We’re headed to therapy. Whoopee! We are mainly going because there’s an issue with a loan I gave him to help with his divorce, now years ago.
“I know you are very upset and that the underlying issue is money and the money I owe you. Everything seems to be super amplified because of it. It seems that the everyday things we are normally able to deal with are causing you angst and upsetting you. It is important to remember that everything in your life is not bad, it just seems like that right now because of a string of bad luck and you are stressed about money … I am going to make an appointment with a therapist for us and I will pay for it,” he writes to me in another email with the subject line “Us.” “I think it is important we sit down with someone to referee the situation and our feelings and help us get to the root of the problem, which sounds like it is money. At worst case, they will make sure we are listening to each other and not getting upset and turning it into a shouting match.
“My love for you has never wavered,” he writes. “If money is the root of our evil, we can certainly work through that. We come from different backgrounds and have different situations, and although your money is none of my business, it is important for you to realize where my money goes, especially if you are upset that I cannot pay you back right now in one lump sum. It is extremely hard owing you money, and being put under a microscope whenever I buy anything is very hard as well. I try and hide it because I don’t want it to affect us, but it is obviously affecting you, especially right now that money is tight for you. It had been tight for me for a while, but things are starting to happen and money will not be an issue anymore in the not so distant future. I guarantee that.”
By now, I don’t trust his “guarantees,” and I tell him so. In my head I think, If you’re not making enough money from your company, why don’t you man up and get a real job? Boyfriend, I believe and have seen, would make a brilliant salesperson working for another company. In fact, he started out as a salesman, making a lot of money, before he started his own business and the economy went to crap. But now Boyfriend is too proud to work for someone else. I can’t force him to stop being an “entrepreneur” and start working for someone else or another company. By even suggesting that he gets a job, working for someone else, I think he feels I’m emasculating him. He knows it. I know it. I feel sick thinking about emasculating him, which I don’t want to do and isn’t my intention.
Boyfriend’s texts go on to say that it crushes him to think that I think he’s taking advantage of me, and he adds that he has never felt this deeply for another woman. He also, finally, admits that he sometimes keeps more inside than he should, but he doesn’t want to “burden” me with his own stress when it comes to money because he knows I have my own to deal with.
He professes, too, that he will be more open with the money and his stress. “I have hit a few walls with getting loans, but I keep my head up and keep going. I didn’t want to tell you about everything because if they didn’t come through you would be upset. That is my bad for thinking that, but I don’t want to let you down. I am still very much pursuing other means to get money and I will not stop until I pay you back every penny. I can promise you that.”
All this, and still no apology! Again, all I really want is an apology, something like, “I’m sorry I can’t pay you back. I really am.” For years now, there have been these guarantees and promises, but they are never fulfilled. How can he not see that all his broken promises are breaking me?
So he doesn’t apologize; instead, he goes on to say how things will change when he starts making money. “I have no problem paying for more if not eventually paying for everything. I know money is extremely important in a relationship, but it shouldn’t dictate how much we love each other … People say that love is not enough, but without it what is there? Many couples have much less than us but they are happy because they love and support each other unconditionally … I am going to make an appointment to see a marriage therapist because I would do anything to keep us together and I agreed to fight for us when I proposed to you … I will pay for it, but I think it would help us actually absorb what we are saying to one another.”
At this point I will try anything — walk over hot coals, eat a carton of worms — to save our relationship, even though I have always sort of believed that going to marriage counselling is just a step toward a final breakup.
I like to think back, though, to the night Boyfriend proposed, because it makes me happy. I want and need to remember the good times, so the bad times don’t seem so bad, and to remember how much we once loved each other. I was in the very early stages of my pregnancy and we were going to Mexico for a vacation. Boyfriend had booked us into a fabulous hotel. On the second night we were there, I followed Boyfriend as we headed to dinner, but instead of going to a restaurant, I realized we were heading to the beach. My mouth dropped and tears sprang to my eyes when I saw a lone table, overlooking the beach, covered with a white tablecloth and with rose petals and candles everywhere. The scene was nothing short of dreamy.
I knew then that he was going to propose. And I really hadn’t expected it. In fact, I was blindsided. It was a complete surprise! It was obvious Boyfriend had put a ton of effort into organizing this night and his proposal to make it special and romantic and memorable. Definitely memorable. It was, and remains, the most romantic evening of my entire life.
He picked up his phone after we finished our first course and said he needed to read something to me. I could tell he was nervous, and so was I. And, because we were still writing poems to each other, he read me the following off his phone:
You are the love of my life, my best friend and my soulmate
Everything we do together is simply great.
I know this may seem sappy
But you make me so happy.
You are so sweet
And without you I don’t feel complete.
I feel like you’re always on my team
And when you smile you give off such a special gleam.
Even though you’ve been complaining throughout the day
There is something I have to say.
