Tuesday, 3 March 2009

So where do we go from here??

I have discovered it is possible to feel lonely within a house even when your spouse and child are home. I have been living on a dusty shelf since I returned on Sunday from the safe haven of Ireland. My stay there was therapeutic on many levels: I felt loved and supported everywhere I turned and I didn't have to face daily rejection and the big cold shoulder. I knew that the peace would never last.

I got back to a reasonably chipper Husband. We ate family lunch together and he talked at length about his plans to get back to the gym. He used to be a gym bunny when he was back in Oz - lean, cut and snake hipped. His nights of working in bars have taken their toll - physically and mentally - and he wants to reshape himself. I applaud this - but Husband is an all or nothing person - so he now weighs all food, has hit the gym with brute force and has a meal plan more regimented than an Olympic athlete! I understand that this is good for him - will give him a clear head and help him feel better as a person - I just wonder where he will fit it all in, with his hectic work schedule - and what time will be left for me...

We bathed Sproglet, I unpacked, we read papers. An unremarkable Sunday. No kisses or affection - any attempts by me were rebuffed. I am still on a warning apparently - he wants to see that I have changed before the warm gates will open. My temper needs to be restrained, I need to address my anger issues and become 'a normal person' before we are back on an even keel. I get this - I really do. I have been a vicious venom-spitting monster of late - my stress oozing out of every pore and making me combust on a regular basis. To be fair to Husband he has borne the brunt of this for many a year. He has reached the end of his ability to accept this behaviour - he explained at last nights cosy Relate session with the ever patient Wendy - that I need to 'get help' or he will leave me.

Wendy bless her, gave me time to talk too. I whispered the sad tale of the last few weeks - revealing to her (and Husband) how my grand plans had somehow backfired and I ended up driving Husband completely away. I wept as I told of my confrontation call with my Mother prior to my trip home - how I finally admitted to her that I hated this new post-alcoholic woman - how then this hate segues into guilt for being so cruel to my own Mother; that I struggle with her Mothering experience now that I have my own to give. Having Sproglet has thrown my past squarely at my feet again - a mushy convoluted mess that I have to somehow sweep up and put back into boxes and make sense of. No mean feat.

Oh those good old demons of yesteryear kept rising up - the pathetic cliched soap opera style ones - you know, like I test and test until I drive the person away because I don't believe I am worth loving. All that hokey pseudo-psychologist stuff that makes me feel somehow even more pathetic. It is so galling to sit there and realise you are a complete fuck up - destined to ruin your marriage - with some sick prophesy you almost want to come right -see, I knew it wouldn't work!

It was one of those snotty wet tissued weepy outpouring evenings - Husband simmered coldly (yes it is possible to do both) next to me, immune to my wateriness. We left and struggled through a mundane Sainsburies shop. Usually post Relate, we make up in the cheese aisle, but tonight there was no laughter. We ambled through - both wounded - me, too terrified to speak for fear of setting a chain in motion that would propel him to leave me quicker. Him - struggling to maintain his distance.

We came home and drank wine. We even laughed as I watched the Oscars (I know, it was like ten years ago now - but just how toe curling was that 5 presenters giving the acting awards love in? How nervous did Jen look? How unfair is it that Sean Penn gets better looking every year and how much do I want Danny Boyle to be my new friend?) and I went to my lonely bed. No shared room until my big change!!

Sometimes when I make a joke or launch at him to steal affection in any small measure - he turns his head and I can see his grin as he tries to hide his love for me. I know it is there - lucking just underneath the surface - often almost spilling over in gestures or odd comments. Today as we bathed Sproglet (Husband is off work for 2 more days) I suddenly asked him to hug me. I felt tears threaten to fall and he saw my lip wobble. He hugged me and called me the name he uses for me in endearment. I felt momentarily exonerated. But I have to work harder to get there. I'm scared something in him has permanently broken. I'm scared I won't be the 'new me' and that a crack has started that cannot heal in our marriage. I take his curtailed behaviour on the chin - I know I deserve it - but I make sure I am no walkover - I challenge things I disagree with and make demands of him around the house with chores and Sproglet help. I'll work on me - but he has to work on his help in the home - because it was the stress of everything getting on top of me - that caused to me to lose the plot in the first place.

So next stop - therapy. Hell, an hour talking about ME ME ME a week - what's not to like?

No comments: