LOL!!!! That'd do the trick! Sorry, I just picture imaginary smiley man reeking of cologne, wearing "as$ hugging jeans," sporting the fonzy walk and wondering why the W thinks something might be up!!!
if I were to answer: "Some friends," she would press the issue.
Boundaries.
"Hey hon -- back when you were my wife, that was just the kind of thing you had a right to know."
Ah, easier said than done, as it involves moving deeply into that gray area... She is at one end of the scale "we're psychologically separated", and I'm at the other... "well, okay, but we are still married," so in that paradigm, it's hard for me not to be truthful... What is "blocking" me from answering that way, I think, is "feeling" that it means I accept her premise... Which, perhaps I have to...
A&K, there is a significant double-standard in our sitch, not just with respect to this matter, but others; pre-bomb, I typically would not have pressed her (though that streak was broken when affair(s) came to light and when any resistance was no longer seen as a need for privacy, but rather a possible cover-up). We never got to the stage of full-transparency and non-contact to see we could get back to a place of normalcy where each of us could honor each other's need for some privacy.
New: What a Weekend
H-48 WAW-49 M-22 S-14,9 D-11 EA disc.-11/07 PA disc.-3/08 EA2?-6/08 to ?
if I were to answer: "Some friends," she would press the issue.
Boundaries.
"Hey hon -- back when you were my wife, that was just the kind of thing you had a right to know."
Ah, easier said than done, as it involves moving deeply into that gray area... She is at one end of the scale "we're psychologically separated", and I'm at the other... "well, okay, but we are still married," so in that paradigm, it's hard for me not to be truthful... What is "blocking" me from answering that way, I think, is "feeling" that it means I accept her premise... Which, perhaps I have to...
A&K, there is a significant double-standard in our sitch, not just with respect to this matter, but others; pre-bomb, I typically would not have pressed her (though that streak was broken when affair(s) came to light and when any resistance was no longer seen as a need for privacy, but rather a possible cover-up). We never got to the stage of full-transparency and non-contact to see we could get back to a place of normalcy where each of us could honor each other's need for some privacy.
Ok, Smileys is too much for your sitch IMO. Although, you never know. I once referred to "when we were married" with H and he said what do you mean "were married?" WTF??? Anyway, I think you should just do it. Start going out. When she asks where you are going, tell her "out with some friends" and leave immediately. If she calls, don't answer. If she grills you later. "You know, I don't really know everything you are doing and that is ok but I kind of want to have a little space myself too." This is all contingent upon you being ready. Stop being afraid. You said you don't have transparency anyway. So acknowledge that. There is only a double standard if you make one.
I don't know your sitch well enough and I am frankly too much of a mess myself to be directing anyone but, what is your impression of your R? Is W doing her own thing? If so, "Ok W, I get it and I will respect that and I am going to do my own thing as well."
You have a "need for privacy" now. IMO.
Seriously though, this is just IMO. And, as a woman, I'm telling you, I doubt she will respect you if you don't GAL. However, don't go apesh*t with it. Don't do the Fonzy thing. Don't be provocative. Just live. And, be your super awesome best listening attentive self when you are in her company and then back to all of those things you have to do. We are all in this and know how and why it feels scary to detach. I've been flailing for months. But, bit by bit.
And, I think I have done WAY better than I gave myself credit for looking back at how quickly I started to GAL and set boundaries post-bomb. The WAS will sometimes F with that, probe, taunt, intimidate etc. but, you can do it.
When I look at Herself, I totally see my wife. I feel love for her. I feel powerful sexual attraction for her -- more powerful, indeed, than for many many a month. I have to check the "honeys" and "sweeties" as they try to leave the mouth. When she's near me -- and she likes to do this close-physical-proximity thing, much closer than she used to before -- I have to physically restrain the arm or the hand from reaching around her or patting her bottom.
Yet simultaneously I can totally see her as my ex-wife. I can easily imagine myself with someone else.
