The Leaving of Mrs B
Or, The Spiral of Eight Years.
As my previous readers may recall, at the time of the Night of the Blog Erase, my marriage was functional but not well. In the eight years since we reconciled, it was a slow spiral into failure. Some of it was my fault, some of it the fault of Mrs B, most of it both of our faults.
So, what went wrong? It might be easier to answer what went right, but here goes anyway...
As some might remember, Mrs B and I got back together in the aftermath of a minor surgery gone wrong. I spent 4-5 weeks on my back on her lounge room floor. It was inevitable that we talked about what happened, and I was unable to simply shut down the conversation by walking away.
Counselling - we did this as individuals, and tried it as a couple. Individually, it was pretty good. We got an understanding of ourselves. As a couple; not so great. The counsellor at the end of the second session pretty much blamed Mrs B for a lot of the problems leading up to our separation. While I felt a bit vindicated, I could see it shattered her. She refused to go anymore, and sought advice from her counsellor. The next time, it was her counsellor, I had only just sat down when it was declared that I was largely to blame. At the end of the session, Mrs B declared that we had no reason to go to counselling anymore, either as individuals or a couple.
For the last three years of our marriage, I'd asked Mrs B about counselling, as I could see it was turning to crap. She would refuse outright. It wasn't until the last year when she was diagnosed as suffering from depression that she began considering a counsellor, but only for her, not for us. The first time she spoke about getting counselling as a couple was the week after I walked out. I told her I thought it was too late.
My activities as a separated husband - As long time readers (actually, are there any out there anymore?) will recall, I was not a chaste man when I was separated. I don't beat myself up over that; the distant past is another country, and I was desperate to feel loved and wanted. I still am, if I'm being honest with myself. When Mrs B and I were talking about getting back together, she made a simple statement: "I don't want to know what you got up to". At the time, I agreed to it; in hindsight, I should have stopped her, and told her what I'd done. It all fell apart when we attended the wedding of two friends. As we were standing around talking, I heard a familiar voice say, "So, this must be the wife", with a tone that made it clear that she knew exactly who Mrs B was. It was a woman who I'd had a relationship with for a few months in the middle of the separation. She introduced herself, told Mrs B how fortunate she was, but that she thought herself more fortunate. Mrs B didn't say a word to me until we got home. That was in 2006 or so, and she has never forgiven me since.
My vasectomy - Or, How I removed the decision about whether we have another child. For years, this festered away in the background. Mrs B wasn't happy with my choice, made while we were separated, but told me that she could live with it. Turns out, she couldn't. Unfortunately, she suppressed that to her subconscious, and never once mentioned it to me until about a month after I'd left her. It was a major factor in her not being happy with anything I'd done to try and make her happy (see the next entry for more on that). Not only couldn't she live with it, she told me that if any children resulted from future relationships, or any found their way to me from past relationships, she will never speak to me again. Initially, I thought to myself, "For the win", but came to realise just how much this obviously hurt her.
Happiness, or lack there of - I thought I could make Mrs B happy. No, I couldn't. I could try and help her be happy, but that was largely ineffective. How can you help someone to be happy when you've fundamentally destroyed the foundations for their happiness? I've got a phrase I use with a mate, to replace the c-bomb when referring to someone who is acting in a highly offensive behaviour. That phrase is "toe webbing". With regard to my overall efforts at affecting Mrs B's happiness, I've been the biggest toe webbing ever to walk this planet.
As my previous readers may recall, at the time of the Night of the Blog Erase, my marriage was functional but not well. In the eight years since we reconciled, it was a slow spiral into failure. Some of it was my fault, some of it the fault of Mrs B, most of it both of our faults.
So, what went wrong? It might be easier to answer what went right, but here goes anyway...
As some might remember, Mrs B and I got back together in the aftermath of a minor surgery gone wrong. I spent 4-5 weeks on my back on her lounge room floor. It was inevitable that we talked about what happened, and I was unable to simply shut down the conversation by walking away.
Counselling - we did this as individuals, and tried it as a couple. Individually, it was pretty good. We got an understanding of ourselves. As a couple; not so great. The counsellor at the end of the second session pretty much blamed Mrs B for a lot of the problems leading up to our separation. While I felt a bit vindicated, I could see it shattered her. She refused to go anymore, and sought advice from her counsellor. The next time, it was her counsellor, I had only just sat down when it was declared that I was largely to blame. At the end of the session, Mrs B declared that we had no reason to go to counselling anymore, either as individuals or a couple.
For the last three years of our marriage, I'd asked Mrs B about counselling, as I could see it was turning to crap. She would refuse outright. It wasn't until the last year when she was diagnosed as suffering from depression that she began considering a counsellor, but only for her, not for us. The first time she spoke about getting counselling as a couple was the week after I walked out. I told her I thought it was too late.
My activities as a separated husband - As long time readers (actually, are there any out there anymore?) will recall, I was not a chaste man when I was separated. I don't beat myself up over that; the distant past is another country, and I was desperate to feel loved and wanted. I still am, if I'm being honest with myself. When Mrs B and I were talking about getting back together, she made a simple statement: "I don't want to know what you got up to". At the time, I agreed to it; in hindsight, I should have stopped her, and told her what I'd done. It all fell apart when we attended the wedding of two friends. As we were standing around talking, I heard a familiar voice say, "So, this must be the wife", with a tone that made it clear that she knew exactly who Mrs B was. It was a woman who I'd had a relationship with for a few months in the middle of the separation. She introduced herself, told Mrs B how fortunate she was, but that she thought herself more fortunate. Mrs B didn't say a word to me until we got home. That was in 2006 or so, and she has never forgiven me since.
My vasectomy - Or, How I removed the decision about whether we have another child. For years, this festered away in the background. Mrs B wasn't happy with my choice, made while we were separated, but told me that she could live with it. Turns out, she couldn't. Unfortunately, she suppressed that to her subconscious, and never once mentioned it to me until about a month after I'd left her. It was a major factor in her not being happy with anything I'd done to try and make her happy (see the next entry for more on that). Not only couldn't she live with it, she told me that if any children resulted from future relationships, or any found their way to me from past relationships, she will never speak to me again. Initially, I thought to myself, "For the win", but came to realise just how much this obviously hurt her.
Happiness, or lack there of - I thought I could make Mrs B happy. No, I couldn't. I could try and help her be happy, but that was largely ineffective. How can you help someone to be happy when you've fundamentally destroyed the foundations for their happiness? I've got a phrase I use with a mate, to replace the c-bomb when referring to someone who is acting in a highly offensive behaviour. That phrase is "toe webbing". With regard to my overall efforts at affecting Mrs B's happiness, I've been the biggest toe webbing ever to walk this planet.
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