The Wife Who Isn’t A Wife

I actually put Splenda in my coffee this morning. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve been putting three heaping teaspoons of sugar in my coffee of late. That’s no way to start the day. I don’t like artificial sweeteners, but for now, they’ll do.

I ate “well” yesterday and better today. I’m hoping tomorrow will be even better.

The deposition was today and my husband was grilled for two hours. He called me later to fill me in. It went very well.

But before that, he texted me, “I might need a pep talk.” So I gave him a pep talk. And I let him talk about all the stuff he talks about: a documentary series I should watch called The Pyramid Code, and how he got into an argument with an academic on Sunday when he was having coffee with his friend about the purpose of the pyramids. And the mysticism of Free Masonry. Nothing changes for him. He still takes on the world. But I’m amazed he doesn’t miss me. Why doesn’t he miss me?

That’s what my pain boils down to. My ego can’t take that this man doesn’t need me or want me. Well, he does need me for his trial. The idea that he may never have loved me shakes me to my core. It’s even more confusing to think that he did love me, but no longer does.

I was at my storage unit when he called to fill me in. I was there searching for things to bring home, photograph, and put on eBay because I am broke, and I promised my daughter I’d help her pay for her dog’s cancer surgery. Life is moving in slow motion right now.

He talked and talked about the deposition and what an idiot the opposing attorney was. He said you must always go into a meeting knowing how it’s going to end. He’s quite eloquent and articulate and wears a jacket and tie and cologne well. I haven’t seen him in over a month.

As we ended our conversation he asked me how I was doing for money. I told him what I was doing. He said he had money he borrowed from his friend and did I want some. I said, “If you can spare it, it would be appreciated.” So I’m going to meet him tomorrow. He’s going to give me a couple hundred dollars.

I don’t know if he got the money from his friend, or if his mom is helping him. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I wonder if he’s only now offering me some money because he feels some obligation or guilt because I, in my weak mental state, make his case much stronger.

But I need the money, and he sure does owe me. Until a couple of months ago I paid for his cell phone. Before that I gave him money a couple of times; before I realized there was another woman in the picture. Before that, I gave him everything I owned.

I long to see him, but am also dreading it. It’s silly, really, since I will probably see him all of five minutes.

While I question his ethics and know that what he did to me was horrible, I do firmly believe that he wants to make it up to me somehow by giving me half his settlement. His lawyer told me that the agreement can’t be altered without both of us agreeing to it, so I feel good about that. My husband doesn’t want me back, but he wants to redeem himself just a little bit. Not only to me, but to my family, who always thought he was a loser because they cannot relate to someone who does not work.

It took me a while to see that he truly cannot work for someone else and by the time I fully realized that I was too far gone, emotionally and financially.

I am filled with sadness and compassion and maybe pity for him because he has just run and run and run from problems. At nearly 50, it makes me so sad to think he’ll continue this path and never have a normal home life. But perhaps that’s just me projecting what I want for myself.

I pray he takes this settlement and uses it wisely to get on his feet but I do fear he may let it trickle through his fingers. All his talk of being filthy rich all the time — one can really get sucked into that. There was no middle ground, no working towards something, no being happy along the way. It was always talk of being unbelievably and instantly rich, I guess because he’s a genius. So rich that you fulfill all the wishes and demands of your children and parents. So rich that you have several homes. But he never spoke of working. Just being very, very rich.

That’s a huge difference between us. I’ve always been willing to work and I want to work now. I worked from the age of 15 to about age 47. After that I just fell apart emotionally and could not be relied upon. I’m no longer that person. I’m ready to work again.

He told me I was a “small thinker” because after a while his dreams of super wealth just wore me out.

I don’t think I’ll ever hate him even though maybe I should. But for my sake and my recovery and my future, I still hope he leaves this town. It will be painful for me, but it’s the only way. Otherwise I’ll end up being his wife but not his wife. I won’t move on. I won’t be open to a real relationship. I’ll always have one foot in this one but without any intimacy.

Yet, I still don’t want another relationship. I still think other men will pale in comparison to him. I fear that other men will bore me. Is this a side effect of being married to a narcissist? I am leaning more and more to being happy living alone, in a house that I own and control, and having a significant other, a committed partner, who lives in his own home. Plus I can’t risk losing everything again.

He’s already promised a loan to his mother and this is how it will trickle away. I’ve never seen a family like this and if I were ever involved with such a volatile family again, I would absolutely make certain that none of our finances were ever combined. Why can’t they let him get on his feet before they start asking for money?

I need to work or run my own business. I need a new focus for my life. I can do it if given the chance — at least I think I can.

I’m ashamed to be starting from the bottom at my age, but there’s nothing else to do but start where I am.

My parents have been fighting for two days. Imagine that, fighting at 78 and 80 years old. Why don’t they just stop fighting? It’s tense around here and I can’t really get away because I’m conserving the gas in my car. I don’t get in the middle and I don’t take sides, but it can get very uncomfortable here. And I see the mistakes they are both making. What a shame.

Life is too short for this, people.

No swimming for me tomorrow. I’ve been asked to go into the kid’s center in the morning. It’s not easy to swim the hour, but you know what? I love it anyway. I truly do.


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