The Seven Vices of Wilma
1. She expected too much of everybody, including herself. She needed to be the best, needed to feel special, and needed things to be perfect, but they never were, so she was constantly disappointed with herself and the people around her.
2. She pushed herself too hard. She had several medical conditions which were made worse by stress and insufficient sleep, but despite that, she stayed up all hours of the night to do this project or that project, constantly wearing herself out. I tried to counsel her to slow down, to stop it, and when she wouldn’t listen, I got angry. So I became the controlling husband.
3. She was messy and didn’t see it. I’m messy too, but at least I see it and recognize it as my mess. She seemed to think it either wasn’t her mess, or what was hers wasn’t messy. When I cleaned out the apartment, I found tons of her mess and dirt she had left behind, and I cleaned it up so we could get the damage deposit back.
4. She over-reacts. I do too, but when she over-reacts, she also acts. She always wants to call somebody up and confront them, or whip off a yelly e-mail when she’s upset. I was constantly advising her to give it time, to wait, to be less confrontational in her language. Which, of course, added to the sense I was controlling.
5. She had no sense of planning for the future. Not in money, not in time, not in resources, nothing. That left the burden of constructing how we were going to pay for things and organize things (not physically, I mean) squarely on my shoulders. Not fair at all. I was always the bad guy, as a result. No, we can’t afford that now, no, we can’t use that for that, it has to be used for this, no we don’t have money to get that, and do this too, no, we don’t have time to go here, and go here, and do this, and get this done.
6. She couldn’t take criticism. Terrible combination with me, who doles it out too readily. Example: she was playing an REM song on her guitar, and it didn’t sound quite like the original. I asked her if she did that on purpose. She said that’s how it sounded. I wanted to go out and get the cd and show her. I’m sure I said that if she did that way on purpose, that was fine, but it wasn’t like the original. She cites that as one of the lasting scars. She says she couldn’t play the guitar in front of me after that. I swear I wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t condemning, just trying to make conversation.
7. She wanted specific, but contradictory things. She wanted me to be loving, caring, husband, who did special things for her constantly, like run her a bath with candles, bring her supper, hang out with her while she did her work, come to her to hug her instead of asking her to come to me (even if the distance was less than a foot, and where I was would have been less awkward for everyone), the husband who is very concerned about his wife’s safety when she travels around at night, who financially and emotionally supports his wife in her decision to quit her job and focus on her art work. At the same time, I couldn’t make any demands on her time, especially in the middle of a project (she was always in the middle of a project), I couldn’t ask for anything in return (cause then it would feel like the only reason I did anything for her was to get something back) I couldn’t talk about financial restraint, or ask that we discuss our major expenditures, I couldn’t try to do something special and fuck it up, or, do something special that wasn’t the kind of special she had in mind, I couldn’t get upset when she traveled through dangerous parts of town, by herself, walking, late at night.
Next Time: The Virtues of WIlma
2. She pushed herself too hard. She had several medical conditions which were made worse by stress and insufficient sleep, but despite that, she stayed up all hours of the night to do this project or that project, constantly wearing herself out. I tried to counsel her to slow down, to stop it, and when she wouldn’t listen, I got angry. So I became the controlling husband.
3. She was messy and didn’t see it. I’m messy too, but at least I see it and recognize it as my mess. She seemed to think it either wasn’t her mess, or what was hers wasn’t messy. When I cleaned out the apartment, I found tons of her mess and dirt she had left behind, and I cleaned it up so we could get the damage deposit back.
4. She over-reacts. I do too, but when she over-reacts, she also acts. She always wants to call somebody up and confront them, or whip off a yelly e-mail when she’s upset. I was constantly advising her to give it time, to wait, to be less confrontational in her language. Which, of course, added to the sense I was controlling.
5. She had no sense of planning for the future. Not in money, not in time, not in resources, nothing. That left the burden of constructing how we were going to pay for things and organize things (not physically, I mean) squarely on my shoulders. Not fair at all. I was always the bad guy, as a result. No, we can’t afford that now, no, we can’t use that for that, it has to be used for this, no we don’t have money to get that, and do this too, no, we don’t have time to go here, and go here, and do this, and get this done.
6. She couldn’t take criticism. Terrible combination with me, who doles it out too readily. Example: she was playing an REM song on her guitar, and it didn’t sound quite like the original. I asked her if she did that on purpose. She said that’s how it sounded. I wanted to go out and get the cd and show her. I’m sure I said that if she did that way on purpose, that was fine, but it wasn’t like the original. She cites that as one of the lasting scars. She says she couldn’t play the guitar in front of me after that. I swear I wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t condemning, just trying to make conversation.
7. She wanted specific, but contradictory things. She wanted me to be loving, caring, husband, who did special things for her constantly, like run her a bath with candles, bring her supper, hang out with her while she did her work, come to her to hug her instead of asking her to come to me (even if the distance was less than a foot, and where I was would have been less awkward for everyone), the husband who is very concerned about his wife’s safety when she travels around at night, who financially and emotionally supports his wife in her decision to quit her job and focus on her art work. At the same time, I couldn’t make any demands on her time, especially in the middle of a project (she was always in the middle of a project), I couldn’t ask for anything in return (cause then it would feel like the only reason I did anything for her was to get something back) I couldn’t talk about financial restraint, or ask that we discuss our major expenditures, I couldn’t try to do something special and fuck it up, or, do something special that wasn’t the kind of special she had in mind, I couldn’t get upset when she traveled through dangerous parts of town, by herself, walking, late at night.
Next Time: The Virtues of WIlma
posted by deadwriter at 9:00 a.m.
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