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. 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.