When a relationship ends, especially if you weren't prepared you will ask yourself a million questions. What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently how much of this was my fault?... No matter the inanity of those questions and the likelihood that you will probably never really know, it's just part of the deal. It would be awesome if the person leaving could communicate the reasons clearly and honestly, but even if they could would you trust them completely? And in my case communication wasn't likely to happen now considering that was a big conflict before. Who-knows though maybe knowing you have nothing to loose makes it easier to talk.
However there are things you know without a doubt you are guilty of, things you should have addressed and some thing like fear or obstinacy or even laziness kept you from doing It.
My biggest problem started small and snowballed until I no longer knew how to fix it. It's a huge problem people with chronic illnesses are likely to face. One that can kill any forward motion and make you dependent and miserable.
My biggest problem was self-confidence.
I had it in spades when I met him, I worked my ass off and excelled and I got a 3.94 GPA and was offered a job at Sandia right out of school. I never needed a guy, I didn't have any debt and I moved cross country without anyone's help. I got tattoos and motorcycles, I played softball and rock-climbed, took salsa classes and just didn't give a damn what anyone thought. I shamed guys who said I only got my job because of my sex. My confidence was somewhere in that murky area between assertive and reckless, ego-fueled and deserved. I was without shame, and growing up I had experienced enough diversity to feel educated about life. Oui, my ignorance and naivety was astounding and that was perfectly ok by me.
So what happened to my abundance of confidence?
The F-word. Fibromyalgia that is. I didn't just up and loose it overnight though. It was a slow rot. It started with my motorcycle accident, at first I just felt embarrassed. My desire to prove just how awesome I was allowed me to be talked into a bike that was more power than I should have rightly been on, at least, with so little experience. That's just life lessons, I should have been able to just brush that off, I mean after a 6-week healing period of course. A 6-week healing period turned into a decade, so far...
Initially when I got sick I tried very hard to maintain my work, I also didn't really understand the bigness of it. According to all my doctors it would pass, I would heal and mostly It was all in my head. So even when the doctors would write letters saying I couldn't return to work for two weeks, then four, than three months, I still didn't get it. My work started to suffer, my relationships with co-workers started to fail and I thought this was all my fault. I was lazy, crazy, or burning out. Eventually, I was put on probation because my work performance was so poor, my project lead started sabotaging my credibility and I was required to account for every minute of my day. It was way too much.
My doctors had thrown around words like chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia while simultaneously saying those were wastebasket diagnosis, not real or just an excuse to prescribe opiates. Not great education if you ask me. Eventually I broke, I felt ashamed to be doing so poorly at work. I felt guilty for being sick and I started believing that I was incapable of performing. Maybe it was just a character flaw or maybe I wasn't as smart or talented as I had believed. In high school I had been the best drafter in my school, I won awards and even placed in state competitions twice. In college I outpaced my classes so much that I was given assistant teaching positions instead of class. I know I was good, it wasn't just a fluke. So I started thinking maybe I just wasn't cut out for corporate, maybe I didn't have the right work ethic or maybe I needed something more creative to keep me motivated.
So I quit Sandia, it was not a hard decision at the time. I gave up a 401k, Independent health insurance, full-time, full benefits job because I thought this was just a matter of desire and drive, of finding my place. I trusted the doctors telling me I was fine, nothing was wrong, and that no; I definitely did not have a disabling condition. Sometimes, most times, I wish I had stayed with Sandia and filed disability through them. Made the doctors and coworkers hear me and my problems. Before I ate up all my reserves and plundered head first in a new direction with no idea how to actually handle my situation. I believed in my ability to heal and my marriage to help me and my health system to guide me. I truly thought I was making the right choice. I would go back to school, learn a more creative and flexible skill and I would support us when I was done so he could do the same.
