I don’t know why it’s important, the whats, whys and wheretos. The thoughts plague me so it would seem somewhere there is a need to figure it out. Pinpoint the moment in time when things went horribly wrong.
My mind endlessly sorts through the years and moments in time, when perhaps I should have known things weren’t right. When counseling should have been started. But at the time they were filed under, ‘We survived this round.’
All marriages have ups and downs. Two people can’t share a life and never disagree or perhaps be unkind to one another. Where’s the line when it goes from normal to broken? Damned if I know. All I have is this file of occurrences which have compounded over the years into this heavy folder of perceived and real offenses.
The single thread which runs through them all is an absence of base respect. Little things I asked which were blatantly ignored. In retrospect the lack of respect in the small things is bigger than anything else. The marriage became sick when one of us felt ignored, unheard, dismissed. Never under-estimate the hurtful power of rolled eyes. Sadly, I’m at fault here too. Contempt is a subtle, lethal poison, driving a wedge into the strongest relationships.
Our marriage was good. At one point it was the world to both of us, and then…..
Was I deluding myself? Was it really, ever good? Did I live in this happy place of pretending? Heaven knows I’ve spent years acting as if everything was fine, when it wasn’t.
Denial runs deep. For all my mental gymnastics over this I can’t say I’d have married someone else. My heart remembers when it was good. I think it’s what I’ve been holding onto so stubbornly for far too long. It WAS good and it can be again. Only, now I’m not sure it can.
The last ten years have been round after round of ‘It’s better, he’s forgiven’ to ‘Wait it out.’ to ‘How many times are we going to do this?’ to finally, ‘It’s got to change.’
It is said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
The insane train picked me up some time ago. Now I’m standing on a platform by myself wondering if my spouse will notice he’s riding alone. It’s a painful place to live.
My fears? He won’t notice. He’ll never come around. I’ll have to leave and face life alone.
Can I support myself? The short answer is yes. The long one, to be brief is, not the way he can. I’m afraid of living on a shoe string. I can do it, have done it. I don’t want to though, not if there’s an option.
If I leave, who will take care of the house, pets, bills, etc that we share? History shows he can’t be trusted with these things, so where does that leave me? Hostage to pets and stuff?
If I leave, will I ever find someone else? Would he? There’s a sore point. I’ve been emotionally abandon and it kills me to think someone else would be worthy of his attentions. I need to come to grips with this. See, love isn’t the problem. Never has been. It would be nice if I could leave and say, “I don’t care anymore.”
I do and, I suspect at some level, I always will. We’ve been married twenty-seven years, and have known each other thirty years. Our lives are so intertwined, tangled, meshed and woven together it boggles the mind on how to separate them. How do you do that? Can it be done?
Hell, I don’t know. That’s what the blog is for I suppose. I’m sitting at the center of a mass of tangled thread, hopefully I’ll be able to pull one strand at a time, wind it up and tuck it away until there is an answer. We can hope.