There is one thing that I’ve never been more sure about in my life
That is, to ask you to be my wife.
Of course, tears of joy sprang to my eyes as a bottle of champagne was popped open, the cork flying and landing somewhere on the beach. I said, “Yes!” and we kissed and I wiped away tears and he wiped away tears. And we both took a sip of the champagne. His proposal was absolutely perfect. I had a baby growing in my stomach and a gorgeous ring on my finger and a man I loved deeply.
The next morning, I told Boyfriend we needed to go back to the beach to find the cork that had flown into the dark night so I could have a keepsake of the best night of my life. I found the cork within seconds and thought, We are definitely meant to be. I was so fucking happy that night, deliriously happy, truly believing there wasn’t a happier girl on the planet than me.
It really was like a fairytale. So how did we go from that, and sending notes to each other with the subject line “Poem,” to sending each other notes with the subject line “Us”?
We just did, and so, yes, years into blending our families, we are headed to couples counselling. I’m not opposed to seeing a therapist with Boyfriend. I’m tired of his promises and guarantees that never seem to come to fruition, which makes me act like a total bitch. I think he must definitely be tired of my constant complaints over his broken promises. We do need someone to referee our fights. Boyfriend, as I’ve mentioned, is a salesperson at heart, and I find it truly frustrating to argue with him because he can sell his way out of everything, making me think that I’m the crazy one for having the feelings I have and that my perceptions are not based in reality. Let him think I’m crazy, I think to myself. Doesn’t every guy, at one point, think his spouse is crazy? I’ll let him think that, because I’m not crazy, I’m just super self-aware and wear my heart on my sleeve.
Boyfriend argues
that my accusations, distrust, and whatever other insecurities I have are “always projected” onto him. He will tell me that I get so “irate” and that I react and don’t think of the consequences or damage I cause, and that trying to “deal” with me is “mentally and physically draining.” I, too, feel mentally and physically drained. When we argue, I bring up things from the past, and the subject of our argument gets lost in a bigger argument about other slights, which leads to arguments about other issues. We can’t seem to deal with one issue at a time because we never truly resolve any of our issues before moving on to the next ones. We both agree that our “discussions,” or arguments, are never constructive. So therapy, here we come! Boyfriend finds a therapist on the internet, and he makes an appointment for us.
This should be fun.
· EIGHTEEN ·
Even though my blended family can often seem far from blended, what with all the bullshit that rears its ugly head, often when I least expect it, other people have figured out how to make blended splendid for the long term. I’m extremely jealous of these people and wonder if I don’t have the right genes in me to be in a blended family, especially when I feel that Boyfriend thinks I’m selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. Yes, I make mistakes. Yes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. And, yes, I’m starting to feel that if Boyfriend can’t handle me at my worst, then he sure as hell doesn’t deserve me at my best.
I want so badly for us to get back to the way we were. I want to be at my best. Yet the harder I try, it seems the harder I fail, which of course makes me feel like a failure. I start to hate looking at social media, where every day I see other couples writing sappy “Happy Anniversary” messages for the world to see. I get annoyed by these posts, like I get annoyed by people who constantly post about their workouts. Actually, they make me sad. I want to know their secret to making it to twelve years, twenty-four years, while I’m trying to make it to seven.
As I mentioned, some of my friends who grew up in blended families were perfectly happy. One such friend tells me it was an a-okay way to grow up. “When I was about ten or eleven, my mom meets this man at Sunday school. They started up a friendship while we kids were in class. She started to talk about ‘my friend Mike.’ He was married. He has three kids, younger than me. This didn’t concern me until I was about twelve or thirteen. He left his wife, moved into a basement apartment, and started hanging out with his kids at our house.”
It was fine, she explained. In fact, she liked having kids around her after being an only child for so long. She says he was a great guy. But when he started sleeping over and it became apparent that they were more than just friends, my friend started to feel really threatened. “I got very insecure and needy. I put myself between them and forced my mother to choose. I was rude and obnoxious to him. We all fought a lot. Finally, my mother, who never got angry with me, said, ‘This man is the love of my life and my chance at happiness as a woman. I am more than just your mother. I need a life too.’”
It was a conversation, my friend says, that “woke me up.”
“I then went to overnight camp with my three ‘siblings’ and was one of their counsellors. We had a great summer. We were really close,” she says. I try not to let the fact that she bonded with her stepsiblings at summer camp make me feel angry yet again, never forgetting that Boyfriend’s ex may have stood in the way of this opportunity for my own blended children to bond.
She also “finally” allowed her stepfather into her heart and realized how wonderful he was. “The only dad I ever knew. He treated me like his own child. No struggles. No arguments. It was a very successful blended family. He called me his daughter, not stepdaughter.”
Now, looking back as an adult, she says she realizes that she had a model blended family. “We were lucky. We all got along. His kids loved my mom and I loved their dad. No one was left out. No one was jealous.”
