO HOO! He'll try harder. Etc. I feel absolutely rage at these moments because he's not the victim here. It took YEARS of fights to get him to feed himself, pick up after himself and he still backslides on a regular basis. If you're still reading, it probably won't surprise you to hear that his mommy did everything for him and never once made him feel like hey, maybe you should clean the bathroom yourself once in a blue moon, or at least learn to not to piss all over the seat. HE'S NOT THE VICTIM HERE. I AM NOT A BAD PERSON FOR DEMANDING THESE STANDARDS. THESE STANDARDS ARE NOT HIGH STANDARDS, THEY'RE EMBARRASSINGLY LOW AND HE'S STILL NOT CONSISTENTLY MEETING THEM. If anyone should be sobbing my goddamn face off, it should be me. If anyone deserves sympathy and a hug, it's ME, not the fucking 30-something baby who can't clean up after himself.

...

Ladies, don't marry a manchild. It doesn't matter how much you love him and would die for him, if he can't be a fully functioning adult on his own, you'll end up wishing you'd never met him.

girl, you sound like you are on the train to divorce town tbh

Oh, I know it.

I have been... almost exactly in that place, down to specific circumstances you outlined, and getting into arguments where I did tell my s/o "I am not your parent, and I do not want to be your parent."

We might have been able to work things out if I hadn't been dealing with my own issues at the time, and having neurological symptoms that meant I was unable to be present much of the time myself. Turned out after s/o left (mutual agreement that it was the best option) and moved back in with actual parents, s/o had 24-7 support and could go to therapy regularly and got an actual diagnosis which explained how things like "I'm too tired to wash the dishes but now I will sit in front of my computer until 3am browsing outfits for Sims" happened basically every night. Now with medication, s/o is a fully functioning adult with a fulfilling job and a good living situation.

Not saying it's the same thing - it sounds like your husband has confessed that he just honestly never learned how to take care of himself (but maybe isn't that interested in changing?). I just... sympathize. Especially the "it doesn't matter how much you love him and would die for him" part.

Different anon, but uhhhh, asking for a friend, do you know what sort of medication would help in those sort of situations where one would feel constantly tired but stuck in front of the PC for hours?

Not the name of the medication off the top of my head, but the diagnoses involved depression and ADHD. Apparently the latter usually presents much differently in adult female-bodied persons than the stereotype our generation learned about as kids, so it never occurred to anyone until s/o got the help they needed, with someone who actually recognized it. (I believe the clinical term for that particular symptom is "executive dysfunction" - you know you need to do things but just can't make yourself do them, or you start doing something and can't make yourself stop.)

And it wasn't like "pop a pill and find the will to move", of course. It took months of regular medication before they felt stable enough to say "okay now that I've got something that's working, this is what's been going on, but it IS getting better..." I am incredibly proud of them and glad we're still friends at least.

Goodness, thank you for the words of wisdom, and I'm glad that you're still friends with them. It does make me feel better and have some hope that even the way that I am that there can still be a positive outcome.

Glad if I could be of any help, or at least comfort.

These are tough things to deal with, but indeed - they can, in many cases, be overcome with hard work and a good support network around you. Unfortunately (as noted in the other comment) the same things don't work for everyone so it really may be a Herculean task.

I hope you can find a solution, anon! No matter what your brain may tell you, you are worthy.

These behaviors can be symptoms for any number of issues. You really can't follow someone else's treatment model and hope it works out.

Exactly. (anon they were asking)

Just yesterday saw friends discussing their experiences with the same depression med on FB, ranging from "this actually made me want to die" to "this is the first time I've been able to get out of bed without a huge struggle in 15 years". It definitely requires someone to work with you as an individual and the willingness to try different things (and in different doses) over time to find a solution that works, and that's even if it is a chemical imbalance and not something else going on.

And then there's cases like my mother's bipolar, where she took one medication for 20 years, then it stopped working suddenly and we found her wandering downtown unable to speak and she was in and out of hospitals for the next five years while they tried to find a combination that both worked and didn't have debilitating side effects.

Psych meds definitely are not something to go into without expert professional guidance, and ideally people around you who are familiar enough to say "hey, something doesn't seem right here, are you okay?" when you may not be the best judge of your own state of mind. It is a hard road, but not impassible.

Is he like, a demon in the sack or something? Otherwise, why have you settled for being this adult man's mommy for *years* when that is obviously not your kink?

It seems like his crying and the way it annoys you aren't really the core issue and you already know that, though.

You have my full sympathy. Not the same situation here, but my husband does use crying as a tool of manipulation when he knows he doesn't have a leg to stand on, and it enrages me.

You have my sympathy. You already know that he isn't a victim of your basement level cleaning standards and that's good.

I had a pretty similar situation, he would forget to do things and I would get pissed and he would apologize and feel sad and forget to do the thing in a week. I don't really know when it changed, but it has. There were a couple of big moments, I threw an absolute shit fit (I don't recommend it) and put notes on every item in the kitchen he had fucked up in some way (I distinctly remember how I lettered the "MOLDY" in "You left the coffee grounds so long they're MOLDY") and cried about how I couldn't take it any more and he took the impact of his behavior on my happiness more seriously after that. One time he swept crumbs off the counter right onto the floor and I got mad and he said "I'll sweep it up later" and I said "You don't sweep, I do. You're knocking it on the floor for me to clean up and that's fucking mean" and I guess he got it. Hasn't done it sense. Eventually we moved out of the house in which he had lived as a bachelor. (I still fucking hate that house and won't go near it! Unlike you I'm a mad woman I guess.)

He's still not great about doing the dishes or hanging up laundry but he's gotten much better about cleaning up little messes and he's on top of household tasks I don't like and he doesn't invite people over to see our filthy dirt hovel of shame without giving the floors a good sweep&mop, cleaning the guest bathroom and clearing off the table dining room table. (And he's learned to lie about how much time/effort went into cleaning for guests!) And we haven't had mold on anything but abandoned leftovers for 6 years.

I'm sure I'm not that encouraging because I'm a slob too. But. There's hope; he has to do it. And that's the most frustrating part.

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[ SECRET POST #5394 ]

Late night confessions.

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