“I wish I could just flip a switch in you and make you into what I want you to be.”
That’s what he said last night. 4 months ago, it was “GREAT, if we know what it is, we can work with it, we can make it better.” 2 months ago – “You should move back in. Maybe we can get re-married.”
But now. A mere week after I finished moving back into our home completely and sold off or gave away everything I bought to start over again back in December, he’s talking about leaving again. Our 3rd “move-out” separation in a year.
I keep going back to “we can work with this.” Prior to moving back in, we made a few new rules. Stuff that would help me get a handle on my day. Like a laundry schedule and help doing it. Help making dinner. I would work harder to show affection. This has all gone by the wayside. It’s all gone back to business as usual. But I’M the one being accused of not making quick enough progress. It’s been 8 weeks.
I’m on an antidepressant now. I’m told that I’m being nicer. But I think that’s more a conscious effort than the drugs. All they really do is make my ears ring and give me super vivid dreams. Our couple’s therapist asked him “Doesn’t it mean anything to you that she’s willing to alter her brain chemistry for you?” The answer was “Not really, she would have probably done it on her own.” This is debatable.
He says he’s not happy. That he’s become co-dependant for having to become my parent. He says he is incapable of feeling joy, or anything at all. He drinks too much. The only difference now is that he says that he’s mad at himself. Mad for not putting a fork in this a long time ago. Mad at himself for always holding out hope that I’d eventually morph into the person he wanted me to be. He says that I’m easy. Easy because I have very few expectations in life and that it takes very little effort on his part for me to feel like everything is alright.
He’s been telling forever that it’s all my fault. And now he’s saying that it’s really all his fault for allowing our relationship to continue. I get that. I was unable to pay attention and this other person is literally screaming at me to pay attention to them. It’s textbook. It’s maddening. It’s my work. I may never understand it. I certainly can’t go back and make it better, so I don’t want to live back there. I got shit to do.