| Am I crazy? My husband has grand visions but does very little, if any, of the work toward fulfilling things. The hard work gets transferred to my ledger. He's big on promises, but has no intentions of fulfilling them. When I look back over his list of ambitions, what he's wanted to be in his life, photographer, traveler, sailor, scuba diver, writer, gunslinger, rancher, mountain man, and a someday dad, I'm overwhelmed just thinking of it. When we started out, he was almost done with college, and I was entering. He was headed on a journalism path. He ended up nesting in a copyediting and fact checking job. By the time I was out of school, I started taking editorial jobs. It took 5 years of dating for him to officially propose. I never nagged, but I started to feel a little strung along. The it took a year to get married. He and his mother planned it all. I'm not a picky person, and he is very picky and insistent, so I roll over -- a lot. I started reading up on kids, having kids, educating kids, the moment we got married. But 4 years into our marriage, he wanted to travel. So we did, for some months, then landed work. We city-hopped for another 7 years. I knew we need to settle down soon and start a family, but he was very worried about financial security, and yet by moving and moving, we're not creating financial security. I learned this early in our marriage. He'd use a credit card for a normal purchase -- but even normal purchases add up -- and when we'd get the bill, he'd hit the roof. He just doesn't like cutting checks to anyone. He's proud of cultivating that hostility. I said, we charged it, we have to pay for it. Ultimately, I started pay all the bills as he would get stressed and blow up (adult temper tantrum) over any bill -- electric, phone, anything. We never did extras like cable or took out loans. So 7 years in, he gets laid off (his boss stepped down so he could stay on for just one more year, how nice is that!). But he thought the job would go on forever and didn't prepare. We had conversations about what to do the entire year -- I like to plan, he's not so much that way. Then when he got laid off he went into a downspiral, a depression. He started to have panic attacks and rages, and I was doing some serious overtime and he was just raging at me at night. I would cry on the way home every day, knowing what was in store. About year of that and then he ramps up the panic, that we have to move back east now noW NOW! And I try to reason with him, as I didn't want to move, or at least under duress. I wanted to map it all out, think it through. But there was no reasoning with him once he's in that state of mind -- the wild-eyed crazy look. I have no time to prepare for the move, barely get resumes out. He insisted that we live with his parents. And that just kills me, bec ause we're too old for that, and we are very healthy financially (no debt, investments, and a year's worth of emergency funds), and there's no need for it either. But we move. It doesn't matter what I think, what I believe, what I advise. It just doesn't rate. He has his parents thinking that we're broke, and I tell him I'm working, I pull in great money. But it doesn't rate, what I do doesn't count. I just shut my mouth and deal. I pack, I plan, I deal. I even did most of the driving cross-country so that I could have my mind on something other than feeling like a marginalized kid who has no vote in the matter. I'm a Plan B, Plan C, Plan D person. I figure you can push back at life, and you might get some people to see a rational viewpoint, but at a certain point, you have to accept what's likely to happen, then make a plan to survive or better yet a twist on the bad situation to make it better than you could ever imagine (I like to find the silver lining if at all possible ). So we get back to his parents and I'm researching jobs each and every day. It had my mother in law irritated because I think she wanted me to stick around and for her to be a mom again, but we're in our 30s and we needed jobs asap. My husband was, I was shocked to discover, very slack about looking for work. He cherrypicks, then he complains when nothing comes through. I'm a straight-shooter and tell him if you want a job, you have to cast a wider net, and then I shared my approach with him, but you might not get the perfect job description or the perfect pay or the perfect company with name cache, but you'll be employed and using your skills. He'd complain about that. Then I'd say, you're more selective, you cherrypick, so accept that you'll get fewer leads and fewer replies as more people will apply for a smaller number of openings. I cast a wide net and got several callbacks. Two of which he joined me on the drive (one in the same state, another in another state). And in both cases, he ripped into me right before the interview with insults and baiting. (Back in 1998, when I had an interview and job offer I truly wanted -- he really ripped into me and I had to turn it down. I told him I