Change

My husband has just discovered he has a case of workaholism.  Like many other addictions, this one consumes all of his waking thoughts and attention.  He would check his email before he made his coffee in the morning.  He would sit in out office behind the kitchen while I made breakfast and lunch  for the kids.  I would feel like I was imposing to ask him to wake the boy while I was getting muffins or scones out of the oven.

As far as workaholics go, Jack is a successful one.  Bryan Robinson in his book Chained to the Desk describes the typology of workaholics.  There are levels of work initiation and work completion.  John scores high both, placing him in the "Relentless Workaholic" category.  These are the high performers who get shit done.  Family gets the little that is leftover.

As Jack dove himself deeper and deeper into work, he pushed me further and further away.  I would try to reach out and connect, and he would step away, thereby exacerbating my loneliness.  When I told him I was lonely, he would further retreat.

My life began to revolve around his work schedule.  I accommodated him with little show of appreciation or support form him.

But then it wasn't all that bad.  At times, we had fun.  What I didn't know was that he was always thinking about his job.

Jack and I each called a friend of ours -- a friend of Jack's from college.  This friend has since been divorced.  I asked him how he knew when it was time to give up:

"When I knew she wasn't going to change."

He bailed when he knew she wasn't going to change.  That the status quo would remain forever.  That she wouldn't or couldn't fix her problems.