What is this about?

Do we all have the seven year itch?  Why is it that most people I know are having troubles in their marriage?  One is going to nursing school so she can leave him when she graduates.  Another is dealing with some (weird) sexual issues, and a handful of them absolutely hate their lives and their kids act like “rat finks.”  Ow.

We’ve had our share of troubles, too.  I’m not saying we don’t.  Most of it is caused by arguments related to bipolar.  Mr. M is in love with my new friend.  She says things like I need to clean my room before I paper craft (I’m working on Christmas presents).  She also warns, not unlike Mr M, when I seem on the up swing.  Or downward.  Of course this serves to piss me off.  What do they know about me?  Answer:  Everything.

But back to the husband trouble… What is it about these guys?  Are they just comfortable enough not to notice their wives are floundering?  Or are they just upset with their wives, too?  So far the feelings have mostly been mutual, but one woman told her husband, “I’m not happy” and he took it like a shock.  I watched that Christian movie, Fireproof.  Skip that, if you get a chance, unless you like horrible acting and worse directing.  But the message was good.  The movie featured this youngish couple who were very selfish and fought constantly.  He was way out of line, but they both had issues, he was in love with porn and this boat he’d been saving up for.  She was a pharmaceutical rep who was slowly falling in love with one of the (married) doctors.  Husband did all he could to save their marriage, doing the 30 day love dare.  She was resistant until he used his boat money to buy all this junk for her ailing parents.  They got together and were happy again.

For about 1/2 an hour, I imagine, before something else gets brought up.

My parents both say that they are happily married, and they are coming up on 35 years.  What’s the key?  My dad used to counsel ex-prisoners on their lives.  his advice:  If you can stand ’em, marry ’em.  If you can’t stand ’em, divorce ’em.”   I guess, after all these years, they still stand each other.  Aw.

My dad will chew my mom out for random stuff, though.  Like when she asked him to turn on the barbecue while he is sitting on the couch with me and my brother, he’ll tell her, “I’ll be damned if I don’t have two kids here who can do what you asked ME to do.”  I doubt Mr. M would do that, but I also doubt that Mr M would call our relationship a “great” marriage.  In fact, I know he wouldn’t.  I asked him.

What makes a great marriage?  Some family friends matriarch claimed she and her husband NEVER fought for their entire marriage.  Not once.  I told about her to my old psychologist in Oakland and she joked, “Do you have sex?  Then there is no need for me.”  I can’t help but wonder, though, why they were so compatible.  Were they identical in desires and temperament?  Did they never get tired?  Did they have the opportunity to love the unloveable?  These people had four daughters.  Can you even imagine raising a kid and never disagree on what’s appropriate for them to do or how to act?  Did they never fight about money?  And like my psychologist asked, “Do you have sex?”

I am pretty sure that most of us would be completely lost, for a time, not being married.  (I think that also applies to women in abusive relationships.  We just don’t know how to act when we’re not being abused.)  Of course we would bounce back, if you’re woman (or man) enough to have psychological issues, deal with child loss, or even read this blog I have no doubt you can make it on your own.  But if you don’t have to, why?  I’m praying for the day I can be on an even keel.  I think Mr. M is too.  Who would want a wife who, in his words, “Is a different person everyday.”  It’s not fair to either of us for me to let myself hang on like this.   (Not in a nobody likes me I want to go eat worms, kinda way, but a I am going to strive to get better kinda way.

I’m 34 Friday.    This means I’ve been out of the hospital for almost three years.  I’m sure there are people that wanted me to go in, because they told me they thought I belonged there.  But I wouldn’t go.  (Here it’s a ‘behavioral center’.  That totally cracks me up.)  I haven’t really been suicidal at all, and I’m not homicidal either.  I get angry at her and I’ve tripped on her in a big way.  I yell more that I have before.  I’m[ not proud of the kind of Mama I’m being, but I’ve been worse.

I’ve been a worse wife too.  I love him.  I frequently respect him.  But I’m not a big keeper of the home.  He told me to come up and see our (my) bedroom.  He said, “it looks like a crazy person lives here.”  Objectively, it did.  The room was filled with brown boxes.  There were art supplies not put away, and a sloppily made bed.  I saw his point, but told him I needed all of them for the Christmas presents.  He required that I break them down and put them in the garage.  I haven’t done that yet.  I will.  Not today though.

I want some pudding.

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