The urge to say something to my soon-to-be-ex wife has been there for a while; the urge, after all this time, to finally accept my part in the slow, painful death of our marriage; to sympathise with her for having to put up with the obdurate, unemotional, uncommunicative man with whom she shared a home for over twenty years.
I knew exactly what I wanted to share with her: my Boarding School Survivor post, which I now realise was a hugely important milestone in my quest to understand myself, and to own the impact I have had on those around me. I didn’t realise I was on that quest when I wrote it. I would read it to her and let her respond.
A friend (I’m so lucky to have this kind of friend) pulled me up short.
“Are you planning to do that for her or for you?” she asked.
“What an excellent question!” said my therapist.
Hmmm….
Yes, I told myself, it would feel good for me, cathartic perhaps, to open up to her at last. But for her? Did she need that? I eventually decided that, in the current positive atmosphere between us, for her to know that I was aware so much of it had been horrible, and that I could now accept that I had made it so, might be a good thing.
I had a second thought. A blog post is like a film, each sentence worked and re-worked until the writer is happy with it, while a conversation is an unscripted performance, shot in a single take. I would be presenting my finely crafted, tightly scripted little movie, with its careful exposition of my themes of self discovery and regret. In reply, all she would have was stand-up on a bare stage.
So I put my blog post away and just talked, starting with how, with my therapist this morning, I’d shared my feelings about finally deciding who gets the Kenwood mixer (me) or the art ceramic piece in the hall (her) and moving on to what I had learned about myself over the last few years. I told her that I finally understood what it might have been to live with me and be faced with the blank wall of apparent indifference I presented to the outside world for much of that time. I said I felt guilty for that, and worried that some of the issues the boys had experienced with their own development might, in some way, be down to me.
I detected no bad feeling in her response. What she said was was full of empathy and care, and included a wish that my new understanding would help me in the future.
And, before she headed North, she hugged me, a proper hug, given and received for the first time in a very long time.
Would it be sad if the best part of a twenty year marriage was how it ended; if, only when it was all over, did we truly understand and accept each other for what we are? I think that might be a small sadness, but so much smaller than an ending that was all acrimony and bad feeling.
To leave a twenty year marriage as friends, committed to work together to support our kids.
That would be an achievement, that.
For both of us.
Bib – you did exactly right. You have grown so much in the time I have known you (I hope we can call ourselves friends – it seems slightly ironic that we bonded over the construction of that boarding school post, with me writing one of my own!)
You seemed so self assured when I met you, on line and in person, but there was a wall, a reining in of feelings and thoughts, a desire to keep most things to yourself. which I could see existed in your private life (of course it existed between us – maintaining our anonymity as sex bloggers!)
Now however you are opening up & taking advice from your friends, talking things through with your therapist, sharing little pieces of your kink with your brother and now letting your guard down in discussions with your wife. This is bi progress, this is growing and developing, you’re shouldering blame and striving to improve. This, my friend, is wonderful news . You seem in a much better place to weather the storms of life. Well done xx
First time here. Not sure if what you posted about is for your life. It’s sad, but I guess it has many positives. It will give you more freedom to explore.
If it was going to finish, it’s good it finished in a good way. If mine ends, I’d probably considered like a good thing we had to live. I wouldn’t look for something similar at all. I’d look for something totally different in fact. I’d explore. Although I’m sure it hurts at many levels, I hope you see that you are in a good position.