Background
It's nothing new. Nothing shocking. Comparatively, this is very much a nothing in the scheme of the world and what's going on now. And even what goes on all the time. Things are going to hell now, but things have been hell for so many, even before this. There are so many horrible things that happen everywhere, and this can't touch that for sadness or injustice. I struggle with that concept daily, and of the selfishness I feel by not doing more, and by feeling the self-indulgent “need” to share my little version of hell, when faced with such overwhelming real shit-fuckery that exists in the world.
I very much fall into the category of someone who struggles with analysis paralysis. In life in general (like where and how I spend money), and in relationships. It's likely why I find myself here, writing anonymously, about something that is so insignificant to the world, but so many people go through it. And for those in the midst of it, the immediate, personal effects on the lives of those involved are huge. And for me, it's a quiet way to process, grieve and document. If that seems a bit emotionally distant, it likely due to me feeling that a couple college classes, 40+ years of living, and a lot of internet reading qualify me to be an armchair psychologist. I'm not quite delusional. Just looking to myself for answers and a place to vent. This is my form of introspective meditation — in print. And it's a near-silent rebuttal to all that I'm sure my soon-to-be ex is peddling to his family, friends, and those he wants to become more.
The decision was made a week before Christmas, 2019. It was 14 years, and many lies in the making. Of frustrations borne from suspecting more lies than I was willing to ferret out. It came from years of distrust, rarely getting a break from that “was that another lie?” rejoinder in my head. It's an omnipresent mental drain to doubt your partner. It builds up into years of anger, and resentment that they've been able to shape the narrative of the relationship — of how honest it's been. Of them deciding what the other is allowed to know. Keeping silent feeds it. Allows the lying to go unchallenged. But, you learn that challenging it gets you nowhere. My new favorite word: gaslighting. In its most subtle, nuanced usage, I'm betting the gaslighter doesn't even know they're doing it. It's their version of their life — and it doesn't need to be the truth.
And here is where I find myself. In the midst of a lockdown for a virus. Extremely lucky in that I'm still employed and have a roof over my head. Unlucky that I'm sheltering in place with someone who continues to lie to me. For financial reasons, we didn't jump to divorce immediately. And now we can't — because everything is closed for all but extreme emergencies.
As part of my self-imposed mental therapy, I'll be writing up bits and pieces. Adding new and old details. Trying to sort through it all. I'm not in denial and thinking that I'm anything close to a saint, or even that there's anyone else that would put up with my quirks and how I want to live. But, other than not being clear about my growing resentment over the years, I've never lied to him, never cheated. I've coddled him a bit (in terms of taking care of mundane living tasks) — but pulled back from that over time. And I've just lost respect for him.