Seven days since my husband has been here. More of his petty need for control.
When last I saw him, I was crying and throwing a fit. Well, no small wonder you might say or think. We would leave as well. But, consider this...
My husband and I have been together a long time. We have gone to counseling a few dozen times and, supposedly, know our issues. As adult children of alcoholics, we share some of the same dysfunction. Occasionally, we get mired in poor communication conundrums. Both sitting on hurt feelings, thinking nobody understands. He retreats into slothful behaviors. Sitting and reading, sitting and watching television, lying on the floor sleeping, and, generally, ducking all Responsibility.
Most times, I'm the one to get us back on track. I've been the one to offer the olive branch. I've had to drive out to Packwood from Maple Valley, and, physically, pull him out of his funk. Suggest solutions and coddle his hurt feelings for the sake of our marriage. But, I cannot do that anymore.
I am, physically, unable to run after him. I cannot call him on the phone and reassure him that I love him or, calmly, explain my viewpoint and offer common ground. I can only sit with my own hurt feelings and hope he comes back around.
Or, should I even want him? He's been my primary source of stress since I've been saddled with this diagnosis. He has been, alternately, sullen and sweet. Confusing me at every turn. Taking charge of my care in the early days. Painstakingly, sorting my supplements and medications, then raging at me for setting my iPad timer so I would not forget a dosage. When I'd awaken early and go through the struggle into my swimsuit to be ready to be picked up for water aerobics and my ride wouldn't show, He'd come to my rescue and drive me to the pool. I'd be so grateful for his generosity, then he'd complain throughout the trip.
When last I saw him, I was crying and throwing a fit. Well, no small wonder you might say or think. We would leave as well. But, consider this...
My husband and I have been together a long time. We have gone to counseling a few dozen times and, supposedly, know our issues. As adult children of alcoholics, we share some of the same dysfunction. Occasionally, we get mired in poor communication conundrums. Both sitting on hurt feelings, thinking nobody understands. He retreats into slothful behaviors. Sitting and reading, sitting and watching television, lying on the floor sleeping, and, generally, ducking all Responsibility.
Most times, I'm the one to get us back on track. I've been the one to offer the olive branch. I've had to drive out to Packwood from Maple Valley, and, physically, pull him out of his funk. Suggest solutions and coddle his hurt feelings for the sake of our marriage. But, I cannot do that anymore.
I am, physically, unable to run after him. I cannot call him on the phone and reassure him that I love him or, calmly, explain my viewpoint and offer common ground. I can only sit with my own hurt feelings and hope he comes back around.
Or, should I even want him? He's been my primary source of stress since I've been saddled with this diagnosis. He has been, alternately, sullen and sweet. Confusing me at every turn. Taking charge of my care in the early days. Painstakingly, sorting my supplements and medications, then raging at me for setting my iPad timer so I would not forget a dosage. When I'd awaken early and go through the struggle into my swimsuit to be ready to be picked up for water aerobics and my ride wouldn't show, He'd come to my rescue and drive me to the pool. I'd be so grateful for his generosity, then he'd complain throughout the trip.
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