School was amazing and scary and completely exhausting, but I was good at this too. I could do this, I could. But shortly after starting school I stopped being able to do that and work. I figured that was ok, not that big of a deal because we could make it on one income for a while. It was only temporary. So I supplemented when I could but I just couldn't keep a job and make school a priority. School took everything I had. Every ounce of energy and concentration and that started to scare me too because it wasn't a 40 hour a week job. I rationalized by saying it took more to learn and practice than to do and when I had a job it would be more doing and less intense learning. That's normal right? Except, there were still glaring differences. I missed more class than everyone else and when I did make it I felt overwhelmed and tired constantly. I made up for it by being good, winning awards and being eager and dedicated to learn. When I had to take off an entire semester, again I thought I was just over stressed and needed a break, but I couldn't work during that time either. How do you explain that? Laziness? Was I having a breakdown? My doctors were beginning to address the idea of fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, insomnia, autoimmune, and so forth. Still they did not educate me on what those things might mean long-term. I started becoming obsessed with self-diagnosing, Google is a great tool but with so little information I was reaching for anything that might make sense or have a solution. This could not be nothing and I didn't want it to be something so undefinable and untreatable. I wasn't completely ignorant at this point, I was starting to get a picture but it was scary and depressing and it meant that all these choices I made were going to cost us. so I said eff that I'm not ok with that, I embraced denial and thought when I graduate I'll freelance, problem solved. Right?
During school I tried a lot of part-time work, anything I could. Every attempt failed and just highlighted another thing I couldn't tolerate. I worked at a kennel for a small bit. All I had to do was come in around 6 am to feed the cats, return at dinner to feed and clean kennels two days a week. I would make Saturday am, drag back Saturday evening clean the kennels and go home. Sunday morning however, I would often end up calling for help for the am feed because the chemicals to clean the day before made me so sick I couldn't sleep and not sleeping made my sleep medication linger which made driving both scary and exhausting. Some days when I would brave the drive there I'd feel to tired and sick to drive back, I'd sit in the car thinking how could I possibly be this tired. Oh they so did not understand. Neither did I. At this point I was really beginning to believe I was the worst employee ever, I felt destroyed calling in but desperate not to work, how could I be this tired? so I quit, I quit and I quit again. Nothing was ok. At school I was deemed mostly unreliable for class but good for deadlines and grades. I would do homework in bits and pieces or in great big indulgent blocks that would leave me wrecked for days. Often any class that had us sitting for more than an hour had me either in tears, wearing a brace, requesting special accommodations or leaving class early. DRAMA-QUEEN, something I had never been and was proud of. Now I felt like I couldn't stop complaining, it was starting a nasty self-hate cycle. Too many eyes were on me, I knew everyone was tired of hearing my complaints and my excuses. I lacked any solid evidence to explain but felt compelled to anyway. I mean if I couldn't understand how could anyone else possibly. I think it's normal to feel compelled to explain behaviors you know look bad, self preservation and all that. Only it just made me insufferable. One giant lazy excuse. At some point people don't want to hear about it and you loose all credibility. I knew it was not a good response but my pride demanded explanations, it was not what it looks like I swear!
I specifically remember a day when I could no longer bear to sit one more second in my computer class, I hurt so badly I was squirming in my seat. I got up and limped out of the class. When my soft-spoken teacher came out to reprimand me for just leaving his class I burst into giant heaving uncontrollable sobs, he had to wait 15 minutes just to understand why. He had a friend who had Fibro which only made me cry harder. I was loosing my shit. It got so bad that if I made eye contact with anyone for too long I'd start crying. That's about the time I learned anti-depressants and I do not get on. Bad things. Lyrica, same. Anti-inflammatories and muscle-relaxers, all bad. Everything that was supposed to work only made things worse. I was helpless.
At home I was getting desperate, I needed help. I couldn't keep the house clean, I couldn't keep finances straight I was getting emotional and irrationally irritable, it was all too much. I started relying on him more heavily for the life things. One by one he took over the expenses, became the sole earner and had to do more of the house stuff like cooking or dishes. I stopped doing his laundry all together, he was on his own. Still I thought this was temporary, just until I made it through school, he could handle that right? He wasn't happy about it and we had some disagreements but it didn't seem like too much at the time, at least that's what I told myself. I tried to convince him we could hire help to clean but he thought that was an unreasonable expense, I would just have to try harder and so would he.
