Wednesday, May 18, 2011

More Thoughts on my Marriage

My husband thinks he has the gift of prophecy. He tells me that he's never wrong about things.

Except for the times that he can't find his keys because he left them in his car and somebody stole them, or he left them in the front door and somebody stole them, or people have hidden cameras in our house and are monitoring his every move.

He also always knows what's best for me. Back when my youngest sister A. needed a place to live, I immediately said yes. And even though everything kind of went to hell in a handbasket, I don't regret it. I'm glad I got to have that time with her, especially considering that her life was tragically cut short.  But he was against it, and I fought him every inch of the way. Even now, when we talk about that situation, he claims he was right and if I'd only listened to him it would have saved me a lot of heartache.

I'm not saying I'm a perfect wife. Far from it.  I hate cleaning and housework. I've been known to keep up with things, though, when the house/apartment was in a condition in which I could do so and when I had time to do so.  It was frankly a lot easier to be a good housewife when I didn't have a job, and was just going to college. I also hate talking about things that stress me out. Maybe it's the bipolar (I'm bipolar II, and on 3 different medications for it), but when he starts getting stressy with me, I get really antsy and nervous and just flat hate it.  I also have anxiety, and a little agoraphobia, although oddly enough that's starting to improve, so I haven't accompanied him when he goes out on the weekends to catch some music.

He wants so much to protect me that he denies me the right and privilege of thinking for myself, learning for myself, and making my own mistakes without years of recriminations. I think that's the thing I hate the most.  Ten years after something happened, and when he gets mad at me he brings it up.  It's like I can never get away from it.

So now that I've been all critical, let me tell you some of the good things.  He'd literally give you the shirt off his back if you need it.   We have a former neighbour who was really in a bad, bad place, and my husband took him out and got him some decent clothes, gave him a little cash to see him through, and drove him around to run some errands. Our food storage (a subject on which he is obsessed) ends up being given to some close friends of ours on a fairly regular basis. He's a brilliant musician. He loves his family.

So how can I love someone so much, and loathe him so much at the same time?

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