The disparity within my marriage escaped my notice for years. It was as if I was immune to seeing what was happening and how my husband blamed me for things. How he held things over my head that were ok for him to do. And, as that happened, despair seeped in. It curled up around my soul like a cat around a newborn.....cuddly, but threatening to suffocate as well. Comfortable in it's own way. Familiar, but dangerous. Self doubt. Blame. Pain. And I have blamed myself. For years. And, in my heart, I still do. That I am not enough. That I have gotten to the breaking point.
But, today, when I paid a bill, again, that he "forgot" to pay....I realized that when that happened to me a very long time ago, he never forgot AND he has never forgotten. He believes in some way that he is totally responsible and that I am the antithesis of that. But I am not. And I have never threatened him or been angry with him for forgetting or struggling to get it done. But, he took over the finances years ago and has held the purse strings. He has threatened me a few times about cutting me off from the bank account and most definitely the credit card. Seeing it now, I realize that if I had signed the house over to joint ownership, I would be in a world of hurt. I don't really know why I didn't ever do it. Maybe because my beloved grandpa set it up that it should come to me alone. Not to both of us. That my inheritance was mine. There are times when I wonder what he saw or knew.
One time when I left where we lived at the time and came to visit friends with the kids for three weeks, my grandpa apparently called my husband and demanded what was going on. This is according to my husband. I have never had my grandpa demand anything, but maybe he did. My husband tells the story that my grandpa wondered what was wrong with me. Now I wonder.......maybe he was actually wondering about my husband. He never spoke to me of it. If it were about me, he would have. He never held back when things were about me. Ever. Hard. Good. Bad. That's why I trusted him. And in this clarity, I realize that he thought something had happened that I had a reason to leave. But, really, I was just visiting. And trying to overcome the great and overwhelming despair that was engulfing my life that I blamed on myself. Go figure.
For all of our marriage, he has been allowed the freedom to do as many things as he wants. To work the hours he wants. To be free. To help as much or as little as he wants. I, however, am monitored. Ok, I was. Now, I do what I want and he sulks. If he is not invited, he gets testy. When he is, I feel ill.
Last night I was over downloading pics of my sons graduation and our vacation on my laptop at a friend's house. The camera was hers. So, I was busily doing the work and enjoying the nearly 1000 photos. When I got home at around 10, you would have thought that I had wounded him. He barely spoke to me. I just went ahead with the things I had to do and getting ready for bed. I heard myself offering explanations. Trying to explain that it took longer than I expected. Not wanting to say that being away is such a relief. I do want to be kind. But, I don't guess it really matters.
I dreamt that I was on my cherished and much dreamed about trip to Europe. My daughter had come to join me for a week or so. My husband showed up uninvited and unexpectedly. I got him a different room. The next day as we walked the streets he said to me, you're right, I don't love you. And I said, I know, so can't we just try to get along as well as we can so that things can be peaceful? I woke up. Dang. Wish I knew the answer.
He loves him.
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