The Lost LBS - 02/19/13 11:07 PM
Hello, all, and thank you for being here!
My story:
We were brought together by my little sister back in December 1977; I was returning home on leave from boot camp, she said that her best friend needed a date for a dance. I'd known her friend through the couple of years since she'd moved into the area and been friends with my sister, but never thought about her as anything more than an extra sibling. Anyway, the dance was a blast, we had a great time, and that was that.
I went off to various schools and assignments over the next couple of years, throughout which we wrote back and forth pretty consistently, me asking how school was going, etc. I'd take leave when I could, went home to be with her, then return to duty. Each time it was harder to get on the plane, and I soon realized just how good I felt with her.
In June 1979, I all but proposed in a letter; I told her I'd be home in July, with a few weeks of leave stacked up, and that I'd love to bring her back to Oahu with me as my bride. When I arrived home, bearing a second return ticket with her first and my last name on it, the girls went into "wedding now!" mode and put together a beautiful outdoor wedding at my parent's that I will carry with me forever. (Oh, Mom & Dad were just as much hers as mine by then.) To be honest, I have no idea when we first made love; it was not on our wedding night. We fell asleep exhausted in each others arms, and could have "tried each other on" the next morning. Dating had never progressed beyond heavy petting...
A three month honeymoon in Hawaii, four more years of service and the births of two wonderful children later, the time to rejoin the civilian world arrived. I asked where she would like to go, and she said "home", our roots in the Pacific Northwest, and I wholeheartedly agreed.
We've had our ups and downs, trials by fire and triumphant successes, and as far as I could tell, we were going to reach retirement and old age together.
Early December 2012, with both of us having reached 54, 33 years of marriage and 9 as "empty nesters" behind us, with meno and manopause happening almost simultaneously, ILYBNILWY has reared its ugly head. She didn't leave the house, but all intimacy stopped dead, the only conversations we had were utilitarian. She wouldn't talk about "us", my plea for counseling fell on deaf ears, and then one night I exploded...
I have never struck anyone since junior high, nor do I ever wish it to happen, and I believe she knows it, but I have the impression that I scared her to death that horrible night. I ranted and raved as she gathered things to leave, demanded the keys to our only car, the credit and debit cards for our joint accounts, and just being the most arrogant, blustering ass you can imagine times ten.
After the door slammed, the real me came out and I cried myself to sleep...
I found Michele's books the next morning, had them in my hands in the next few days, and read DB, DR and Sex-Starved Marriage (our biggest argument topic) in rapid succession, and multiple times.
Even then, the last 9 weeks have been difficult to say the least... I was left with full responsibility for our home, our felines, and the stuff we've gathered together, while she lives with friends and relatives. She's gotten a second job, making it two part-timers that still don't add up to much, she whines about being tired from all the hours, whines about not having any money, yet still tries to do the "her" things she did before leaving.
Being the breadwinner, I can easily keep our home and continue paying our debts, but I steadily grow more anxious about it all. I now resent where I am and what I'm stuck with, and have contemplated sending the felines off to family, locking the door behind me and giving it all up for the banks to squabble over, just to "serve her right" for leaving all of it and me behind.
As the weeks have gone by, my anxiety gathering, I've reached the point where just trying to sleep in "our" bed has become a nightmare. I'm on blood pressure medication (normal 120/80 before), a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, taking sleeping pills to get to sleep and who knows what next week's follow-up will bring.
I took an unplanned week vacation, loaded up the motor home, and parked myself in a safe place. Sleep has come quickly and lasted well, into day four of my camping trip. Yesterday, I went to the house to gather more things, and cried for twenty minutes after getting two steps into our bedroom. She was staying with family, I texted her to suggest she go home to take care of the little furries, which she has done.
My sister seems to think I've squirreled myself away in "a hole", and doesn't seem to understand my aversion to the place I used to call home. I'm warm, dry, comfortable and fed, I have the things next-to-most important to me nearby, and I'm safe.
I know where I've gone wrong, I understand what I need to do, but have yet to really be able to accomplish any of the things between the covers of those books. I've done every one of the "don'ts" multiple times, and seem to be getting better at not doing it, but... we're board members of the men's and women's portions of the same fraternity, and we have to be in the same place or together no fewer than 3 nights a week. Every time I see her, I melt, every time we part I have to have a hug...
Help!!!
Oh, and I have a total ankle replacement scheduled for the end of March, set up before ILYBNILWY, that she insists she will still help me through my first weeks of recovery. I have a backup lined up, but still...
