Old Wounds

I didn’t end up in an apartment by myself on a wild hair. It wasn’t impulsive. I’m sorry it feels that way for him.

My husband came over this evening. He’s being clingy again. groan

Worse? He spent the better part of an hour trying to get me to ‘understand’ why he didn’t drop everything and come to me when my mother died, last May.  It’s as if he thinks if I could see things from his point of view it wouldn’t be so painful. Em, let me think; no.

I was with my mother when she died. I cannot express how grateful I am to have been able to be with her in those final days. What I couldn’t have predicted was my husband’s reaction when I called to tell him. He went on a tear about how work was crazy. He had the pager. It was a long drive and he didn’t know if he was coming. Excuse me? Are you kidding me?

His sister was called and she spoke with him. After speaking with his sister he decided he could make the trip to bring me home. Why thank you. How thoughtful. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. Our conversation this evening brought back the pain involved.

To recap; my mother dies, he doesn’t know if he can get away from work to bring me home or be with me. I’m supposed to understand how much stress he was under?

He has two brothers and a sister. When his mother died he didn’t have to worry about any of the details. They took care of it as a family. I have one brother, who cannot be depended upon. An 89 year old father to support while making all of the arrangements for not just my mother’s funeral, but my father’s as well. Why? Because dad asked me to. One does not say no to a devastated man who had just lost the love of his life. They were two days short of being married 68 years. They met when dad was 15 and mom was 12.

My cousin helped me, god bless her. Other than her, I had no support. None, nothing and my husband goes flaky on me. Really?  My brother’s daughters needed my support. Of course I was there for them. All I wanted was my husband, and I had to fight to get him to come. When he did get there he was emotionally distant and wrapped up in how it made him feel. Gee I can’t imagine why I was hurt beyond belief.

Now 10 months later he’s trying to get me to ‘understand’. Gawd this seems hopeless.

He reports in his present distress the house is a mess and I’m not to go, cuz he’s going to fix it. And I’m supposed to believe this?

A step forward and four back. I see a three month lease in my immediate future.

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Week Two~Surprises

I spent months agonizing over not wanting to be alone, about not wanting to take care of myself. I was an IDIOT!

I worried about the pets, the house and the yard. Entirely stupid.

Oddly enough I don’t miss any of it; not even my bed. The only time I feel anxious is when my husband is buzzing around or bemoaning the time spent apart.

Being alone reminds me of how competent I am and always have been. I don’t need a bunch of ‘stuff’ to be happy. (nice clothes being the exception,grin)

I don’t have a billion things pressing on me at once. It is a huge relief. One I didn’t expect.

There is a book by  Richard Bach called, ‘Illusions’. One of the premises is if you don’t like where your life is going, quit and do something else.

This tends to run contrary to how we operate. I have found it is, in this case, exactly what I needed to do. And you know what? The world didn’t fall into wreck and ruin.  So I’m not so important as I thought I was. How wonderful is that? Smile

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Assignments and Reactions

I’ve been shirking my responsibilities. I’m supposed to be charting my feelings at least four times a day. Groan. The assignment is from our counselor and is designed to help my husband monitor his feelings. I feel like being a brat. At some point, soon, I’ll get over myself and do the assignment. Until then I’ll keep doing what I do; work through the feelings.

Reactions to the separation have ranged from disbelief to down right angry. No this wasn’t from our kids. They are upset, I’d be worried if they weren’t, but not hostile. We raised good people.

The reaction of one person, in particular, threw me. I’ve thought of this person as a close friend. I’ve know her since shortly after we moved here. She was privy to more information than anyone else and yet she was angry when I left. WTF?

How could I do this to my husband?  Excuse me? My husband doesn’t need a protector, thank you very much. It feels as if I’ve been tossed into the Victorian era. Home wrecker? Me? Oh save me the drama. She tried to make herself the good mother by saying my son (who’s 21) was eating at her house. My reaction? ‘Send the boy home.’ For goodness sake he’s a grown man, he can cook for himself. I know he can, I’ve witnessed it. dang

I’ve gotten judgement from acquaintances. That’s fine. They have no idea the depth of our estrangement and I’m not about to fill them in. From a close friend? That hurts.  I’ve never asked her to side with anyone. She’s friends with my husband as well, but this I didn’t see coming. She feels protective of him?  Me thinks she should live with him for a while and then reassess her position.

Seriously she said she feels protective of him. Blank stare. Protective of the abuser, you’ve got to be kidding me. We haven’t spoken since last week and unless she calls we won’t be speaking anytime soon. There is only so far I’m willing to be pushed. To be look down at for trying to make things better isn’t a line I’m willing to cross. Apparently our friendship has reached the limits of its capacity.

I’ve been here before (not often thankfully). Someone I thought was a friend, only to discover there were underlying fractures which made the relationship impossible. It hurts like hell every time. For it to be the person I’ve trusted with my inner–most–self makes it all the harder. I simply cannot wrap my head around abandoning a friend because I disagree with them. It confounds me. Were I engaging in self-destructive behavior, I could understand. It sucks rocks to watch someone you care about beat themselves up in life when it is unnecessary.

