Well, it was a doozy really [what is a doozy exactly? Perhaps it's the wrong word [no, it means unique/one-off - so it's fine]] - I couldn't write about it at the time, I felt in a daze, unconscious almost. M went away to Belgium with the choir from Friday morning to Sunday night and I simply managed the household without him. At the same time I read The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler. I found this book incredibly painful - it seemed to horribly like my marriage with Mark. Although neither of the characters was that like us - the wife was rather over-emotional and seemed to take too many things personally, and the husband was a bit unimaginative and didn't really know her... or at least that was how I took it. Eventually they divorced, but at the end you realise that they did love each other - and that while the marriage in a sense was wrong because they had the wrong personalities for each other, still love was possible.
So, this combined with actually missing Mark - well missing his support to be honest, I felt rather depressed - even moved to tears occasionally (Citalopram withdrawal - I stopped taking it about 5 days ago). It was a weird time, I had a lot to do - housework, cooking, washing - but I also felt weird - that I ought to have a chance to enjoy myself while M was away. In the event Anna cancelled our evening together which was very annoying, and I couldn't really do anything else at that late time - because of the rottid students... I had to feed them and once we'd done that, it was too late to go over to Marine Studios - so I suggested to the boys that we went out for a drink together. We went to the Bellvue and enjoyed the sea and the sky and the beginnings of the sunset on the terrace. I gave Ned a tenner to buy the drinks which he can do now... and it was all fine. Drinks (a large white wine, a pint of bitter and a large coke) came to £9.,95 - so good job no one wanted crisps.
On Saturday had a lie-in - read in bed - luxury! Got up - Ned did some cleaning, I did cooking for Amnesty Garden Party... brownies, puff pastry slices with courgette and goat cheese, ham and cheese wheels, marmite wheels. Went to Muriel's, chatted to some people, admired the garden, and bought some books then came home. Enjoyed lying in the garden, late lunch with the cat (who wanted the chicken in my sandwich) and reading. Then supper - Gina here, students "not hungry". Johny, the whingey Slovakian seems to live off banana - anorexic? or something odd definitely...
Then had another literary crisis. I bought an excellent book about sexual moraes and feminism in the period 1885-1914 - the era when David, the hero of Conscience was growing up. Just what I needed to understand the ethos/language of that time. I suddenly started to think "should I be concentrating on this now?" I am in a quandry - wondering whether Islanders and 17 Years were just deviations.... arrrgh.
But the central issue of the weekend, was as ever, my marriage. I wondered in M's absence whether I could live without him. The answer is, not in this house. I love it, but it is too large for me to cope with and even with the boys' help this weekend things were far from smooth. I began to think more fondly of Mark and since he has recently made a comment suggesting his regret for the great "it's all your fault" issue 3+ years ago, however he then followed it up with a joke about salamis - and I felt despair again. Why do men make adolescent jokes about sex - don't they realise that women don't find them endearing or particularly sexy... I might find it endearing it - if I was still in love with him, but I'm not. I suppose he is puzzled and confused and I ought to talk to him more about it. Why don't I?
I think if I did things might get better between us - but there's a part of me that doesn't want it to. That's really terrible, I want us - ultimately - to separate. This weekend was a trial... and it didn't work, because I felt I wanted him back... and that I would have a go at talking to him, and seeing if we could restore some of the affection in our relationship.
So having felt I wanted to try and get the relationship back, I went to collect him on Sunday. I watched the elderly husbands of the choir greet their wives with little kisses - and Mark waved enthusiastically at me... he then got into the car and launched into a discussion of the medieval architecture of Chimay church. He discussed the trip enthusiastically for 20 minutes until we got home. I didn't get a kiss, or a how are you? How did the weekend go? I was happy for him to have had a good time, and to feel stimulated etc. I didn't resent the feeling that I was a "prisoner of Thanet" at all...but an acknowledgement of me - my existence, presence, efforts, would have been nice.
Citalopram is the great drug for emotional ostriches - last week I could have written that sentence without welling up, this week, off the drug, I can't.
So what is the truth about our marriage? It's a collegiate affair: we are engaged in upbringing and home maintenance. Our house is our workplace, we continue to socialise after work - but we aren't having much fun. Maybe I am too gloomy and saturnine sometimes, and I do like my own company - but this is exacerbated by M's own tendencies this way. I need someone for the other side of me - the more jovial/mercurial bit... my humour tends to be sanguine rather than melancholic... I am resilient, this will continue for years.
It boils down, as usual, to this: would I rather be married to someone I feel so different from, just for the company? Or would I rather strike out on my own into uncertainty, as I did when I was 31...? But when I was 31 I had an inner belief that I would get married and have children. I'm not sure I have any such inner belief now - I mean I don't have a sense of a better. more appropriate relationship. I have a fantasy about it, but I wouldn't say I have any certainty about the LO seeing the error of his ways. I have no inner sense that if M and I separated that things would improve for me. I see us progressing into increasingly grumpy middle age and beyond...actually I don't. What I see now is me going to parties, talking to interesting people, giving talks and readings and getting about. So, there is an alternative - M not going, but fading - becoming less central perhaps. This is an image that sustains me, just as the getting married and having children, sustained me when I was younger. It will be all right. I think my underlying thought is that things will change, have to change, but that the kairos hasn't come yet. There will be a moment though, when everything slips into place with a click... and then the new cycle will begin. And what about M? I think, somehow, he'll be all right too.