But, while she was having a successful blended experience, the unthinkable happened. Her mother passed away in a fire at their home. It was just the three of them that night; his kids were elsewhere. “My rock was gone. My stepfather was beyond depressed and guilty. It was a terrible time for all of us. We did our best to stay together over the years, but now I felt like I had no place in ‘their’ family. Our blended became unblended,” she says.
Over the years, they drifted away from each other, especially after she got married and had her own son. “My stepdad was still a rock for me, but now it felt like a ‘duty’ instead of real love. He met a new woman and got married. Now, I had to blend into his family. We had to re-blend.” But it was too much, and my friend started to pull away. “I had some very long-standing and deep relationships, and those people became my family. For a while I had a relationship only with my stepfather, behind his wife’s back. He helped me financially and emotionally. He was a really good man. I love him to this day, but we are all estranged and have been for the past decade.”
Five years ago, she reached out to him. Then again, three years ago. “But he wasn’t receptive anymore. I think I hurt him. I know he hurt me. It’s been a long time now.”
Upon hearing her story, I, too, feel that I should be grateful. It also makes me wonder what would happen to my daughter if Boyfriend and I broke up. Would she still have a relationship with him? Would I still have a relationship with his children? Unlike nuclear families, with two parents of biological children, when a blended family breaks up, you not only lose your partner, but you also lose a lot of people who have been in your life for years. When you’re in a traditional marriage and break up, you’ll still see your kids at least 50 percent of the time. I’m not ready to give all that up — the thought of losing not just Boyfriend, but also his children, his parents, and even the damn dog, seems sadder than sticking it out.
The therapist Boyfriend and I see works out of her house. She is older, but I’m glad to learn that she knows what comes along with a blended family, because she is in one and has been for years. Certainly she can understand what we’re going through and what our issues are. Surely she can give us directions and advice. I pray she has answers for us. I pray she will get Boyfriend to see why I end up acting the way I do and why I react the way I do. I pray that she can tell me why I’m so sensitive and take things so personally. I pray, too, that she can make Boyfriend see that he can’t always be right when we argue.
I’ve seen a lot of therapists over my lifetime, and this one is a mediocre therapist, at best. Friendly enough. I don’t leave feeling better about things afterwards. But I don’t feel worse either. To tell you the truth, all Boyfriend and I did was talk over each other, with the therapist occasionally asking questions. On our way out, we make another appointment, in which we will again air our grievances, often forgetting that the therapist is in the room and that we are paying her to referee. I do, however, leave feeling better about our money arguments, because Boyfriend says in front of the therapist that he will chip in more and pay back the money I lent him way back, in installments. But then we start arguing over the therapist — rather, who is going to continue to pay for the therapist who is helping us get to the root of our resentment, which seems mostly to stem from money. Trust me, the irony is not lost.
Although Boyfriend has promised he will pay for the therapy, after only our second session he says he can’t afford it and asks that I pay for half. Therapy, I will admit, is fucking expensive. We originally saw the therapist to help us figure out our money issues and how Boyfriend can make me feel less taken advantage of. I refuse to chip in because he promised to pay, and I feel again that another promise is broken and that Boyfriend assumes I have an unlimited amount of money in my bank account. So, after just two sessions, we never go back. For months, before this therapist gives up on us, I get emails with invoices for our two appointments, which I forward to Boyfriend. Somehow the invoices arrive in my inbox.
· NINETEEN ·
I don’t remember the exact day that I told Boyfriend that I was in love
with him. But I do know the exact second, and will always remember the exact day, when I fell out of love with Boyfriend. Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight with him. It might have been lust at first sight. It started as a rebound relationship, but it rapidly turned into the real deal, not just a fling.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Boyfriend announced less than three months into our relationship, one night after we had sex and I was lying on top of him. We started kissing, and he turned me over so I was on my back and he was on top of me, looking me right in the eyes.
“I’m not quite there, but I am getting there,” I told him as he hovered over me. Less than twenty-four hours later, I told Boyfriend that I loved him too.
That was then.
After “then,” even when we had been fighting for months, I still loved him and thought things would eventually get better, that we were just in a slump.
Then one day, things change. October thirtieth, the day before Halloween. That is the day I know it is more than a slump.
What happens that leads to me to not loving Boyfriend anymore?
He is on a plane coming back from a business trip, and we have planned to meet up at a Halloween costume party later, one that friends of his hold each year at their home. I, meanwhile, am heading to another costume party first. Nana is babysitting Baby Holt. Rowan’s father is in town to visit her, and they are out for dinner with him and some of his friends. I’m dressed as a sort of sexy Batgirl, wearing a tight corset with the Batman logo, paired with a black skirt, and I complete the costume with a cape that covers only one shoulder.
Blissfully Blended Bullshit Page 21