Archive for January, 2011

In as much as counseling seems to make things worse, I’ve decided to have my husband go alone for a time. He agrees, which makes it even better.

Am I perfect? Without sin? Is it all his fault? No, no and no.

Last night, I got to thinking (which is never good where this is concerned) and a cascade of emotions, whys and the like came crashing down. Stress in my life? Blows air through cheeks. Just a bit. Distraction only works so long and then melt down occurs. At least for me.

I cried for a while trying to come to some sort of acceptance or alignment with all that’s been going on. When that didn’t happen, cause and effect was examined. We start to relax with each other and then we go to counseling and it gets strained and tense between us. This is not conducive with rebuilding the relationship, in my limited experience opinion.

The recurring theme of the meetings seem to be my husband and his string of issues. He would like for me to be part of his treatment plan. I’d like nothing more than to be left completely out of it. Please consider we’ve been married for closer to thirty years than twenty.

My husband is the youngest of four children. Not one of mine. To get involved means to be in a position of blame. It simply isn’t going to happen anymore. I see where I’ve been responsible for trying to ‘help’ him and it never ends well for me. Never. He must walk this path alone.

I’ve got my own stuff to deal with and to add his onto mine isn’t an option. I’m replete of the energy required. An empty balloon is a good analogy for my emotional energy reserves. This needs to be addressed, for me.

What does the airline attendant say? Help yourself BEFORE helping those around you. Yep, that’s what we need to do. Adding stress, distress and all that other happy nonsense is getting us no where fast.

Getting back to the meltdown. I finally decided to go speak with my husband. It took a few minutes for me to stop crying enough to express myself about the counseling and I finally asked the question which has plagued me since I found out about the virtual  affair, “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Anyone who has been betray in this manner is sure to understand my question. My head knows what he did is on him. My heart and ego are slower to follow.  The question seemed to bring him up short, as if he’d never entertained the idea that I would have that reaction to his actions.

He told me he beats himself up daily and I said, Good. And then we chuckled a little bit.

I also told him if he hurt me like this ever again, no one would ever find the body. (please note, I catch spiders and release them to the out of doors.) He understands, I think. We’ll see.


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I’ve been so incredibly busy this week I haven’t had time, nor energy to think about anything except what is in front of me. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could live here forever? Okay, so I’d eventually wear out and be the worse for it. One must still say HooZah! for the reprieve, regardless of how short.

Can I just say, I’m not at all impressed with counseling. At this point I’m not sure why I’m there. All we discuss his him. His conditions. His pain. Him, him, him.  Yeah. I get to say things, but he always brings it back to him and his……………………………..GAHHHHHHHH!

I’ve got another insane schedule next week. I like not having time to think about me. Frankly I’m rather weary of trying to explain myself. I’ll muddle through, and then life should get interesting. Not sure how, but it will. Cuz things need to change.

Puts on music and starts to dance in my chair. Life is too short for so much angst! Hey, Ho… feeling the beat. Bobbing head.. love chair dancing.

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We spent a really nice day together. Wandered around a RV show very companionably and then to have a very nice lunch. We watched a movie this evening and then he started to talk.

Talking is not necessarily a good thing. Again he started in about his pain, his shame, his insecurities. When he started in about the virtual affair, I cut him off. I told him I really didn’t want to talk about it, but he pushed on. How self-centered can one person be? I started to cry and then he was all beating himself up for making me cry. I’m so sick of this BS. Cuz you know it’s all about him.

What a jerk he is. How damaged he is. His pain. The list goes on ad nauseam. And you know I’m supposed to make him feel better, ease his burden.

When I started to tell him about my pain and anguish, guess what he said? I don’t want to talk about this. I quietly left the room. Nothing has changed. It looked promising, just a tiny ray of sun and now? Nothing, back to the start.

I feel as if I’m beating a dead horse. Maybe I am.  At the moment I don’t know if I want to keep going to counseling. If it’s all about him, perhaps he should go by himself.

In the mean time I’ll keep taking steps to create the life I want. With or without him. As scary as being by myself sounds, it looks a lot less painful.

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I went to the counseling office a different way last night. I got lost. Blank stare. There is nothing more exasperating than knowing you’re close but being unable to figure out how to get from ‘here’ to ‘there’.   I got there with a minute or two to spare. I hate being late.

This session was a little better, in-as-much as my husband didn’t throw up an excuse for everything I said. Progress is progress, right?

There are somethings which I’m perfectly content to take care without interference from him. The bills come to mind. Money has been a constant point of contention with us, and the only way it works smoothly (as in no collection notices, and the other sorts of fun mayhem) is if I do it by myself.  I’m holding firm on this point.

Now that he seems to be awake to the reality I live in there seems to be a fighting chance this could work. Problem? He’s hell-bent on being a martyr. Okay, you screwed up; big time. Can we move on now? You’re not done feeling sorry for yourself? Em, okay. It’s all about your pain? Really?

Call me a cold-hearted bitch if you’d like, he created his own pain. He didn’t listen to those around him telling him things were skewed. Why or how I got through this time is a mystery for the ages. I’m not interested in anything other than how we are going to move forward. Vent your pain, but don’t expect me to hold you up through it. Nope. Not going to do it.