Meanwhile I know the Citalopram is fading - I'm listening to my laptop playlist and tears pricking my eyes, and realising that too many of these songs remind me of emotions I haven't allowed myself to have for a while.
So, this combined with actually missing Mark - well missing his support to be honest, I felt rather depressed - even moved to tears occasionally (Citalopram withdrawal - I stopped taking it about 5 days ago). It was a weird time, I had a lot to do - housework, cooking, washing - but I also felt weird - that I ought to have a chance to enjoy myself while M was away. In the event Anna cancelled our evening together which was very annoying, and I couldn't really do anything else at that late time - because of the rottid students... I had to feed them and once we'd done that, it was too late to go over to Marine Studios - so I suggested to the boys that we went out for a drink together. We went to the Bellvue and enjoyed the sea and the sky and the beginnings of the sunset on the terrace. I gave Ned a tenner to buy the drinks which he can do now... and it was all fine. Drinks (a large white wine, a pint of bitter and a large coke) came to £9.,95 - so good job no one wanted crisps.
On Saturday had a lie-in - read in bed - luxury! Got up - Ned did some cleaning, I did cooking for Amnesty Garden Party... brownies, puff pastry slices with courgette and goat cheese, ham and cheese wheels, marmite wheels. Went to Muriel's, chatted to some people, admired the garden, and bought some books then came home. Enjoyed lying in the garden, late lunch with the cat (who wanted the chicken in my sandwich) and reading. Then supper - Gina here, students "not hungry". Johny, the whingey Slovakian seems to live off banana - anorexic? or something odd definitely...
Then had another literary crisis. I bought an excellent book about sexual moraes and feminism in the period 1885-1914 - the era when David, the hero of Conscience was growing up. Just what I needed to understand the ethos/language of that time. I suddenly started to think "should I be concentrating on this now?" I am in a quandry - wondering whether Islanders and 17 Years were just deviations.... arrrgh.
But the central issue of the weekend, was as ever, my marriage. I wondered in M's absence whether I could live without him. The answer is, not in this house. I love it, but it is too large for me to cope with and even with the boys' help this weekend things were far from smooth. I began to think more fondly of Mark and since he has recently made a comment suggesting his regret for the great "it's all your fault" issue 3+ years ago, however he then followed it up with a joke about salamis - and I felt despair again. Why do men make adolescent jokes about sex - don't they realise that women don't find them endearing or particularly sexy... I might find it endearing it - if I was still in love with him, but I'm not. I suppose he is puzzled and confused and I ought to talk to him more about it. Why don't I?
I think if I did things might get better between us - but there's a part of me that doesn't want it to. That's really terrible, I want us - ultimately - to separate. This weekend was a trial... and it didn't work, because I felt I wanted him back... and that I would have a go at talking to him, and seeing if we could restore some of the affection in our relationship.
So having felt I wanted to try and get the relationship back, I went to collect him on Sunday. I watched the elderly husbands of the choir greet their wives with little kisses - and Mark waved enthusiastically at me... he then got into the car and launched into a discussion of the medieval architecture of Chimay church. He discussed the trip enthusiastically for 20 minutes until we got home. I didn't get a kiss, or a how are you? How did the weekend go? I was happy for him to have had a good time, and to feel stimulated etc. I didn't resent the feeling that I was a "prisoner of Thanet" at all...but an acknowledgement of me - my existence, presence, efforts, would have been nice.
Citalopram is the great drug for emotional ostriches - last week I could have written that sentence without welling up, this week, off the drug, I can't.
So what is the truth about our marriage? It's a collegiate affair: we are engaged in upbringing and home maintenance. Our house is our workplace, we continue to socialise after work - but we aren't having much fun. Maybe I am too gloomy and saturnine sometimes, and I do like my own company - but this is exacerbated by M's own tendencies this way. I need someone for the other side of me - the more jovial/mercurial bit... my humour tends to be sanguine rather than melancholic... I am resilient, this will continue for years.
It boils down, as usual, to this: would I rather be married to someone I feel so different from, just for the company? Or would I rather strike out on my own into uncertainty, as I did when I was 31...? But when I was 31 I had an inner belief that I would get married and have children. I'm not sure I have any such inner belief now - I mean I don't have a sense of a better. more appropriate relationship. I have a fantasy about it, but I wouldn't say I have any certainty about the LO seeing the error of his ways. I have no inner sense that if M and I separated that things would improve for me. I see us progressing into increasingly grumpy middle age and beyond...actually I don't. What I see now is me going to parties, talking to interesting people, giving talks and readings and getting about. So, there is an alternative - M not going, but fading - becoming less central perhaps. This is an image that sustains me, just as the getting married and having children, sustained me when I was younger. It will be all right. I think my underlying thought is that things will change, have to change, but that the kairos hasn't come yet. There will be a moment though, when everything slips into place with a click... and then the new cycle will begin. And what about M? I think, somehow, he'll be all right too.
Meanwhile I know the Citalopram is fading - I'm listening to my laptop playlist and tears pricking my eyes, and realising that too many of these songs remind me of emotions I haven't allowed myself to have for a while.
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