was confused -- he actually put me in contact with the owner -- and that I was sad about turning it down. He was apologetic then. I should have seen that event as a sign.) So here it was happening again. The first job he joined me on the drive and he started in. I was stunned, just saying over and over we can talk about this later, I have to be in the right frame of mind for an interview. Ultimately, I burst into tears and I guess he had what he wanted. I couldn't stop crying. I got it under control by finding a cafe bathroom and straightening myself up a bit. He was sorry, I guess, and seemed apologetic. I knew we had to hang out in that cafe right up until the interview because he couldn't start an argument publicly. I did the interview, and I was so heartbroken by then, I know it wasn't a good one at all. In truth, I wasn't the best fit for that group anyway, so they made the right choice not to hire me. I understood all that. I didn't blame my husband. But I do feel like he was trying to sabotage me. For the next interview, I had to drive several states away, so we turned it into a little getaway and a chance to consider where we might live if I got an offer. He was really moody and grumpy. I have mapped out a possible place we might could live that was lovely and peaceful and a place where he could restore himself and work freelance. It was idyllic, if he wanted to heal emotionally, and I was looking forward to showing it to him, the town that is. (This was the same town that 10 years prior he had seen in photographs and he said he would like to check it out and possibly live there.) But he was so moody and complaining and I just will never understand. He had been argumentative and was trying to bait me again, and I just answered robotically and kept my mind on my task. I did the tests, the interview, loved the people, and went back home. Then another opening came up in another state and I went for an interview. I did well on the test and in the interview. When I went ba ck home, I had offers from both companies. He wanted to argue again, not weigh options. So I took him to the public library (can't argue in a library, right?) and outlined how we were to each weigh the options -- really, where we wanted to live -- and rationally make a choice. We each wrote down the categories that matter most to each of us -- two lists (outdoor activities v arts/entertainment, crime, cost of living, etc.). Then, considering each city, each of us assigned a point value for each one. Ultimately, we each had a total point value for each city. In the gray areas, I rolled over, as I we'd never come so close to having a rational decision before. I was determined that it would be nothing like that last move. We moved. I worked, long hours. I knew my husband still wasn't healed. He was still angry and raging and having panic attacks. So my strategy, one we discussed, was to get into a church (every place we lived, I'd get us into a church, and my husband was lukewarm about it, but it was my fault for not regularly feeding on scripture, so that's why it failed). So we find a church. The second part of the strategy was to find a Christian cognitive behavioral therapist who could challenge irrational ideas. My husband went a few times, but he says that therapists are crazy (I don't agree), he took prescribed medication for a while, then stopped. And the third part of the strategy was volunteerism, as there's no better way to stop obsessing about your own problems than to be in service to others. I'd always volunteer as a way to keep myself emotionally healthy, and I'm just a better me when I serve. So we did ESL. He was great "on the stage." I was disappointed that he didn't want to do the behind-the-scenes lesson building or planning, so I just did that (mainly because I love that part) and he delivered the lessons. Overall, that helped. So that was in 2005, and he wasn't better -- still raging, still having panic attacks (I wrote a lot about that on this forum under another name). The hardest part about everything was that I wasn't talking to anyone I knew about it -- this forum was all I had. If was afraid that if I told people the way he was (and there are a lot of details) that when he got better, they'd only see that side of my husband and there would forever be this distance between family and him. I just sucked it up. Meanwhile, he's talking to everyone, telling him we're a sinking ship, or something. He'd call me repeatedly at work, panicked. He called the pastor, panicked. He called his parents and friends and brother, panicked. And I could tell they were all getting tired of it. But he wouldn't go to a therapist or take medicine. And I guess it's my fault because I didn't push him. He was the most irrational person I had ever been around, and he was in the driver's seat. And I went through a bad, bad time with dark thoughts of my own. When you can't make your mate happy, no matter what you try to do (I'd do outings and even a "fun marriage seminar," which