Betty Draper and Me

So I wrote this essay a couple of years ago as I was reflecting about the end of my marriage:

As my eight year marriage comes to its inevitable end, I’ve been rewatching the series Mad Men. When I first watched the series, I admired Joan and Peggy for being strong female characters in the show but I always thought there was something about Betty Draper that I could relate to. It’s strange to think about considering she’s a white upper class sixties housewife in New York and I’m a working class millennial immigrant Latina woman in Georgia. It’s hard to grasp that there would be any similarities between but there are many indeed.  

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Betty and Don at Fancy Event

 

(Me and Hubs at my brother’s wedding reception)

Betty feels trapped in her suburban idyllic existence and often times feels frustrated; I’ve also felt this way throughout the past fifteen years. Betty wonders if there is more to life than what she is living which is rearing children and being a good wife; I’ve constantly wondered the same thing except that I have the added burden of working.

Don, Betty’s husband acts like she should be happy with her life and gets mad at her when she shows real emotion, kind of accuses her of being crazy and sends her to a psychiatrist that he secretly talks to about her sessions without her consent and knowledge. My husband never went so far but for most our relationship he did accuse me of over reacting and/or accuse me of being crazy if I got β€œemotional” about something and/or brought up needs that weren’t being met in our relationship. It always felt that I was expecting too much out of our relationship for wanting normal things in a relationship. My husband has also acted like I should settle for what the little he can give me in terms of companionship and be happy with that since he was. For a long time, I felt that maybe I could and should settle for this but settling made me miserable for several years. 

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Don also kind of stopped investing time and energy into his marriage. He  took Betty for granted because they were married with two children and hid behind his work and his many dalliances. My husband was never one to make time for us or continue to woo me in any sense after we started living together. Instead, he hid behind the raising of our children and the fact that he was always tired. He could never spontaneously compliment me and I was always either too fat or almost too skinny for him.  Betty overlooked Don’s lack of affection for several years in the same way I overlooked my husband’s. I feel that this had to do with how women are conditioned to be polite and swallow their emotions because again–we’ll be accused of being crazy and/or hysterical. 

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The beginning of the end of Betty and Don’s marriage started when Betty eventually gets fed up after having one of Don’s affairs rub in her face and throws Don out but later they get back together because she finds out she’s pregnant with their third child. Don does try to be a somewhat better husband but eventually goes back to his philandering ways. There have been a few times throughout our relationship that I did try to break up with my husband but because he always apologized and said he would change, I always took him at his word and wanted to believe he would change. We even planned our third child and got married shortly after getting pregnant. I think I subconsciously did this because I thought a baby and a marriage would be the band aids that would fix β€œus”. 

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Betty eventually gets tired of Don’s lack of effort and also his lies and eventually asks for a divorce, she tells him something like, β€œI don’t feel anything when I kiss you”; it seems that this was when she knew that it was over for her and Don. For me, it took me a couple of years to be firm in my decision to divorce my husband. I think that I finally realized that there was no way I could continue the faΓ§ade of our marriage when I realized that I no longer cared that he didn’t notice me or felt anything remotely like romantic love when I kissed him. It took him a while to understand why I wanted a divorce since he was happy with β€œus” and his main concerns were, β€œwhat about the taxes?” or β€œwhat about the kids?”.  But like Don, he eventually agreed to it and said that he wouldn’t fight me about it. It’s kind of eerie that women like myself can still relate to a sixties housewife when it comes to relationships, marriages, and the stigma of divorce.  I’m sure that people wonder why I would stay in a stagnant and awful relationship/marriage; that’s simple; I loved my husband. I thought that loving him meant that I had to settle for a marriage devoid of any real affection. I thought that the love I felt for him would be enough to change him one day. 

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Poetry: My Adonis

He lies in the scent
Of our lovemaking
On love stained sheets
From β€œus”

He lies with an
Angelic look on his face
With a recently delivered
Afterglow of new love

He lies in the freshly made world of intimacy
We have just created

He lies with eyes shut
And heavenly blood red lips
That call me baby

And I get ready to leave
With dreadful
Back to the reality
That doesn’t include
My Adonis

Poetry: By Starlight

Me in 2018 on the way to see C

By starlight 

I saw the brightness of the moon

As he sat next to me 

Talking to me about nothing 

And yet everything 

All at once

By starlight 

I saw the shadow 

Of his large hands

And felt the roughness 

Of them as he 

Clumsily held my hands 

In his

By starlight

I saw the silhouette

Of his muscular legs

As he nervously 

Inched himself towards me 

And I felt his warmth

By starlight 

I saw the smallest 

Shimmering of the stars 

And felt his tender kiss

On my neck as he pulled my hair

And I felt the newness of love 

Poetry: Never

I can never compete

With a lifetime of love, of memories

Of him knowing her 

Even when she breaks his heart

Over and over and over again

Even when I let him break mine

Over and over and over again

It’s a vicious cycle of  love, heartbreak, and regret

A cycle where I continue to break my own heart

Because I will never be pretty or skinny 

Like her

I will never be enough!