While he’s busy feeling sorry for himself, trying to drag me in to kiss his owies, I’m in pain too. There has been no emotional or physical support for a number of years. I’ve been on my own and you know what? I don’t have anything left to give anyone else. This wife is flat-out tired of taking care of herself and everything and everyone in the household.  Tapped dry.  I’m supposed to support you because you feel bad you cheated on me, lied and were a rotten husband? Em, what about you supporting me, buddy?

So back to counseling. I’ve mentioned before that I can predict when my husband is going to have a manic episode (for lack of a better description). He thinks I should be responsible for pointing these out to him. Blank stare.  Why? Because you’ve listened to me in the past? Oh right, let’s make me responsible for your actions.

The results of this are far too clear to me. I will stay his mother at some level. If he goes manic and I don’t say anything it will be my fault. If I say something and he doesn’t like it, then a resentment is formed.  Looks no win to me.  He wants to know what ‘he’s’ supposed to do about it?

In the years I’ve known this man, one cannot tell me he doesn’t feel these episodes coming on. Even if he hasn’t until now, the symptoms are easy enough to figure out.  I mean really. If I can pick out P.M.S. and not take it out on him, he can monitor his own moods too. I want nothing to do with it. N-o-th-i-n-g! The rest of us seem to muddle through with our own issues.

My mothering days  are over. I’m the grandma now. Spoil them rotten and send them back. My husband is going to have to grow up with his young adults. If I don’t have to remind or do these things for our kids, I’m not doing them for you.  Mean, evil and unreasonable; that’s me.

We’ve been operating under his conditions for years. This time it’s my way or the highway. I’m not going to waste my time with someone who doesn’t want a wife/partner but someone to take care of him.

Yup, I’m in a mood.

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Much of the tension between my husband and I has dissipated. Things aren’t better, just calmer. Thank the heavens!

For reasons only he knows, or the universe perhaps, things I’ve said in the last few years are filtering in to his conscience. When we talk I don’t feel his repressed defensive stance. A chip in the rock wall.

I’ve been able to catch up on things I’ve been putting off for when things ‘settle down’. How stupid is that, really? In my life experience things get different and rarely actually settle down. At any rate today I’m as relaxed as I’ve been in about a year. This window of serenity is not lost on me.

It may be the end of the storm, or simply the eye. In this moment the sun is shining. The birds are singing, and I can take a comfortable deep breath.

Life is good.

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I’m really tired of this. I liken it to being six months pregnant [seven or eight if it’s your first baby]. I was completely done with being pregnant. I knew the baby couldn’t come yet. All the same I was ready to move on. I was ready to say good-bye to swollen ankles, aching joints and heart burn.

I’m ready to say goodbye to the constant pressure on my sternum, the upset stomach and anxiousness. Could the person with all of the answers please step forward? This isn’t funny anymore, not that it ever was.

So, here I sit, waiting for the person with the well-wand to bang me over the head with it.

I could leave, but I think gainful employment would be necessary, even if he left. To that end, I’m waiting to hear if I was accepted into a training program. Then there is the small issue of counseling. I did promise to give a bash.

That’s it! What if I give my husband a bash instead? That could work, don’t you think?  If something doesn’t work don’t you give it a sound thump, kick or smack?

What’s that? Assault, you say? Well crap. And I promised to play nice?  Says who?  Okay so it is on the blog, but I could delete it and no one could prove otherwise.  Yeah that’s it, I’ll play stupid.

‘But officer, he pissed me off. A true jury of my peers will find me innocent.’ I could deliver that line with a straight face. See (blank stare) I’m good at it.

The ‘true’ jury of my peers is the trick? Yeah, that could be tough. Not that there aren’t twelve disgruntled wives, but that the prosecution would allow that many in one room at the same time.  I’d like to see that though. Crooked grin This thought cheers me.

Cheered is always a good thing.

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Way wrong move.

I was cold so I nestled into bed with my husband, who was taking a nap. Innocent enough right? How to explain?

Everything went smooth at first. The man is like his own heat source. I spooned up against his back. He started to cry. Damn. The worst part of that? I could barely muster empathy. I can’t fix this. His apologies lost weight a very long time ago. But I held him, cuz I know this is hard.

We settled into each other and my feet finally got warm. I should have left then. It’s been so long. One thing lead to another. Yeah.

I thought I was going to be sick when my brain engaged. It wasn’t anything the way it should have been. I had a sudden urge to bathe. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It wasn’t him. My reaction was the problem. There was no lingering closeness. I didn’t want to snuggle up to him. I left with as much grace as I could muster and cried.

I cried because the magic wasn’t there. I cried because I couldn’t believe how stupid I was. I cried because I never imagined I would feel that way. I cried because I’ve led him on.  I cried because I don’t want it to be like this.

I pulled myself together and we ate dinner. A dinner I could have enjoyed with anyone. This all feels so wrong.

We were best friends. It’s all so flat. We’re both trying and I hope the counselor has some ideas. This isn’t working.

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