After a wonderful, awesome, amazing weekend spent entirely with my bio kids (as dear hubby and evil spawn were gone) today seems to be such a disappointment. Intellectually, I understand dear hubby’s narcissistic personality disorder is the reason/cause/excuse for the way he treats me. I know it and I accept that he is never going to improve/seek help/love me. But in my heart, I have a broken weeping area for what could have been. Opportunity lost to the hands of a disorder that is rooted in his awful childhood. And there is nothing I can do about it. Me, the fixer, the righter of wrongs, the mom, the amazing me just can’t.fix.him. And according to everything I have read, the chances of him ever fixing himself (even with psychotherapy) are about as remote as pigs flying.
So, this leaves me feeling like an outcast in an office full of roses and chocolates. My co-workers talk excitedly as I type this, comparing their v-day plans for the evening and looking forward to time spent with their “other half”. Mine acted as if this were just another day and barely gave me a peck on the cheek as I went out the door.
I doubt he even remembers what day this is.
Bath time is a much-anticipated nightly ritual with our crew. After the last spaghetti noodle has been slurped, the final scoop of mashed potato rubbed in the baby’s hair, a single morsel of chicken breast stolen off the floor by the cat…it’s off to the bathroom for some tubby time. Tubby time became particularly exciting over the weekend when the baby decided to “let loose”. Ewws and awwws were heard throughout the joint. And who had the pleasure of cleaning up such a lapse in etiquette. Yeppers, the Mama!
Anyway, this little incident got me to thinking about when something is not quite as it appears – an illusion. Dear Husband and I had a huge fight with lots of yelling, posturing, door slamming and blaming. We were supposedly fighting over an incident that had happened while his son was at daycare. Or I thought that’s what we were fighting about. But somewhere in the midst of chaos, I took a mental step back and realized it wasn’t about his son or his son’s crappy behavior or even about me at all. Dear Husband was mentally fighting with his ex; for not paying her child support on time, for not remembering to medicate their child over the previous weekend and for just being a crappy, unreliable, part-time at best mother. So while I was the one actually being yelled at and talked down to, it was her that he wanted to unleash on.
And while it didn’t cushion the blow of the fight all that much, I ate about 10 peanut butter oreos and went back to work after it was over.