Poetry: Winning the War

I can’t live without you another day
But I have to stay away
You are now part of my past
To you, I was another piece of ass
Even though I wish your love was mine
Without you, I will be just fine
Because no matter how weak I get
The memory of you, I must learn to forget
So with these few words I may win the war
On loving you no more

poetry: awkward

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

I’m a classy bitch

I’m ready for steak dinners and an expensive bottle of chardonnay
shared over awkward getting to know you conversations
with no expectations to put out
I’ll be a completely different woman when I’m dating again
a woman selective about who allows near her
a woman who no longer seeks validation and attention
from the wrong men

Poetry : Changing

Somewhere in Athens

I saw him in a new light-

In the light of the most intoxicating feelings of love

I didn’t want to at all-

But he made it all so easy-

Loving him is like breathing

I went from a bitter and depressed woman

filled with constant existential dread

to this new woman  filled 

with laughter and hope–

Maybe just maybe his love

cured the pessimist in me

Maybe just maybe his love

Changed me

poetry: glass of champagne

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

a toast to this woman

a glass of champagne in my hand as I raise a toast
who I used to be
a woman mentally ill and needy
a woman who gave men easy access to her hips
a woman who thought intimacy could only be created
and felt in between her sheets
we say goodbye to the his woman lovingly
as we usher a new era of me
a woman who knows her worth
and won’t settle of anything less
than she deserves

Poetry: Border

me in the summer of 2019 when I wrote this poem

There is a border around you

Cemented with callousness

Every now and then 

I see glimpses of good-

Within you

But only on the nights

When you are drunk and lonely

Only the nights

When you want my skin 

To cover yours

You give me orgasms 

And sweet compliments

And fill me up with lies-

And the day after

Your border is closed

Its impenetrable

So hard to break through

So hard to keep loving you

So I give up

Every time I TRY

To chisel a little at it 

My heart hurts

and breaks a  little more

So I”ll stop trying to break through

No matter how happy you make me

For a few hours

You’re not worth

Days, weeks, and months 

Of misery 

Poetry: Once Again

Again and again and again

-I let you back in 

You take me in passionately

    and intensely

And without thinking

I’m back in your arms

  And for the briefest of moments

I believe you love me 

 Loneliness makes one blind

To the sad reality 

You just like the convenience of my hips

Lust makes one blind 

To the hard truth

You just like to use 

The warmth of my body

To covers yours 

At your leisure 

poetry: rebranding

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

soft girl energy

I look forward to the day when I’m no longer known as the writer with BPD
when I no longer make my mental illness a part of my brand
when I’m no longer dependent on my ex husband
and antipsychotics to survive
when I finally start to resemble something like a normal person
and not the vehement emotional mess I usually am

poetry: four letter word

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

imagine fumbling all of this

you could have been my forever muse, my forever thot
But like the others before you
you don’t know what to do with a woman like me
maybe my ingenuity is to blame for this
wanting to live in a delusional daydream of love
instead of grounding myself in reality
and radically accepting love is just a four letter word
in my vocabulary that wrecks and ruins my sanity

Poem : Numbness

Mood

The numbness comes back 

and there is nothing to fill the void

Running, drinking, dancing

Nothing stops the thoughts

about deleting myself

from this cesspool called life

What’s the point?

To love and get your heart 

crushed over and over and over again

I had come so far

and to think this one

was well different

But once again

I was wrong, so wrong

Love stories aren’t meant

for people like me

Because I’m too much,

Too hard, too crazy

To ever be truly loved

But I keep going, I keep continuing 

One step at a time,

One day at a time

to live

Because that’s the right and brave

thing to do

poetry: buspar

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

image of me when I tried to quit Buspar

I wanted to kill my sex drive so I stopped taking buspar
and while my sex drive has finally waned
the side effects are slowly killing me
between the mental fog, the constant headaches,
the nausea followed by the loss of appetite
there’s a reason they tell you to wean slowly
from psychiatric drugs, to do it under the care
of a medical provider
stopping cold turkey lends to a spiral of madness
and a physical ailment I never intended