Still Broken and Breaking More

By the recent posts, you might think that Eliza is All Fixed (isn't therapy wonderful) but I must disappoint you. I am still just as broken as before. Maybe even more broken, since now I see it all so clearly and feel it so intimately: every inconsistency, every defensive twitch, every anxious twitter, and every obsessive thought.

My house is still a mess.
I still forget to brush my teeth and shower regularly.
The migraines still plague me several times a week...
..possibly because my diet has never been worse (and my weight has never been higher).
My marriage has almost completely broken down.

My husband said he doesn't believe people can change. He doesn't see how I've changed. It was the first honest and reflective thing he said that night. I paused and considered how I felt. Sad. I felt sad that he couldn't see how much has changed for me. Curious. I felt curious about what I could do to express the internal changes more. Angry. I felt angry because I knew that part of the reason he doesn't see the changes are because they aren't happy changes for him.

I'm pushing him to express himself emotionally and authentically, but he's used to avoiding it. I want to talk about mistakes and express how I feel and negotiate compromises, whereas he is content to keep it all inside and resents me 'criticising' him. He is where I was before I started therapy. And he's resisting me now, like I resisted my therapist. He's afraid of hurting me, so he withholds his anger. He doesn't realise how bad that is. He doesn't understand why I now ask him to know and express himself, how withholding himself is a far greater punishment than hurting me.

So after months (years?) of persistently and patiently requesting, he's finally agreed to trying three sessions of couples therapy.

Will he resist the therapist? Will he interpret her role as being 2 against 1? Will he become even more defensive? Or will having a third party involved help him relax and face his fears?

It is a scary time. I'm sure he feels even more scared than me. He doesn't have the internal containment I've worked so hard for, after all. He doesn't have the confidence in himself. He isn't as comfortable feeling scared or hurt or sad. He feels betrayed by the wife who, after five years of marriage, now tells him that he doesn't know her, that the way he treats himself and her is broken, and that he can change but he has to want it for himself. That isn't love, not as he knows it. But it is love to me.

"You are committed to him." My therapist said. I sighed, resisting. Am I? I don't feel committed, but then what does that mean? Does commitment mean attraction? Does it mean an ever-present feeling of desire or a sexual attachment?

"I guess." No, it means acknowledging the past, accepting the present, and passing no judgment on the future. "No, I am committed." I am emboldened with this thought. I've sacrificed a lot of myself for this relationship. I have a realistic understanding of us both. Despite that, I have been patient throughout these challenges and changes. I've refused to put deadlines on anything. I respect us as we are. Moreover, I am prepared to do everything I can to make this better. To make us better.

And I trust in that process. I am committed to my husband. Commitment transforms promises into reality. In his insecurity and avoidance, he may see my efforts as the cause of his pain, but I know better. And if, in the end, our marriage breaks down, at least I have the knowledge and the feeling that I have done everything I could.

This could be much simpler. I've told him so many times, it would be easier for him to give up now. There are simpler, kinder, less questioning women out there who want nothing more than a simple, kind, less questioning man. If our worth was judged by behaviour in 'good times' alone, my husband would be a saint. He doesn't see how he needs to change because I am the only person telling him something is wrong. To everyone else, he's that perfectly adapted child -- submissive, smiling, and respectful. Who wouldn't want my husband? I married him for that calm, unconfrontational nature and now I'm telling him that isn't enough. That I need more.

No wonder he feels betrayed and confused. He doesn't want to change. He shouldn't have to. He doesn't need to, unless...


...unless he means it when he says he loves me. That he wants me. That he wants our marriage to work. So there is the conundrum. Is it easier to accept that you are broken in order to be with the person you love? Or to stick by yourself and give up the person you love most? To do the latter requires a huge amount of security and self-confidence, something I know for certain he doesn't have. Instead we have the third option: avoidance. For years this question has hung in between us, and I am the ONLY PERSON in this two-person marriage asking it. I am that ONLY PERSON because he avoids it. He feels safer avoiding it, accepting our half-marriage, than ask it because he is lacking the confidence to give me up.

He is, in a word, broken.

"Don't you love me?" He sits next to me, staring fixedly at his hands. He can't look me in the eye.

I pull his face towards mine. "We are broken, Drew. If someone you loved had diabetes, you would want them to get treatment for that." Love, a fuller love, means asking for more.

He wishes I loved him enough to accept him as he is.
I wish he loved me enough to ask for more.