This Endless Circle of a Rut

Today my entry is a bit on the serious side, and it will probably take more than one entry. First some background.

Before I met DH I dated a man I'll call DB (Dear Boyfriend). I don't know that he was dear, but I loved him. A lot. We were together, on and off, for 7 years. DB had a rough childhood. He was the youngest of 4 children. His mother died when he was a baby, and he and his siblings were separated and put into foster care for about 12 - 14 years. A fall from a tree when he was 6, a compound fracture in his right leg, and lack of medical care for a week, led to a near fatal infection, many years of hospitalization, wheelchairs, and one leg 3 inches shorter and a foot 3 sizes smaller than the other. He literally didn't walk unhindered until he was 15, when all the children were returned back to their father.

I met him when he was 19 and I was 20. He was, to me, gorgeous. His mother was Cajun, and he inherited her coloring, curly hair, brown eyes and fiery personality. He was what many would call a "bad boy". And we hit it off immediately. It was love at first sight.

The problem was he was addicted. To alcohol and drugs. At first it was the garden variety of drugs. And gradually his addictions grew more intense and more desperate until he was a hard-core junkie. I was addicted, though. To him.

It took a 3,000 mile move on my part, a major culture shock, and my finding out how extensive his web of lies was, and how lethal and damaging. And to save my own sanity, I cut all ties. It was one of the most heartrending decisions I made in my life. I was alone, 3,000 miles from my family and friends, and what friends I had left weren't talking to me. It sucked.

Enter my coworkers and friends J & J & R. They helped pull me out of my shell. We went to lunch, dinner, parties, shows. We took day trips and had adventures. Six months after I'd broken off all contact with DB I felt normal. And I was happy. And then one auspicious night, when we were at a nightclub, I met DH.

He was different. Fun. Gentlemanly. We started dating immediately. I accompanied him to his softball and basketball games. We played gin and backgammon and went to his out-of-town tournaments. We went to parties together and had our own adventures. We had our ups and downs; trust issues, emotional issues (primarily on my part). But he was a good man. And considering the previous 7 years, I wanted a good man. Needed one.

And here is the next twist. Years before I moved to Florida and met DH, my paternal grandmother and I had  what we would call date nights. I would go over to her apartment, we would do a thorough cleaning, visit with her friends, order pizza, watch C-SPAN (her favorite channel), read through her correspondence with her extended family, and talk. Some nights she would share stories about her childhood. Others about married life and life with dad and his brother. We both looked forward to these visits. It brought us closer. And she would share words of wisdom and advice. One of the last times I visited before I moved she shared some advice that I vividly remember to this day. "Don't be afraid to say 'No' just because you may hurt some one's feelings."

Now back to Florida and DH-to-be. A few months after we started dating our respective living situations changed, so we decided to move in together. We had virtually nothing. We each earned hardly anything and we were still paying off our own massive bills. But we had fun. We would have parties, go to parties, talk all night, go to games and tournaments, talk all day. Yes, we had our fights. But we always made up before going to sleep. Then I got pregnant with DD and everything changed.

We were both excited. I was a bit more terrified, but DH viewed it as an adventure. And then we started talking about marriage. DH is a staunch Catholic. Me? Southern Baptist. A lax Southern Baptist. Long story short, we were going to get married before DD was born, but DD decided to come roughly a month early. So, instead we married a year later when I was 4 months pregnant with DOS. We married in a Catholic church after I converted to Catholicism. And life was good.

Through the years, DH and I have had our disagreements. But more fundamental, we have found we have different philosophies; in child-rearing, finances, life in general. Sometimes our differences are minuscule. Other times, I don't know. They seem like the elephant in the room.

I have always been independent. I am also very strong-willed. Almost too much so. DH is more traditional. And he is also very laid-back. Put the two of us together, and there are times it is not a pretty picture.

There are times I get the impression DH feels emasculated. And I get the distinct impression that though he says he is responsible for not 'having what he deserves', he blames me. It is like he believes he is entitled to all that he thinks he should have at his age. And he's right when he says I don't understand. Because I don't. I mean, we have our children, a beautiful house, transportation, good jobs, etc. We may not have the funds to go on trips across the country or around the world. We may have a high bill ratio. And we may not be able to blow hundreds of dollars when we want. But we are healthy. We can pay our bills, and they will eventually get paid off. And life, in general, is good. To me, life is a journey. And who knows? As I always say, Hope Springs Eternal.

But DH. Here are some of the phrases I hear: "That is my karma." "That is my life goes." "I never get what I deserve." "No one listens to/understands/hears me." "My children don't care about me." "Nothing I say makes any difference." "I have a lot of good ideas but no one wants to hear them." "After all these years you still don't know me." "It's my fault no one takes me seriously." And I could go on.

And he's right. I don't understand him. I try, but try as I might I don't get it. No one is entitled. And so what if we owe more than we probably should? The situation may not be ideal, but we are still moving forward. And appearances can be deceiving. I recently found out a coworker/friend of mine has been divorced for several years, had her house foreclosed on and is in bankruptcy. By all appearances she is very well off. And other peers with two incomes, well, they are earning roughly the same incomes. Whereas, ours is lopsided, and that can and does affect expenses.

So, to what does he feel entitled? To retire at 62 and not have to work another day in his life? That is his goal. But it's not mine. Yes, it would be nice. More than nice. But realistically, we either downsize or keep working to stay in the house we are in.

Do you know what he would say to all of this? "You still don't understand what I'm trying to say. I deserve more respect. I deserve to be listened to. I deserve..." And again, I don't understand. I do respect him. I listen to him (though hearing the same diatribe time and time again does get old - and he certainly knows how to preach!). And I try to make him content if not happy. But it's just not enough. And that is when I ask myself - Is it me? To which he would say - "It's not all about you."

Then what is it? Because this - all this - sometimes I know this is not what I signed up for. I try but I can't make him happy. And I don't like the feeling that somehow I'm to blame. And all this energy - it could be redirected to truly doing something. Making a difference. But it's zapped because we are stuck in this endless circle of a rut. And I think back on my grandmother's advice and I wonder; did we get married because we didn't want to hurt the other person's feelings? I don't know. I just don't know.