he ridiculed, then demanded money back right then and there), when you can't make your mate happy, what's the point of it all? I walked to work near a train station. And some days I'd think about hopping on that train to some other state and just sitting in another state's train station, just sitting, then maybe coming back. But often I'd think about just laying my head on the tracks. It was a really hard time. Stormie Omartien's books helped a lot. At some point, my husband became a Christian, to the ridicule of his family. We got baptized, and I went back to work. He was essentially unchanged. He'd rage and a couple of times he sat on me -- I was frustrated and yelling -- and he sat on me to "pray the devil" out of me. Whoa boy. Not a good direction. A lot of bad fights. A lot of me wishing I'd just die. And my thoughts of having kids? It was clear this was not the time to bring a kid into the world. And we were not the couple, that is if we stayed where we were spiritually. So I had my cry and accepted that I might not have kids or get to be a mom. All through the years, I'd had this plan on the side, waiting for the right moment, when we settled, and now my husband has completely unwound. But that's life, and a person can make a positive impact on a kids' life without being a parent -- there's teaching and sponsoring and tutoring and mentoring. And it was hard, but I accepted my Plan B. I should add, before we reloca ted for my job, my husband was complaining that we didn't have a house or any kids. And I just said, okay, so now it's on your radar, and we'll make it happen. And at the time I thought us being settled, out of his parents' house, was going to make it better, but it was worse. And then I just had to get real with myself, my age, our immaturity as a couple, and just say it wasn't likely to happen. I wrote on this forum about that, too, and the community agreed that it wasn't a good time to have kids. I so need a sanity check. I have no one to talk to. I did talk to my husband about kids, all along. This was no secret. He loves to discuss in the abstract, and when I tell him the hard cold truth about biology, he says I have too little faith, and that I'm being negative, and then he cites outlier cases where women have children very very late in life. Again, my opinion doesn't rate. Fast-forward to 2007, he finally lands a job in a town an hour away, one he wasn't sure he even wanted, which meant another move. But I'm just happy to see him full-time employed after many years. So we move. He's in the job, and the panic attacks are diminished, but they still happen from time to time, but nothing like before. Things are stable. Right over the border, next state, is a cheaper place to live. So we start thinking of houses (I'd suggested in 2005, after reading an article, that we check out this place, so it's been in the back of my mind for a few years). He'd open to it now. We look and I print out options. He doesn't like my options, so he prints out options, and I see that the house he prints out I was staying away from -- it was not appealing to me at all. He insists. I say, you'll see what I'm talking about for yourself. So I go (roll over). And he gets out of the car and says, I can live here for the rest of my life. I'm thinking two things: This house is as bad as I thought. But he loves it. And I can see the smile on his face, and maybe I should just trust and see it through his eyes. So, we end up getting the house. It was a lot more problems than what the inspector noticed. We sunk $25K the first year into repairs, and each year it's been around $10K (for the last 5 years!). And my husband is always complaining that we don't have much money in the bank. We've not taken out any loans on this, we're just bleeding money (cracks formed in the foundation, ripped out carpet that prior owners' dog urinated on, replaced all the smelly air ducts, all the appliances, regraded rutted driveway, replaced a roof that looked good on the outside, but was leaking underneath, etc.). And this doesn't even touch the cosmetic repairs. So I do all the house maintenance (in addition to the car maintenance), all the cosmetic repairs, have an incredible to-do list of things I need to build (shelves, we're still living out of boxes), and I've bee n working, too, until recently. In these times when I have time, I try to plow through the work. I'm just exhausted. Now my husband has been nagging me about having kids. We've not been able to conceive for 5 years now (no surprise to me). But I went through the motions to have myself thoroughly checked out and my doctors say that though I'm old that I have enough "reserves" and my tubes are clear, etc. That I should be able to conceive. So my husband takes 6 months to get his tests, and he discovers he can't have kids. And that's okay, I tell him, we can adopt. If we're ready, but you can't take forever, there are cutoff dates (usually) for adopting babies (age 50, I'm told). This just triggers more fights