My situation is quite the opposite, from my point of view. To say I’m confused would be an understatement. Persons who don’t know me or the situation anywhere as well as she does have given me strong support. Given she’s the odd one out, I’m forced to conclude she’s alone in her views.

I’m not overly happy with being out of the house. And yet, I can’t make myself regret my decision. If nothing else, I feel better, safer.

Life is too short to live waiting for other people to change.

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Week One Report

This has been an eye-opening week for both of us.

I’m doing much better than I thought I would. I’m having allergy problems with my pet, as we usually dwell in separate rooms. The medication seems to be helping with that. I don’t want to send her back to the house, then I’d really be alone. It sounds weird, but it’s the truth, the rat’s good company. She’s a comfort and I’d like for her to stay.

The work front is going well. I survived the shift that tried to kill me, and I’ve been hired full-time for a different shift. Fingers crossed that my body is better suited to this one. I don’t like to admit it, but I shouldn’t do the things I used to do with impunity. No, I’m not old. Middle age has cruelties of its own. Cruelties I’ll take over being twenty something again in a New York minute, thank you very much.

At any rate, I have my husband’s undivided attention at present. I don’t think he thought I’d ever walk out the door, let alone stay away. We’ve gotten along better in the last week than we have for years. Sad, I know. Tomorrow is our first counseling session with my counselor. It will be interesting to see how that goes. She knows both of us and has promised to give us exercises to do in order to rebuild the relationship.

I’m feeling more hopeful at this point. We’re getting along. He’s stopped the clingy stuff, which is very good. There’s been no begging or hollow promises, which surprises me to be frank. It’s a refreshing change.

Of course if living apart is the only way we’re going to get along, I’m happy to stay where I’m at. Getting along apart beats the $&^% out of living together the way we were.

Maybe, just maybe we still stand a chance.

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Here I am.

It’s been a long time coming, and here I am in my new place for at least thirty days. I even managed to get myself hooked up to the internet. This is generally my husband’s job, so it felt good to do it by myself.

He brought over dinner last night. We talked, cried and talked some more. I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with him on my turf. He’s been mighty clingy. I don’t do clingy any better than I do ignored.

I thought it would be a lot weirder than it is. At this point I know we aren’t going to get anywhere living together, at least I’m not. It’s so nice not to feel the pressure of being at the house. It’s just me and my pet rat, Maggie. Yes, I said rat. She’s a complete love and I adore her. The two of us make a good team. smile At present she’s checking things out, under my watchful eye.

Per status quo I forgot things at the house and had to go back. I tried to figure out a way around it, but couldn’t. The cost of the items forgotten couldn’t be justified. It was a difficult trip and very strange to be in the house. I’d only left a few hours earlier, but it still felt foreign to be there. It’s not my place anymore, and I’m okay with that.

Right now I don’t know if it will ever be ‘my place’ again. My name’s on the mortgage, yet estranged.

I have to deal with financial stuff today, and turn in my rental paperwork. I’m doing month to month. The least amount of pressure possible is what I’m going for. The sun is shining and it looks to be as if it’s going to be a beautiful day.

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Packing

I’ve been gathering up some things this morning and I was struck at how easy it’s been to pull out what’s important and abandon the rest. It goes with what I’ve said for years. Stuff is nice. I like my stuff. In the end it’s just stuff and stuff comes and goes.

There are things I’m leaving because I have no place for them. There are clothes I can’t wear this time of year. As I look around I realize how little much of it means to me. It used to, but somehow without a solid relationship it really doesn’t seem to matter.

I’ve got bills to pay and clothes to pack. The computer will be the last thing into the car, so I can find a nice secure spot for it among my meager belongings, mostly clothes and must have my pillows.

I’m oddly calm about all of this and have been since shortly after the decision was made. Facing something and actually doing it are so different. Indecision is the painful space of life. This isn’t a rash decision. Lord knows it’s over due, I just couldn’t take that step. One more chance. One more this or that. Yeah, well sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t.

At this point I’m wondering how long I’ll be gone. A month, three or more? We’ll just have to see how it goes.

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It’s Time

I was speaking with a dear friend this morning and she pointed out the reason I was having so much trouble recommitting is because my husband broke one of the deal breaker rules, I established a very long time ago.

1. Don’t hit me. It will be the last time you see me.

2. Don’t lie to me. Three strikes you’re out.

3. Don’t cheat on me. I don’t share.

He’s lied, at least three times over stupid things because he didn’t want to deal with me.

Unconventional as it was, he cheated. And that’s a rock I can’t make myself climb over.

My next day off is Tuesday. I’ve made arrangements to stay in a place close to work. It’s designed for long term stays for Executives, Doctors, Nurses, so on. No need for me to fumble around looking for or packing housewares, they’re there. All I need bring is me, my clothes, food, my precious pet, Maggie and my computer, can’t forget that.

My sternum  feels cracked in half. And I’m crying again dammit.