Here is where I made one of my fatal errors. Instead of insisting on help -something that would have been good for us both. I accepted he was uncomfortable with it and just gave up the idea of it. I did this everywhere, he was uncomfortable with discussion about what was going on with me so I backed off on trying to educate him too. I felt like that was too much pressure. Big mistake. We needed to learn how to cope together, instead I did all the research, which he refused to read. And even though I didn't really expect him to start googling my every symptom I did hope he would read the articles I found helpful or informative. In response to this I started verbally repeating the information I had learned sort of force-feeding him this information anyway. I really believed at some point I would say just the right thing and he would go, oh ok now I get it. I went to all the appointments alone, I compromised my wants to make him more comfortable, but I also starting complaining more or making a bigger production of things than necessary because I felt so dismissed. It was a squeaky wheel approach. One that seriously backfired. Eventually I began to feel alone, unwanted and undeserving. He didn't want to know, so I stayed quiet or even lied about how I was, he didn't want to talk, so I shut up or just starting agreeing even when I didn't. He didn't want to do what I wanted so I did what he wanted instead and I hoped for change instead of forcing one. I felt like his wants and needs were more important because he provided and I just took. I stopped spending money on myself because of medical expenses and prescription costs. Eventually I stopped feeling like I should have any control in the finances; at least until I started making money. If he wanted something he could have it, it was the least I could do. He deserved to have a hobby and spend his hard-won money. Someday I would be bringing in money and when I did I would have a right to say how we spent it, but until then...
When his response was to spend more money on himself and start spending more time on his hobbies and start excluding me from conversations or decisions I thought if it's what he needs to be happy than I can do this for him. Besides its only temporary. Everyone needs some freedom, some space to grow, what I didn't realize was I was giving him the space to grow apart. The more I gave the more selfish he became. And I told myself this: I selfishly went back to school when he could have, I put my needs first and it isn't working out so I owe him until I can contribute equally (Which I knew to him meant 50/50 work and money) Many times he expressed how a marriage should be equal and that I wasn't doing my part. I thought he was right, I wasn't a good worker, I wasn't a good housekeeper, or a fun and engaging wife and with everything going on I wasn't likely going to be a mom either. Good intentions just weren't enough and a debt was owed. So I paid in any way I could. Every trip we took turned into a mountain biking trip. I was alone most of the time, left at a hotel, a campsite or in a car to read and watch the dog. He'd leave when the sun came up and come back for dinner and sleep. Every weekend was dedicated to mountain biking. It used to be Sunday's were off-limits they were family days, but that went away too. Then it was Monday and Wednesday nights and maybe Friday days, then really it was whenever he pleased. All of the money went to his mountain bikes or cars or gear and eventually even when he was home he was on the phone texting, talking to biking friends making plans or surfing forums and shopping for gear. I knew it was too much but he didn't agree. my rationality was this; I enjoy sitting next to him no matter what we're doing but I knew he got restless, how could I expect his full attention when sometimes I was too tired to even speak. How selfish was I that he should not text people while I'm boring him to death. He would shut down any conversation I wanted to have about it. Have you ever met someone who says emphatically "I won't talk about it" there were no discussions to be had. On the rare occasion I managed to actually start a conversation it was gluttonous for me, I couldn't help myself and all things would spill out at once until instead of a conversation it was a lecture and at some point in our relationship he started taking an opposing stand on anything I wanted to talk about so everything, even the most mundane things became a debate. Either way it ended leaving me feeling responsible for his behavior, he needed this because I couldn't do that. I stopped being his partner, just his responsibility. He lost all respect for me and with that I believe he started to resent me and anything I wanted felt like a chore.
I could feel these shifts but I was at a loss in how to handle them, I had lost my authority for anything at all. I had no idea how to reassert myself without causing resentment or bitterness and I felt like he deserved more than me. I lost myself altogether. Who was I? What was I worth if I couldn't do anything? The louder I voiced my concerns the more deaf to them he became. He wanted action; the one thing I could not provide. I wanted empathy; the one thing he was incapable of.