because he can't have things the way he wants when he wants them. And it's my fault, again, because I'm being negative and it's my lack of faith that's causing all the problems. So he tells me the other day that we should just adopt (he waffles a lot) and I guess that means we have the green flag. So I ask him a few questions - baby? older than 5? siblings? special needs? I don't overdo it. I'm just getting the wheels turning. And little bit by little bit he's considering options. He tells me the other day that he's leaving it all to me, all the research, everything. Sigh. So I have this house, all the bills, the car, my career (because adoption doesn't come cheap) and now the adoption. He often tells me he wants to be a better husband to me. He told me the other day that he should have listened to me more often. I don't even know what those two things mean. And deep down, I don't believe him. Like when he apologized for sabotaging me before on interview (or at least trying), then doing it again. I see patterns and I don't know when to believe he wants to do things differently. Each time, in the past, when I've believed him, I've held off on progress, move myself to a holding pattern, because he seems to want to be adult-like a discuss things. But each time, in the end, he's the same, and I've lost precious time. From what color paint do you want the bedroom in? I'll paint it whatever you like, dear? [After several years, I think he's decided.] To children or career moves. To get it done, I have to do it. And when I do it, he sees that job I did and nitpicks about why it doesn't look right. I can look at a project I finished and see the flaws and think about how I can perfect it, but mostly I'm thrilled to have most of it done. I can take pleasure in that. And he just sucks all the pleasure out. Like when he came home and saw something a contractor did -- that looked fine in my opinion -- and I get yelled out for not agreeing and for not "supervising" it correctly. In the end, nothing changed, he just blew it out his system and got over it, I guess. I know I've made many many missteps. I feel like if I had just gotten really *****y and bossy at the beginning and ruled the roost and the rooster that things would have gotten done - tamed and trained my man. A growing relationship with God, reasonable financial security, a home that is humming along for the most part -- the most important, kids. But I'm not a whip-cracker. I don't want to boss my husband. And when I have exerted that pressure (boldly said No), it never, never works. When I say, I need you to do this in the yard -- he complains and curses outside for an hour before he gets under way. Every small frustration sets him off. I have to turn up the radio while I'm working because his mood colors my mood, and I'm happy to be doing something. And just now on the phone he said that I'm overwhelmed because I don't delegate. Get this ... I have a kanban board on the side of our fridge as my latest effort to kindly allocate tasks. We each are supposed to come up with a backlog and put it through the kanban board so we know where we are in the project. We assign ourselves. He came up with tasks which sit on the board, and mine are done and I'm adding new ones. I won't criticize him on this. The board is the truth teller. A new approach that I hope will work. Anyway, so it's my fault I'm not delegating. I'm so exasperated. I have dreams of my own, things I'd like to do, things that if I can sound conceited would be brilliant and fun. I know that sounds conceited, but I have this vision for certain career projects that I'm just itching to try, I just know they will work. And all these ideas sit parked in my mind, and I toy with them, and it's like I have a richer fantasy life -- I life on hold -- than my real life, that seems to be full of bogus drama. It seems at every turn, my high-maintenance husband throws a challenge up in my face and I can never finish one challenge before another one's in front of me. He can never be happy. I'm trapped in this house and in this life and crushed under the weight of his to-do list. He creates the vision and I'm supposed to take care of the details. I have vision too. But then I challenge myself, and I say, what if God wanted me to fix this house I really don't like, to love this house, and to find gratitude in this house. Fix the house, fix myself. I believe that's the answer. I just feel so alone in the process. There's so much more to my story. A lot of hurt. A lot of nasty family members who treated me like trash because I don't come from the "right side of the tracks." And I've absorbed it and lived under their scrutiny until recently when I brought it up -- and they confirmed that's how they felt. I'd rather know the truth, even if it hurts. But in the end, I still feel alone. And saddled with too much work. And like an empty shell. No kids. What am I here for anyway? What's the point of my life? | |||
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