My story:
We were brought together by my little sister back in December 1977; I was returning home on leave from boot camp, she said that her best friend needed a date for a dance. I'd known her friend through the couple of years since she'd moved into the area and been friends with my sister, but never thought about her as anything more than an extra sibling. Anyway, the dance was a blast, we had a great time, and that was that.
I went off to various schools and assignments over the next couple of years, throughout which we wrote back and forth pretty consistently, me asking how school was going, etc. I'd take leave when I could, went home to be with her, then return to duty. Each time it was harder to get on the plane, and I soon realized just how good I felt with her.
In June 1979, I all but proposed in a letter; I told her I'd be home in July, with a few weeks of leave stacked up, and that I'd love to bring her back to Oahu with me as my bride. When I arrived home, bearing a second return ticket with her first and my last name on it, the girls went into "wedding now!" mode and put together a beautiful outdoor wedding at my parent's that I will carry with me forever. (Oh, Mom & Dad were just as much hers as mine by then.) To be honest, I have no idea when we first made love; it was not on our wedding night. We fell asleep exhausted in each others arms, and could have "tried each other on" the next morning. Dating had never progressed beyond heavy petting...
A three month honeymoon in Hawaii, four more years of service and the births of two wonderful children later, the time to rejoin the civilian world arrived. I asked where she would like to go, and she said "home", our roots in the Pacific Northwest, and I wholeheartedly agreed.
We've had our ups and downs, trials by fire and triumphant successes, and as far as I could tell, we were going to reach retirement and old age together.
Early December 2012, with both of us having reached 54, 33 years of marriage and 9 as "empty nesters" behind us, with meno and manopause happening almost simultaneously, ILYBNILWY has reared its ugly head. She didn't leave the house, but all intimacy stopped dead, the only conversations we had were utilitarian. She wouldn't talk about "us", my plea for counseling fell on deaf ears, and then one night I exploded...
I have never struck anyone since junior high, nor do I ever wish it to happen, and I believe she knows it, but I have the impression that I scared her to death that horrible night. I ranted and raved as she gathered things to leave, demanded the keys to our only car, the credit and debit cards for our joint accounts, and just being the most arrogant, blustering ass you can imagine times ten.
After the door slammed, the real me came out and I cried myself to sleep...
I found Michele's books the next morning, had them in my hands in the next few days, and read DB, DR and Sex-Starved Marriage (our biggest argument topic) in rapid succession, and multiple times.
Even then, the last 9 weeks have been difficult to say the least... I was left with full responsibility for our home, our felines, and the stuff we've gathered together, while she lives with friends and relatives. She's gotten a second job, making it two part-timers that still don't add up to much, she whines about being tired from all the hours, whines about not having any money, yet still tries to do the "her" things she did before leaving.
Being the breadwinner, I can easily keep our home and continue paying our debts, but I steadily grow more anxious about it all. I now resent where I am and what I'm stuck with, and have contemplated sending the felines off to family, locking the door behind me and giving it all up for the banks to squabble over, just to "serve her right" for leaving all of it and me behind.
As the weeks have gone by, my anxiety gathering, I've reached the point where just trying to sleep in "our" bed has become a nightmare. I'm on blood pressure medication (normal 120/80 before), a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, taking sleeping pills to get to sleep and who knows what next week's follow-up will bring.
I took an unplanned week vacation, loaded up the motor home, and parked myself in a safe place. Sleep has come quickly and lasted well, into day four of my camping trip. Yesterday, I went to the house to gather more things, and cried for twenty minutes after getting two steps into our bedroom. She was staying with family, I texted her to suggest she go home to take care of the little furries, which she has done.
My sister seems to think I've squirreled myself away in "a hole", and doesn't seem to understand my aversion to the place I used to call home. I'm warm, dry, comfortable and fed, I have the things next-to-most important to me nearby, and I'm safe.
I know where I've gone wrong, I understand what I need to do, but have yet to really be able to accomplish any of the things between the covers of those books. I've done every one of the "don'ts" multiple times, and seem to be getting better at not doing it, but... we're board members of the men's and women's portions of the same fraternity, and we have to be in the same place or together no fewer than 3 nights a week. Every time I see her, I melt, every time we part I have to have a hug...
Help!!!
Oh, and I have a total ankle replacement scheduled for the end of March, set up before ILYBNILWY, that she insists she will still help me through my first weeks of recovery. I have a backup lined up, but still...