Sorry about that. I’ve been contemplating how to word the update for the past couple of days, and end up doing things to get my mind off of it instead.
I appreciate everyone’s support and advice. divemaster, your story was indeed helpful. It helps to be reminded that our situation isn’t unique in the history of the world, and that other people have had similar experiences and lived to tell about it.
For those of you who are curious, concerned, or just bemused at my naivete:
The ATM card and checkbook aren’t really that much of a problem. There’s currently no money in the account, and I could have my office change my direct deposit without any problems. My savings (such as they are) and credit cards are all in my name, anyway.
She’s been in therapy for literally decades with the same psychiatrist, and is well aware of her own mental illness, at least in the non-depressive periods. It’s actually something as a pain in the ass for me, because she feels that spending so much time in therapy, being introspective, and analyzing her own emotions has made her qualified to analyze (and judge) other people. Problem is, when other’s opinions and judgements about themselves condradict what she’s determined is their problem, she’s mighty quick to start accusing the other person of being dishonest. EG, it took her two years to come around to the notion that I do indeed have ADD, and it does affect my interpersonal relationships.
Her therapist is good people, though. Though she’s ultimately there for my wife, and my wife only, she apparently hasn’t hesitated to back me up when she thinks what my wife is trying to pull bullshit. If it came down to it, I know that I could call her, and she would help my wife get hospitalized.
Oookay… the update:
There was no way in hell I was going to be able to get to sleep Thursday night, so I just decided to fuck around on the web. At about two in the morning, my wife walked in.
I told her that I don’t actually have a problem with her hanging out with her old boyfriends. Truth be told, I do trust her implicitly - on any other day, I would have been fine with the idea of her hanging out with whatsisname for a couple of hours. Even the other night, I didn’t expect her to be unfaithful; what hurt the most was that she would deliberately be so hateful.
Believe it or not, she apologized, and we talked for a few more hours.
I made it absolutely clear that I was absolving myself of the consequences of any of her actions from that day forward. She’s not allowed to make me responsible for her own sense of self-worth any more.
As y’all can probably guess, she’s not to happy with the idea.
Still, she seems to accept the logic of it, and though we may have to fight about it again, I think she knows that it’s a positive step.
For my part (please, nobody hit me), I agreed to make more active affirmations of my commitment to our relationship. I can see how this is a problem; since I’m the one working, doing most of the chores, going to school, and taking care of the things that she can’t “handle,” I do tend to get irrationally irritated when I start feeling that she’s deliberately not making any tangible contributions. Though I say “I love you” a dozen times a day, I don’t often let her know how impressed I am with her intelligence, empathy, insight, kindness, and sense of humor. She needs those intangibles, and while it’s not fair to hitch your entire sense of self-worth to them, it is fair to expect them from the partner who states that he intends to spend the rest of his life with you.
Anway, we actually slept in the same bed together, and (TMI!!!) made love for the first time in months.
I’m sure there are going to be plenty of you who might think I’m an idiot for letting her blind me with body fluids and not hightailing it. You might be right.
Still, until Thursday night, I never really occured to me that leaving her is an option that’s actually on the table. I’d always thought when push came to shove, it would be me who completely fucked things up, and not my poor, sainted wife.
Maybe it’s because I was raised Catholic and she wasn’t.
Anyway, I think my balls are finally descending from my abdomen. I’m going to do what I can to make sure that we never have another day like Thursday, but if she doesn’t do her part, too, I know that I can make it stop.
Frankly, this being the Pit and all, I’m a little disappointed that nobody called me a giant flaming asshole who deserves all the misery in the universe, but I think I can live with it.
Thanks, everybody. You’ve been a big help.
