In recent weeks, partly based on some very helpful advice from a friend, I had seen what I thought was a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, my situation might get resolved without my wife moving out. This resulted in Perky Me: witty e-mails and blog comments, going out cheerfully, and generally setting aside the difficulties. For this reason, the hope and the happiness it created, is worth a thank you. I’d ‘out’ you as link, but I didn’t check if that would be ok, but you know who you are…
I had the chance to sit down with my wife, Danielle, last night and talk. I explained that I had tried recently to be Mr. Nice Guy, although not necessarily with a lot of success on my part as a result of working hours, meetings, an upcoming election, and other events.
I asked if she thought that the ‘basement bedroom suite’ separation was working out for her and giving her some space. No, she said. Too many interruptions, not enough privacy. Not easy to have friends, even a man-friend, over.
Ignoring the implications of that, I cut to the chase and said that I been thinking about how this might continue. I said that if we could be reasonable and talk more often and I could provide support, maybe that would change the direction this was headed, and I was prepared to tolerate the ongoing tension if it might result in a resolution.
She said she wanted to move out, and that she had found some apartments online, and wanted to know if I’d join her to go looking at them. We talked about whether or not this was certain, permanent, up for more discussion. She said that she absolutely needed the independence. She said she didn’t know if it was permanent or not, that maybe it might change in the future, but she couldn’t see it lasting any less than 6 months.
SIX? I thought she might say 1-3 months. (In a minute, I will explain the significance of this fallback plan being included).
She brought me into her room and showed me the apartments she’d been looking at. This wasn’t someone on the threshold of a decision, this was someone moving on. I had little choice and helped her eliminate some. She asked me to call the two best ones on her behalf, and I organized viewing appointments. (Amélie, my daughter, is pretty amazed that I am helping her with this at all. I talked to Amélie this evening when I let her drive around for a while. She wants me to make my wife move her own things out of the house, but I can’t do that.)
Back to the six months option…
There have been a number of stages in this separation. In each, there have been points where reconciliation would be simple to implement. However, I think we have just moved into a phase from which the chance of return is bleak. By contrast: Early on, she wanted no-one to know about the separation in case it got fixed. Last night she said that there is the chance she will want to move back home sometime.
I now think she is deceiving *herself*, not me. I think that perhaps she has been on a path to a permanent separation all along, but setting up fallback positions at each waypoint. Every well-intentioned effort to find a way out has been the right one to make on my part…just in case…but sometimes people just need to leave and to avoid it or fix it is like stopping the tide.
In some ways, I’m too run down to feel as crappy as I should. I’m so desperately tired, but each morning, I startle myself awake by 7:30am and can’t get back to sleep, or I have something I have to do and get up. Often, I am most of the way through a shower before I feel close to fully awake. If I wasn’t getting to sleep well after 2am each night, this might not be a big problem. I think that one really good night’s sleep might give me the reserves I need.
Re-reading this is weird. I am not sure I can believe it’s real, it is now going to happen soon (in as little as a week), and the earlier threats to move out are shifting into actions.
I had been hoping, denying, wondering, …
I have been able to be my normal witty, perky me for a few weeks because the lull in proceedings seemed to indicate that maybe nothing would happen after all.
Now I feel like being happy was me being a fraud. I feel like a single touch and I would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.