What
does it mean when your partner tells you that your life is "not exactly
what I signed up for?" After more than three decades?
What DID we sign up for, exactly?
What did we know, at twenty and twenty-one, about a relationship that would span almost as many years as our combined ages?
I always thought we got married because we were too stupid not to. We were "in love." That's what people did when they were in love. They got married.
Were
we signing up for something? I wouldn't have had a clue what to ask for
or where to sign for it. And I've always believed that cluelessness,
that naiveté, that "What the hell, let's just DO it!" …was mutual.
Evidently not.
After thirty-five years, I find I am not what he signed up for.
I have no idea where to go with that…
"Not
what I signed up for…" I couldn't shake those words for days. Brooded
about them almost non-stop. I thought I could bury them under work and
other concerns, but they kept rising to the surface like a fresh corpse.
For me, there is no such concept as, "Ignore it, and it will go away." I
can set things aside until they lose their sting, and go back and deal
with them later. But I can't just pretend they never existed and go
merrily on my way.
The
pronouncement that any endeavor, thirty years in, is not what one
signed up for is, at best, grossly immature; at worst, blindly
narcissistic. Either you went into the thing thinking you had no
particular expectations, and now find that any vague picture of
fulfillment and happiness you might have had in mind does not resemble
what has actually come to pass… Or you had a specific agenda (that did
not take into account any other person who might have been involved in
the endeavor along with you…say, a life partner, for example…) which you
suddenly realize has not been accomplished. And probably never will be.
And time is running out.
So,
what? Is the husband a hopeless Peter Pan? Or is he an unfeeling
taskmaster ruled by schedules, goals, and quantifiable results? I don't
think so. I think he's just feeling tired and old and a bit overmatched
by his life. To say that we have a lot on our plates right now would be a
laughable understatement.
We
may have, in fact, "signed up for" a little more than we are actually
capable of accomplishing, at this stage in our lives. At an age when
most people are backing off the throttle and beginning to coast into
retirement, we are working harder than we ever have.
There is a physical
and emotional cost to all this, which is harder on a couple of
semi-centenarians than it would be on a pair of twenty-somethings. But
there are two ways to look at it, really. Though it can be said that,
after thirty-plus years together, we'd rather be relaxing in our
side-by-side recliners than fending off challenges to the emotional
well-being of our partnership; it might also be true that if our
relationship did not have that thirty-year strong foundation,
we may now be chucking everything, turning our backs on each other and
on the challenge, and going off in search of something more fun and more
immediately gratifying. Isn't that what children DO these days?
Part
of the problem with the husband is that he is NOT the type of person to
TAKE control of life. He is happy when he has the underpinnings of job,
home and family, and then he kind of takes whatever life happens to
build upon that foundation. Oh, he's a hard worker. Tireless and
obsessive to the point of workaholism, in fact. But he's not
particularly creative or idealistic when it comes to what the job is.
His credo is that you do whatever your employer demands, and then some.
And you never, NEVER ask for a favor, or preferential treatment, or
even for some things you might have earned or deserve after a term of
dedicated and faithful service. Which would make him anyone's dream
employee. But which also makes him suck as an entrepreneur.
Because
you have to realize when you work for yourself, you are not only your
own employee, you are also your own boss. Which means you work hard,
yes. But you are also the person responsible for rewarding that
hard work. If you try to do one without the other, you burn out very
quickly. Which, unfortunately, is the place where the husband finds
himself at this moment. He still has his "day job," where he works very
hard and has been consistently under-valued and under-compensated for
sixteen years. But now, rather than coming home and going to the gym or
puttering around the garage or whatever else he used to do to let off
steam from work, he has the café to work at and worry about. To the
point of obsession. And he can't put himself into the mindset that HE is
the one who has to take control of some aspects of his life, to tweak
it so that it doesn't turn him into a smoldering cinder. He just works
and works and works, and then gets put out with me because our life is "not what he signed up for."
For
my part, I believed him when he told me that he wanted to partner with
me in owning the café. I believed we were setting ourselves up for the
time when his job would go away. Which looked imminent four years ago,
but these things have a way of dragging out way longer than seems
possible. So he's still toiling away for the sinking ship AND trying to
help me run the restaurant. Of course, this is an impossible situation
for him. But it's just as impossible for ME to run the café without a
partner. Especially now, when I don't think I could buy a decent
employee with a winning lottery ticket.
We are stuck, he and I, in this protracted limbo…responsible for almost
more than the two of us can physically handle. I don't think either of
us would have signed up for this had we known it was going to play out
this way. But it is what it is, and we have to not only work, but THINK
our way through it. It's the thinking part, the planning part, the
pro-active "I have to fix this so that it can work for me" part that the
husband is not so good at. And, truth be told, he gets pissed off at me
when I try to do that part for him. Or suggest that he do it.
"This is the only part of my life that I have control over!" he whined
to me the other night during the discussion that spawned the whole"
signing up" remark.
Fine.
Then control it, goddammit. If you won't let me help you fix it, then
deal with it yourself. But don't whine to me about what you did and did
not sign up for.
Fix. It.
Wow. That was amazingly unsupportive, wasn't it?
But it felt SO good…!
Whatever.
I'm pretty sure we'll ride out this storm, as we have so many over the
years. But sometimes, feeling exhausted, partnerless and friendless all
at the same time just…sucks. And this, this blog, is the only place I
have to go with this stuff. So I won't even apologize for whining.
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