Hey Stranger!

Carrying The Weight

I have always been aware at what a relationship becomes when only one person puts forth any real effort to make it work.  The majority of our marriage has been just that ... me putting forth most of the effort, and him usually just getting by.  Whenever a problem arose, I made the effort to fix it.  I am The Fixer.  The Mender.  The Smoother-Over.  I stepped up and fixed it and we moved on.  I realize now how stupid that was.  (Lately, I seem to be realizing how stupid a lot of things were ... see Hindsight is 20/20 post.)   Maybe I was always "the fixer" because I was afraid he wouldn't do it.  In that case, I should have pulled my head out of the sand (or pulled it out of wherever it was at the time) and let that be a huge clue.  Maybe I was the fixer because I was aware of how completely emotionally inept he is and felt that he couldn't do it.  I think both points have been proven true over the past several months.

Opening My Eyes

What surprises me, though, is how quickly the relationship deteriorates when nobody makes an effort.  You so often hear couples say how they were just getting by, going through the daily routine but not really making an effort, for great lengths of time before they got a divorce.  That hasn't proven true in my case.  As I said, when this came to light, I was willing to forgive his affair, giving that he no longer saw her or communicated with her in any way and that he made an effort to repair the damage.  In June, I proved that I was willing to put it all behind us by putting forth effort to smooth things over, doing little things daily to hold out an olive branch.  I waited. And waited. "He may need more time to get over it, " a relative told me.  "Just give him time."  So I gave him time.  I waited some more.  All summer long, I waited for him to make some sort of effort.  Any sort of ass-kissing gesture would have been nice.  But nothing.  I got nothing.  Not a serious conversation about why he did it, 'fessing up to all the lies, saying how sorry he was.  No effort to get closer, spend more time together, repair and renew the relationship he damaged.  Not even a cheap piece of jewelry.  After June and then half of July came and went, I began to grow weary of making even a minimal effort to fix what he had broken.  You would think that he would have noticed the fact that I wasn't doing as much "damage control" and would have gotten a clue.  Nope.  In late July, we went for a little vacation ... our daughter's first vacation ever ... our first as a couple.  Yes, in nearly 21 years together he never took me on vacation!  (Unless you count a trip to Ohio for my dad's family reunion back in the early 90's.  In that case, I guess we have been on one.)  Megan was so excited.  She had heard other kids talk about vacations and now it was finally her turn!  We went to a great campground by the Chesapeake Bay.  I camped there as a pre-teen with a friend and fell in love with the place.  Sonny and I camped there in the early years of our marriage, having fun taking weekend trips to the shore.  It is a place that holds memories for me and I was glad that Megan could enjoy it and grow up with fun Chesapeake Bay camping memories.  However, considering the recent circumstances, and his lack of effort at making things better, I was in no way looking forward to being cooped up in a car with him for 5 hours.  But, I made the best of it for Meg.  Needless to say, I brought lots of reading material!  His excuses for not making an effort to fix things ran the gamut from "I'm working a lot" to "I'm stressed out because of work" to "I'm tired" to "I don't have time".  Assuming those were valid excuses, a person would think that on vacation, (where he can rest, doesn't have to work, isn't stressed out about his job and his crappy production manager, and has nothing but time), he would finally make great strides (or at least baby steps) towards showing me he wanted to fix things.  Nope.  Not even almost.  We stayed 3 nights.  He had 3 chances to hold my hand, walk out on the pier, sit together and watch the sunset on the bay.  It would have taken a half hour max, cost nothing, and required little effort.  On our last night there, I went out on the pier by myself, watched the sunset on the bay alone, and cried.

Becoming A Stranger

That was the beginning of the end.  That's when I stopped making all the effort.  For a short while, we just went through the motions.  Then began the rapid decline of our marriage.  Now, we are like roommates.  Two strangers living in the same house.  We barely speak, he goes out of his way to avoid contact, he acts like he never knew me.  I am amazed at how two people can live together for nearly 21 years, sharing life together for so long, and so quickly be reduced to acting like strangers.  One day recently, I was at the kitchen counter and he stood in the middle of the kitchen and waited for me to leave the counter just so he wouldn't have to stand next to me.  That hurts.  I can't even begin to express how deeply that cuts.  This is what I get for trying to be a good wife.  This is what I get for over 20 years of always helping him solve his problems, for being his secretary conducting practically all the business, for having a hot home-cooked meal on the table almost every night, for having his lunch packed almost every day, for sticking by him through thick and thin, for bearing him a child.  My reward for it all?  I am a stranger.