I know this is what needs to happen, if there’s to be any sort of a change for us, me. I need to be somewhere to heal and take care of just me. I can’t do that here. So why does it hurt so fracking bad?  How is it the right thing to do is rarely the easy thing?

Someone please take the axe out of my chest.

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The Day After – Save Me!

So it would seem my bringing up our counseling in a very noisy, busy, restaurant rattled him more than I thought. Honestly I think it’s the counselor I mentioned more than the place, but anyway. This counselor knows both of us. Gasp, someone who could call his nonsense!

We went out to dinner with friends and had a very nice time. Or so I thought. I’m bopping around doing what I do and I find him in the dining room. In the dark. Okay. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright then,” and I go on about my business. This whole drama king thing is on my last nerve.

Twenty minutes later. I’m in the kitchen. He comes in and sits on a bar stool, staring at me expectantly. Really? So I ask, “What?”

He doesn’t answer. I’m close to glaring now. “Dump it. What’s up?”

We are back to how ‘he’ feels. What ‘he’ expects. What ‘he’ heard me say. (which wasn’t even remotely close to what I meant.)

I commence to do my level best to explain my position. He doesn’t get it. I start to cry. Okay, I was sobbing. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. See this is why we need counseling, I don’t seem to speak his language.

His response? He wants to comfort me as I comfort him? huh? This is just so twisted.

I finally stopped crying and tried to escape him outside for fresh air. He follows me. Big surprise. He’s still talking. I’m sort of listening and wondering who called me while I was bawling my head off. As I head into the house I pull my cell from my pocket and connect to voice mail.

OH! He’s not done talking. le groan. He’s upset at how rude I am. Fine. I called back my friend, answered her question and then faced him. Because the world revolves around him. I explained I thought he was done and I wondered who had called. He forgave me and turned toward the sink, saying, “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

Oh really? I went upstairs. If I’d opened my mouth I’d have never gotten to bed, and I had an appointment in the morning. He’s issuing me orders now? I $#@!@*& don’t think so.  I ruminated yesterday. The answer? I need to live with myself for a while. I checked out extended stay places. No, don’t go to the hourly dives with a ‘hot tub’ in every room. Shivers. Ick. No, there are executive suites for extended stays. Mostly business trips, but it works for my purpose too.

I’ll be scoping them out after work tomorrow. Gah! I didn’t want it to come to this.

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Interesting Conversation

This week has been a bizarre mixture of sublime and eye-opening moments.

The sublime? The stars aligned and all of my daughter’s wedding party could be at the store to choose bride’s maid dresses. It only took about an hour, another fifteen minutes for them to dress the flower girl. Then I was abandon at the cash register with a very cheerful sales person, as she read our order back to me. Dazed is a good description. It was like getting sucked back in time to when they would play dress up in my living room. The chatter and squeals were delightful. Have I mention how much I love this bunch? Yeah, I do. Pat my chest, my girls are all grown up.

My husband, who hasn’t been involved in this sort of thing, oh since, em, never. (Not a single dance or prom) Now confesses to feeling left out. Huh? You really wanted to look at dresses with squealing young women and not a man item in sight? Bridal shop. Remember? Solid girl, wall to frilly wall. I said if he wanted to come for our daughter’s dress fitting he certainly could. He winged a brow at that.

The real deal? It’s killing him that I have money and he doesn’t know how much. Too bad so sad. My sanity money will stay right where it is. It was a gift from my father and has nothing to do with you.

I went to see my counselor on Friday as we spoke I kept hitting on the point that I was stuck. I have no idea how to move forward. She suggested until I felt fully heard it was unlikely that I can. Great. More waiting for him. Crap!

She suggested that we see her together. This is not someone my husband would have chosen. When I told him what she said, he went a bit unhinged. He scowled that we shouldn’t be discussing this in a restaurant.  Really? I’ll spare some of the things he’s brought up at the dinner table; at a restaurant.

Earlier in the day he apologized for not getting me flowers this week. I told him, he didn’t have to get me flowers every week. His reply? Yes I do.

Okay, so this about me is it?

We had a quiet evening after the counseling conversation. A couple of hours after we got home, he told me he needed me. Now that’s a news flash. I answered, I know.

No, he says, I need your support.

Say what?  I draw my knees to my chest in the chair I was sitting on.- I’m not going to comfort you while you cry about how you’ve treated me.

He claimed that wasn’t it. We are not convinced in the slightest way possible.

He’s scared. I get that, so am I. To look for me to support him in that is ridiculous. It’s like tearing down the shop and expecting me to help him rebuild it.  I didn’t tear the damned thing down. Deal with it.

I was an accomplice to how long this situation was allowed to carry on. He’s the one who is solely responsible for the state of his life. I won’t, can’t help fix that. It’s not possible. If it could have been done, it would have been down a thousand times over with results.

And so here I stand wondering, again, what the hell I think I’m doing?

Plan A is solidifying whether either of us like it or not. I don’t feel married. I’d rather be alone most of the time. Plan B, is looking less likely with each passing day. le sigh.

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