I'm not talking about food, of course.
Since Desi and Karen left, I've been trying to summon the stamina to clear my room...with a flu in between then and now. So today I have been domestic---and FINALLY took down my tiny tree. While I was carefully removing the glass ornaments, it occurred to me that this was the first Christmas tree I've had since college...that was MINE. Over the years, I had to compromise constantly to maintain peace in the house...and while that might sound great for the marriage, it was bad for me. I disliked being asked what I wanted, or liked---because 9 times out of 10, it didn't matter. I loved garland for trees...but he preferred tinsel---so garland was out. It was expensive, and messy, and hard to hang, he insisted.
I actually got to the point where I resented being asked what I liked, though that was a rare occurrence. Because it DIDN'T matter. That started years back, when we first bought our home---in February the gardening catalogs would start arriving. At first, it was fun to look through them...but...there was always a reason to not order the plants or flowers I liked. So...I was lucky if 10 percent of the garden was something I admired. So I decided it was a waste of my time. He said no...but if I REALLY wanted something, I should be prepared to argue for it.
Ummm...huh?
That struck me as the WEIRDEST logic on the planet. I believed that you should pick you battles with care---to keep the fights and disagreements to a minimum. I didn't want to sweat the small stuff...so I left the garden choices to him...and then we REALLY started to fight. Nope...not kidding. He DEMANDED I go through the catalogs, and choose things...even if he had no intention of getting them.
And we did that sort of thing a lot. "Where do you want to go for vacation?" That seems like a simple question. But no...it was a bear trap. No sooner did I express an preference, when it would be explained to me why that was a bad idea. And if the vacation didn't involve a tent, "we can't afford that". I used to love camping...until it became the ONLY vacation style available. After my first accident, we went on a trip to the Smokies. It was lovely...BUT...we were a half mile from the water supply. I had to hand carry pots full of water to the campsite, and I was in some serious pain. They didn't figure out about the bone shards in my spine will a few months later. But I had to sleep on a gravel bed under the tent floor...it and it HURT. Chuck would go off to take pictures, or hike---leaving me with Desi.
I cooked every meal...and cleaned up after...hauling the water three times a day. I find myself wondering why camping was such a thrill...I was doing the same stuff I did at home...only it was harder. The scenery was nice...but I went home more tired than I started out. A few weeks back, I was talking to Charles, and he shocked me by pinpointing exactly WHEN our marriage turned...that trip. I'm not sure he knows WHY, but he knows when. You could say that compromise KILLED my marriage. I tried not to keep score...but he did. Any time I wanted something, there was always logic to deny it...he would come home and SHUT OFF music---if it wasn't "his kind". He would complain about every meal...one thing had to be wrong...be it protein, carb, or veggie. I couldn't plan meals, because he only wanted to eat what he was "in the mood for"...and then he wanted it served immediately after he got home. If he had to wait, he got testy...later down right nasty.
I couldn't keep the "right" foods in the house. He refused salads, so keeping the makings was futile. He would wait til they had gone bad in the bin...THEN ask for one. If I fed him small, careful portions of food, in keeping with his diabetic requirements, he would get angry, and bitch about being hungry. If I fed him what he liked? I wasn't helping him with his weight issues. Just before I left, i remember looking in the pantry one day...and realizing there wasn't a single thing in there that I liked. I stopped taking meals with him more than a decade ago. If I tried to eat at the same time, he always needed something...a condiment, or a beverage...and he expected me to fetch it. My dinner would get cold...and I just stopped caring.
Sometimes, I read a blog from a newly married guy, or girl...and it sort of hurts. I only dimly can recall the "honeymoon" period we had...though it lasted about ten years. The next 20 sort of blurred them out. But today, I took down my small tree. I was loathe to do it...because it WAS perfect. Small, and pretty...one string of lights filled it. I had small glass ornaments, and yes...bead garland I found cheap during the season. I sleep well now...instead of wandering online every night til I am tired enough to sleep. I've started to lose weight. I only cook what I want to...and no one complains. I'm learning how to be who I was...who I've always been, before I took on wife, mother, and companion. And I am relishing small things that make me happy.
Some would consider it arrogant for a woman who left her husband to offer advice...but here it is. Make a point, at least once a month to make SURE you get something "your way". And do the same for the person you love. All half a loaf means is that you never get to enjoy something the way you like it...and I promise you that two decades of that will wear you down. It's not "selfish" when it keeps you whole...because half a person can't make a marriage work...that takes two whole people...on that you can count.
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