Yesterday, Jack and I had a difficult conversation. It wasn't capitally difficult, like the ones few weeks ago where I was calling him a fucking asshole every three sentences, screaming at the top of my lungs. Instead, I informed him that I am still keeping the "nuclear option" on the table, meaning I am reserving the right to call the end to this marriage should I need feel sufficient changes are not made. I was also questioning what I am getting out of the marriage. How does this relationship benefit me? I know it benefits him and the kids, as I take care of so much. But how I am supported? How does he show care and concern for my well-being? For the past several days, I had been asking him to write a list of ten nice things he did for me in the past year. I gave him days to think about it, and each time I asked him he acted like I was asking him a trick question, or asking him about something that had not yet been covered in class. All I was asking him to do was name ten nice things he had done for me in the past year. That's less than one thing a month. To my annoyance, he struggled.
He is not happy with me keeping the nuclear option on the table. "If you want to call it quits, let me know," he said, rather stressed. "I will leave if you want me to." He was moderately defensive when he said versus being in a zen state of "If you love someone, set them free" mode.
"I need some faith that we have a chance," he said. "If I don't have faith that this will get better, I am not sure I can stay."
Right.
Um, I was the one who was lied to and neglected. I was the one who was trying and met up against the defensiveness of someone with addiction. Someone who was in over his head and was suppressing those feelings at my expense and his.
"I have been the one who has been going on faith," I said. "I am the one waiting to see if things get better."
"Oh," he said. "Yes." And he switched directions instantly.
Yes, I want to let him know he has a chance. I still enjoy his company, which makes this whole situation all the more infuriating.
Earlier yesterday morning, he rattled off about four very nice reasons why he liked me.
"You are the most intelligent, thoughtful, introspective person I know. You are so in touch with your emotions. You are empathetic and sympathetic," he said as we were standing outside of our marriage therapist's office. "I need you."
"All of those reasons why you love me are exactly why all of this is so painful. If I were less intelligent, less caring, less thoughtful, perhaps I could handle this better," I said. "But I am not. I am all of those things."
He paused, and I left. I went to a nearby shop for a picture frame. The Big E painted a picture of the Boy, which I love. Aside from the nostrils, it looks just like him. My friend Abbie said it was good that I was taking care of things like painting the bathroom and dining room and other things that would make me happy. I was putting what I wanted to take care of on the agenda, not just those that belonged to my family.
Later that night, the Boy had a band concert. We continued our rather stressful conversation before the show began, ratting off and rehashing our therapy session from earlier that day.
"Why do you want to be here?" I asked him for the thirteenth thousandth time in the prior six weeks. "Why are you back?"
"I wasn't happy then," he said. "I was miserable. I know I hurt you, but living that life was not making me happy." Okay, fine I can buy that. He continued.
"I really enjoy our conversations," he said. "I've actually been happy these past few weeks now that we are talking again. I feel relieved that things are out in the open and I am getting help."
Well, that's is nice. Really. Excuse me while I vomit.
Okay, I am back. Sorry for the awful sarcasm. I apologize. That is not a reasonable way to solve problems. Jack has a point, but this point was so sharp that it burst the tender membrane that was my heart. Seriously, I could have skipped the year of lies and the previous three years of increasing neglect. Couldn't you have just talked to me before all of this shit happened? Where were you then?
+++++
So back to the title of this essay: Maui versus New Zealand. I've wandered far afield. (Okay, I think I've already told this story on my blog, but eh. Here it is again.) A few years ago (I think it was when the Boy was in second grade), that Jack and the kids got me a $20 iTunes gift card for Christmas. Now I love iTunes. I download music all of the time. It was the kids idea to get me a gift card, which was sweet. What was not sweet was that this was a shared gift between Jack and the kids for me. The only gift the three of them got me was something that was purchased two days before Christmas in the checkout line at the grocery store. I cried for two days at that lack of thought they put into getting something for me. Me, the person who made Christmas in our household. If that Christmas were a sports event, there would be a little tag at the end that said, "Brought to you by Mom! Thank her for making this holiday AWESOME!" I was pissed.
So, the following year we went to Maui. "Now no one can be upset this Christmas because we are in Maui," Jack said. And it was a great trip.
In the grand scheme of things, getting a $20 iTunes card for Christmas is not cool, but nor was it a felony. It was one of the many small cases of neglect, and the trip to Maui was restitution.
Fast forward to May, June and July of 2014. I was talking to my friend Jane the other day and she said there are two types of problems: those that money can fix and those that money can't. A trip to New Zealand and long-overdue upgrades to the house are now on the schedule. The Boy, Jack and I went to lunch today near Jack's office downtown, and walked past a Tesla dealer. "A new Tesla would really accelerate the forgiveness process," I told him and laughed. He laughed, too.
The trip will be nice, no doubt. It will be time spent away from work and the hubbub of life in Seattle. Both kids will be transitioning to new schools, the Big E to high school and the Boy to middle. Everyone will need a break. Changes to the home will be nice, too, as we will be fixing up our nest together. (Or if the nuclear option comes to pass, I will have a nice house to sell or keep in case I need to push the launch button.)
But I don't need a new car. I am just hoping for a new and improved husband. And that's a problem money can't fix. And no matter how I try, I can't fix him either. He has to change himself.
No comments:
Post a Comment