It had been about three weeks since Brad had told me about his feelings for Susan and I was reeling. I was in shock and hurting so incredibly much. The pain was intense. I had no idea I would feel actual physical pain. My skin felt burnt and my stomach ached. I thought my heart was truly breaking into tiny pieces inside my chest. I was going through the motions: taking care of the kids, going to work, grocery shopping, laundry, etc, etc but I was a mess inside. I hadn’t slept more than 4 hours a night for three weeks and I couldn’t keep anything but tea and soup down. I was pretending that everything was normal; when in reality my whole life had been drastically changed. I must have looked like a zombie.
We were going to the Christmas party put on by my work. It was at a really nice hotel in downtown St Pete. Brad and I dressed up and headed downtown. When we entered the restaurant I saw all my co-workers and their spouses. Everyone looked so dressed up and festive. Everyone looked so happy. I wondered how many of them were faking their happiness like I was. And it hit me: I wasn’t special anymore.
You see, my relationship with Brad had always made me feel extraordinary. I knew we had something really special. Sometimes I wondered what I had done to be so lucky. How did I get such a phenomenal husband? He was the absolute love of my life. I could literally feel myself light up when he walked in the room. Wow, someone somewhere must be looking out for me.
Sometimes I felt smug about it. I would look at other couples and laugh to myself about how much better our relationship was. I thought we had it all.
So, when I looked around the restaurant that night, I had an epiphany. I realized I wasn’t special at all. I was ordinary. Actually I was less than ordinary, because I had a husband who felt he needed another woman in his life to fulfill him. I was a failure. And my heart broke a little more.
As we were walking to the car afterwards, I started crying. Brad asked me what my problem was, so I told him. He became angry and told me to stop bringing this stuff up all the time. We drove home in silence.
Showing posts with label conflict. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conflict. Show all posts
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Thoughts on Anger
We never fought in our marriage. Not ever. We didn’t know how to. And this became a real problem, because infidelity is a huge issue that a couple has to tackle. Both parties have to feel safe communicating their feelings honestly, and both have to be able to accept the other party’s comments. We were a mess.
I’ve said this before – I’m not good at anger. Actually it’s more than that. I suck at anger. I mean it. I think it’s because I end up feeling worse afterwards. Not immediately afterwards, but a day or so later I feel I have to apologize to everyone who may have had to witness my tantrum. And I feel childish afterwards. It just doesn’t work for me, and isn’t worth it.
Brad is on the other end of the spectrum. He’s a master at anger. Apparently he had a terrible temper as a child, which is a really scary thought, because his temper now is, well, terrifying. Once when we had been living together for about six months or so we got into an argument. We were living in an apartment at the time. He threw his wine glass at the sliding glass door. It shattered. The plate glass window exploded. The wine glass was obliterated.
I learned quickly that making him feel bad about himself is a no-no. That is the worst thing you can do to him. Doesn’t matter what the subject is - money, friends, sex, kids, jobs, household stuff – whatever. If he feels that he’s being accused of being a bad guy he comes out guns blazing. His attacks are vicious, and he leaves his victims barely breathing. My discomfort at displaying anger increased, because now I was afraid of angering him. So I shut up. Or rather I swallowed the feelings and shut down.
One time a friend of his sent an email chiding him that he was losing his athletic touch. Granted the email had a few more zingers than it needed but it was meant to be funny, not mean. But Brad was terribly offended and felt foolish (which is another form of feeling bad about himself). He was furious. He went off. And that was the end of their relationship.
So where am I going with this? What happens to a couple of such extremes? Well, it worked, because I just backed off, and he controlled the house. If I didn’t like something, or was hurt by his behavior, I couldn’t tell him, so I didn’t. And if he didn’t like the way things were going he’d yell, scream and break something to regain what he felt was the upper hand.
We were really good at communicating through humor. When I was angry I could still use jokes to get through the day. And I could diffuse him with laughter too. It removed the stress.
Please don’t think that we lived together with him forever simmering and me simpering. Our life was really terrific 99% of the time. But we never learned how to handle conflict. I never learned to speak my mind confidently and he never learned to take responsibility. So when we found ourselves in the middle of this affair, neither of us was prepared to work our way through it because we had never learned how to fight. And it is so necessary if a marriage is going to survive.
I’ve said this before – I’m not good at anger. Actually it’s more than that. I suck at anger. I mean it. I think it’s because I end up feeling worse afterwards. Not immediately afterwards, but a day or so later I feel I have to apologize to everyone who may have had to witness my tantrum. And I feel childish afterwards. It just doesn’t work for me, and isn’t worth it.
Brad is on the other end of the spectrum. He’s a master at anger. Apparently he had a terrible temper as a child, which is a really scary thought, because his temper now is, well, terrifying. Once when we had been living together for about six months or so we got into an argument. We were living in an apartment at the time. He threw his wine glass at the sliding glass door. It shattered. The plate glass window exploded. The wine glass was obliterated.
I learned quickly that making him feel bad about himself is a no-no. That is the worst thing you can do to him. Doesn’t matter what the subject is - money, friends, sex, kids, jobs, household stuff – whatever. If he feels that he’s being accused of being a bad guy he comes out guns blazing. His attacks are vicious, and he leaves his victims barely breathing. My discomfort at displaying anger increased, because now I was afraid of angering him. So I shut up. Or rather I swallowed the feelings and shut down.
One time a friend of his sent an email chiding him that he was losing his athletic touch. Granted the email had a few more zingers than it needed but it was meant to be funny, not mean. But Brad was terribly offended and felt foolish (which is another form of feeling bad about himself). He was furious. He went off. And that was the end of their relationship.
So where am I going with this? What happens to a couple of such extremes? Well, it worked, because I just backed off, and he controlled the house. If I didn’t like something, or was hurt by his behavior, I couldn’t tell him, so I didn’t. And if he didn’t like the way things were going he’d yell, scream and break something to regain what he felt was the upper hand.
We were really good at communicating through humor. When I was angry I could still use jokes to get through the day. And I could diffuse him with laughter too. It removed the stress.
Please don’t think that we lived together with him forever simmering and me simpering. Our life was really terrific 99% of the time. But we never learned how to handle conflict. I never learned to speak my mind confidently and he never learned to take responsibility. So when we found ourselves in the middle of this affair, neither of us was prepared to work our way through it because we had never learned how to fight. And it is so necessary if a marriage is going to survive.
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