I love you, but…
Generally, after a crisis cycle, I bounce back to how I relate to my husband. I am easily lulled into complacency when he returns to his normal self. I do not cling to my anger or fear. The last month has been different, as I am reflecting and coming to some hard truths. He knows it. He reads it in my body language. The way I can’t quite meet his eye.
He asked me, “Do you still love me.” I responded honestly, but not tenderly, “Yes.” It was a confirmation with a glaring “…but” dangling at the end. So he asked, “But?” “But I don’t trust you anymore.” And I rehashed much of what I have been writing here. Condensed. Less imagery. Similar to the many, many conversations we have had that started with something along the lines of “I can’t keep doing this. I need x, y, z from you.” He would respond with “I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be better. I will do what you ask.” Most recently it was, “No. Those solutions don’t work for me.” However, no alternative solution was forthcoming other than taking a step back from being a parent.
This time was different. I elaborated. I allowed myself to feel my defeat. He asked if I wanted him to leave,”What do you want? Be selfish.” But that’s not what I want at all. What I want is for him to be the partner and father that I need, and that the kids need. Wanting doesn’t make it true. He left it wide open for me to say, “Divorce. I want a divorce.” But I couldn’t say it, because that isn’t what I truly want, but I think it might be what we need.
I asked him to give me some time to think. That was as selfish as I can be, because it is an answer that left him hanging, waiting for me to make a decision.
He said he knew he had to change for me, for the kids, for himself. It rang hollow, because it is nothing he hasn’t said before. And that is what I felt. Hollow. There was no hope or comfort in his promise for action, just hollow skepticism.
Maybe he will follow through this time, maybe he won’t. How many times do I allow him to break that trust before it is finally enough?