So he came home last night and we were happy to see each other; I greeted him at the door and we embraced and had eye contact. That was nice. I assumed he had read the letter and though he hadn’t yet responded, I figured that it was because he was busy, and yet now that he’d greeted me warmly I figured he had not minded it. I was relieved. Because I was expecting him to have minded it.
I sat at the table with him, without my phone, and he sat at the table with me, with his phone (though not looking at it). I had a near-beer, a new one which I had discovered in the specialty beers section while buying his favourite kind. I offered him a taste of the near-beer; he did taste it; no comment on it. Launched into a story of the bar he had been to with work friends the night before, for an international team meet-up.
First thought I had was to realize I had been wrong about him not drinking during the week. (I have been tallying the units. It’s surprising how fast units can rack up, it doesn’t seem like much while you are drinking a few beers each day, but compared to the UK health recommendations of 14 per week… however, the amount is normal or average perhaps, for local man-standards.)
I must admit I felt jealous that he had been out. Not jealous of the bar situation, but jealous that he has real-life social activity with adults whose company he enjoys. (I have missed that since I stopped drinking.) I must admit I also felt a bit apprehensive.
Even back when I had the opportunity to go out I very rarely did unless it was with him. The reason for this is I did not want to put myself in situations of temptation (i.e. where men would be hitting on me). Especially while drinking. This is part of the method by which I have remained faithful for nearly two decades. (The other method is “Honesty is the best policy. So don’t do what you wouldn’t want to tell about later.”)
Anyway, point is, he has not yet read the letter. Says he has 15 thousand emails to get through (and he means that literally. And I believe him. But I very rarely send him emails, and if I do they are about household business, and he usually answers right away).
Before sending the letter by email I had sent him a text message mentioning that I’d written him a letter and was thinking of sending it. He’d responded “Nice!” That’d seemed encouraging, so I sent it and texted him saying so. The next contact I had from him was the usual message a couple days later, on commute day, saying he was on the plane. “On the plane [plane emoji]”
One thing I’ve noticed about myself is my tendency to self-blame (when I’m not blaming others, that is. ;))
When he first arrived home, putting away his things, he mentioned his contract was inexplicably renewed for a much shorter time than the last time. I was as surprised and dismayed as he seemed, but supportive, saying (truthfully, in that moment) that I’m sure it was just a glitch in their paperwork systems. Then he went back to work (online) and I went back to my to-do list. (I went on a cleaning and paperwork spree yesterday. Felt great by the way; got so much done and the house feels much more organized as does my inner personal ethics meter). But while cleaning, and thinking, I started freaking out inside.
Such is the way my mind works: “Omg, all those views from [that country] the other day, must mean they (his work mates, thus his employer) somehow know about my sobriety blog (it wouldn’t be that hard to find, and they are all geniuses anyway, so he says at least, and of course they might be curious, he’d met some of their wives/girlfriends that night. And apparently he’d mentioned to them that I wasn’t drinking anymore. “Great, maybe they think his wife’s a ‘drunk,’ they don’t want a guy with a wife who’s a ‘drunk’ (i.e. who used to drink as much as many of them do). Or maybe they don’t want a guy with a wife who blogs the truth (because they might become involved in the truth, as now).
Yes I know. I had to reason with myself afterwards:
1) Very unlikely they are thinking about you at all. Most people are too involved in themselves and their own lives. Or busy thinking of more important things. Like wars/world peace and stuff.
2) Even if they are thinking about you and or your sobriety blog, what’s not to like about sobriety? There are worse things in the world than being sober and honest. If they have a problem with that, it’s *their* problem. In that case, maybe a job change is meant to be. (I envisioned us having to sell our house, live in our van, travel around. Happy at last. Lol.)
3) Er, no. its certainly not you. If anything it’s related to his own drinking with the work boys, or it’s something work-related, period. In other words, Self, stop feeling that everything “bad” that happens is your fault.
In the evening we had a moment together relaxing in the sun. My knitting is going smashingly by the way. Row upon row upon row.
I asked him if he’d read the letter. But he was so tired, and said he hadn’t had the time yet. At first I’d felt all, “See, he is self-centred; doesn’t care about our marriage.” but later I felt, “Or perhaps, he is not self-centred; he is just getting on with things. It is me who is self-centred. Sometimes, he acts imperfectly, just as I do. Let bygones be bygones.”
I believe him on the time front. He’s truly does have a lot going on at the moment. I actually almost hope he will not read it now, since I am basically over it (having “expressed” myself, to the email gods at least — that was cathartic.) And because at the moment, we are getting along fine. Oh, and he had no idea I had a sobriety blog. I thought that was odd… thought I’d mentioned it before… thought he must have even seen the name of it. My computer is out in the open. But: “What sobriety blog?” he’d said, when I admitted my toilet-cleaning self-blame episode. Have to admit I was relieved. It’s actually really nice having a husband who minds his own business…
And this is the way our marriage has pretty much gone, for the past decade or so. For the first near-decade I “harped” on things, perhaps made mountains out of what might be molehills; the second decade I’ve let them go. It could be called “sweeping them under the carpet,” or… it could be called setting oneself free.
The knitting is very addictive. I have regained my old rhythm and the rainbow yarn is surprising me gently with its spun-out colours.
p.s. I have had an empty wine glass sitting beside me for the past few hours, while I read sobriety blogs and write. Previously it was filled with a single serving of Bonne Nouvelle. Funny, if it’d been alcoholic wine, pretty sure it would have been the bottle, not the glass, that was empty…