The most damaging straw for me was when my last job fired me. I tried everything and I failed miserably. I started out working full-time and quickly went down to half. I got sick with a really bad flare up, honestly the worst of my life. I was suicidal and close to bed-ridden. I started working from home but quickly was removed from the project. A project I was promised until completion no matter what, (Just business they said) and I was not good for business. My coworkers started using adjectives for me that had never been used to describe me before. Things like snippy, irritable, forgetful, disorganized, and worst of all caustic. And I thought I had been putting on my best face, grinning and bearing and people didn't know how much pain I was in or how tired I was. Instead, I just became a whiny asshole. They joke that I have bitchy resting face, but when my family and friends started repeating those words I knew I was not handling it as well as I had thought and it hurt to hear that's what people thought of me. I viewed myself as loving and compassionate, patient and open-minded. That made me feel so much less deserving. Sickness did not make me a better person and fibromyalgia was taking over my life. My self-worth at this point has been flushed down the toilet. And that is when I decided it was time. Time to apply for disability, time to admit this was my limit and I need help, it's not a want its a need.
This however was not well received by my husband. He didn't think that was acceptable, that most definitely made him uncomfortable. While he hasn't said it I believe this was the end of the marriage for him. This is when I felt him totally shut me out. People work that's just what we do, people who don't work are worthless or lazy or just not trying hard enough. That is how he made me feel. He made it clear that he was strongly opposed. I wasn't supposed to hire anyone to clean or help and he had stopped doing most of that when I stopped working, that was the trade off, if I quit working than I needed to be able to do the wife things- cook, clean, laundry, bills, errands ect, I couldn't, I was not doing my 50%. I still hoped when I got disability he would see that it did make sense and it would help me regain my confidence, I could breath and start living and I'd be contributing again. Even if it wasn't the way he or I imagined, at least I'd be able to take control of something. I was holding my breath but he wasn't holding his with me.
I may not have been responsible for his reactions but I am fully responsible for the way I dealt with this situation. I know I did it wrong, I should have gotten help, not just for me but for us and stood up for myself. I should have taken on the financial responsibility even though I didn't feel entitled. I should have set boundaries and not become a door mat for his selfish wants. I feel ridiculous when I think about the things I accepted because I felt I didn't deserve anything. I am not this weak-minded person that I seem to have become. I know that I am better than that. I made some bad judgement calls about future work but that shouldn't condemn me. Neither should my limitations, but I allowed it to. I think one of the reasons he loved me was for that confidence and without that I'm not the same person to him and I could never be again.
I wanted to be his partner, I wanted it so bad I gave into everything. I didn't fight for myself and I didn't make us better. I know he believes that no one can accept this and that couples don't grow from this. I think he's wrong, but only when they are united. How could you grow together if you can't work together? How can anyone ask you to never talk about a thing? How could you expect a person to keep their sense of humor in tack when they feel so dismissed and devalued?
I know that I thought or hoped that at some point he would come around, that he just needed time to learn. It took me a really long time to start the coping/acceptance part, I thought he deserved the time to come to that too. I made a lot of excuses why but ultimately I forgot how to love myself and honestly how could someone else love you if even you don't know how? It's possible I think to love someone enough for two but you can't expect that and that's a big responsibility some just aren't prepared for. I wish that he had been willing to learn and to try to save our marriage, it makes me sad that it was just done without a fight. I think that means he gave up a long time ago and I'm the master of denial and clinging to the past. I wish I had the tools to understand what I was doing before our marriage got here. I hope that someone can at least learn from my mistakes. I also cannot express the importance of getting a diagnosis and proper education about your expectations with chronic illness. I know it sounds like a cop-out but had a doctor truly believed and supported me and been willing to give me the diagnosis I might have been able to make a better-educated guess. A lot of damage can been done waiting for confirmation that you aren't crazy, lazy or just burnt-out. Had we together embraced the changes instead of fighting them we might have made it. I know there are no guarantees but isn't that what a commitment is for?
Lets get real with people, it might save some lives and lead to faster coping methods.
And if you are suffering from chronic illness it's not your fault but you must decide what you want and what your worth. Then make it happen, you have to be proactive in treatment, education, and coping (they are not the same thing, the right treatment will help you cope) Get help early and often.
If you are a spouse, get educated your spouse deserves that much. Get help too. You may not realize how much of an impact it will have on you but it is damaging to your health and wellness and if you want to help then learn when to ask for it for yourself too.
Talk without judgement, say what you're feeling. You need to share if you ever hope to understand each other's hopes and dreams, expectations, frustrations and resentments.
Wake up and choose love.