And that disjuncture, that disconnect -- it causes me no cognitive dissonance, no pain, at all. I'm reminded of people who have near-death experiences and relate how they felt like they were floating above themselves, just watching the docs do their thing.
That's how I feel too. Sure I'd love to rebuild the marriage but I don't want to hinge the rest of my self around it and I won't. The door's open if you want to come back.
It's like the scene you mentioned from Band of Brothers; "Until you accept the fact that you're already dead, you can't do your job as a soldier." Or Jim Collin's conversation with Adm Jim Stockdale in "Good to Great":
I didn’t say anything for many minutes, and we continued the slow walk toward the faculty club, Stockdale limping and arc-swinging his stiff leg that had never fully recovered from repeated torture. Finally, after about a hundred meters of silence, I asked, “Who didn’t make it out?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “The optimists.”
“The optimists? I don’t understand,” I said, now completely confused, given what he’d said a hundred meters earlier.
“The optimists. Oh, they were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say,‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart.”
Another long pause, and more walking. Then he turned to me and said, “This is a very important lesson. You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”
To this day, I carry a mental image of Stockdale admonishing the optimists: “We’re not getting out by Christmas; deal with it!”
It's so much easier once you "deal with it".
Last edited by orangedog; 06/03/0906:13 PM.
"My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand." Thich Nhat Hanh
When I look at Herself, I totally see my wife. I feel love for her. I feel powerful sexual attraction for her -- more powerful, indeed, than for many many a month. I have to check the "honeys" and "sweeties" as they try to leave the mouth. When she's near me -- and she likes to do this close-physical-proximity thing, much closer than she used to before -- I have to physically restrain the arm or the hand from reaching around her or patting her bottom.
Yet simultaneously I can totally see her as my ex-wife. I can easily imagine myself with someone else.
And that disjuncture, that disconnect -- it causes me no cognitive dissonance, no pain, at all. I'm reminded of people who have near-death experiences and relate how they felt like they were floating above themselves, just watching the docs do their thing.
That's how I feel too. Sure I'd love to rebuild the marriage but I don't want to hinge the rest of my self around it and I won't. The door's open if you want to come back.
It's like the scene you mentioned from Band of Brothers; "Until you accept the fact that you're already dead, you can't do your job as a soldier." Or Jim Collin's conversation with Adm Jim Stockdale in "Good to Great":
I didn’t say anything for many minutes, and we continued the slow walk toward the faculty club, Stockdale limping and arc-swinging his stiff leg that had never fully recovered from repeated torture. Finally, after about a hundred meters of silence, I asked, “Who didn’t make it out?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “The optimists.”
“The optimists? I don’t understand,” I said, now completely confused, given what he’d said a hundred meters earlier.
“The optimists. Oh, they were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say,‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart.”
Another long pause, and more walking. Then he turned to me and said, “This is a very important lesson. You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”
To this day, I carry a mental image of Stockdale admonishing the optimists: “We’re not getting out by Christmas; deal with it!”
OK, defending the WAW here... (NOT BY CHOICE), BUT, when you originally talked about "THE LUNCH," was your appearance upgraded, smelling any better, sportin' a new pair of as$ hugging jeans? I can see her creating that scenario if so.
Better than that. Much, much better. In my robe, with severe bed-head, unshaved, with a pair of headphones around my neck (it was 6 in the morning, and I'd been up for 3 hours working).
WELL the mailman came today and brought my Special Letter! Stop, oh yeah, waitaminnit Mr. Postman -- wa-ay-ay-ayyyyyit Mr. Postman! Oh Mr. Postman, look and see, if there's a letter in your bag for me....
But the best part is that there's apparently some kind of Big Dumb Loser mailing list that I'm now on, and lots and lots of attorneys who -- I'm sure -- are deeply and sincerely concerned with my emotional well-being in this "time of trouble" are gallantly volunteering to help me through my struggle....
