159: Coronavirus 2 - getting on my tits

A very poor title I know - and, actually, the issues are not big - but irritations continue.

This morning our son asks after his underwear as he can't find any. This is just a perennial issue. Because she has this weird system of washing or procrastinates and suddenly we are without underwear!

Yes, of course, I could do it. But, no, I am not allowed. Clearly, washing clothes is a highly skilled activity. Alongside loading and unloading the dishwasher and clearing the sink or folding clothes. To be fair, she does most of this because of our history where I would find myself doing a second shift after coming home and a few years ago she decided that the kitchen work and washing was her's - though I am still allowed to cook from time to time.

During normal days, though she was not working, she would delay and we'd be clearing up the kitchen gone 9:30 pm - this I no longer participate in and that is by mutual agreement. However, the effect is that we do not sit down together to watch a film or some TV as a family as she usually huffs and puffs her way upstairs towards 10 pm. She could do this earlier.

Now, during coronavirus there is even less to do. I have gone back to working and am busy all day but, even then, a little bit of time management and there is no reason why all can't be done by 8 pm and there should be no searching for underwear.

But, no. The same old, same old. Waste all day looking at Facebook, reading articles so she can pontificate, yakking with friends and not start any work before 7 pm - therefore, not finish before 10 pm.

Of course I am not allowed to say anything. And as I am in the 'at risk' category - BAME, over 50, male - she is in her element going to the shops to 'protect' me.

As ever, wouldn't mind laziness and procrastination if the standards our son and I were held to were different / consistent and she would not be so judgemental about others. But, hey ho … not so bad really.

158: Life in the time of the Coronavirus

5 weeks now, locked into a house. My freelance contract finished on 31^st March and so I’m ‘at-home’ rather than ‘working from home’. As she and I have been getting on reasonably well over the last few years, the atmosphere has been fine. She has been going to exercise classes regularly over the last couple of years and so we go out walking every other day and all is pleasant.

In fact, before the lockdown started towards the end of March 2020, she had been working as a freelance herself for about 3 weeks. And the assignment had clearly gone well – she had enjoyed her time and her colleagues, judging by the leaving card comments, clearly appreciated her work. All good to see.

It was ironic, though, that previously she had, without telling me, thrown away cards my friends/colleagues had presented me with. Her own card she displayed proudly on a shelf in the kitchen!!!

So, all good really but …. as she herself if very fond of pontificating to friends and relations on the phone, ‘a person’s character cannot change.’

I was reading this article which has a very nice paragraph: ‘One place to start is with vigilant attention to what we allow as normal. Do not permit small expressions of contempt. Anger, frustration, sadness, blame – yes, but never contempt. Keep contempt out of your home and you’ll have a difference in the kind – not just degree – of your fights and the curdled sprawls that ruin families. Don’t just take it in your stride when people speak to you in ways you don’t like – act surprised. Surprise marks clear edges around what we expect of our relationships, and communicating that “this isn’t normal” is often an effective way of communicating “it shouldn’t be”.’


As I have always done, I do my fair share of the cooking and cleaning – now that our cleaner cannot come, I do the bathrooms, she does the kitchen floor for example. I cook decently but am always told off for not using a recipe – though the outcome is usually ok. I prepare our son’s meals eight times out of ten. She wasn’t feeling very well and so I made the pizzas one lunchtime – and was told off for not using the ‘right’ passata. I am of course not competent enough to load the dishwashes ‘correctly’. I do ‘act surprised’ and make a jokey comment or two but do not react.

(But when one has been told in the past, ‘And you don’t exactly do great work. Aren’t you ashamed that you’ve not had a pay rise for five years? Anyone doing a proper job would not have so much time for friends. People go to work not for friends. Don’t kid yourself that you are in a serious job.’ - these are minor issues! Entry 61)

I am more concerned now about her behaviour with our son. It is much improved from before but whereas he leans into for a hug with me, he shies away from her. Generally, her conversations with him are instructions – ‘you haven’t’ done this or that or the other – or, worse, harangues. That is difficult for anyone to handle, let alone a 14-year-old. Particularly annoying is she herself is a procrastinator and a half-finisher of things which leaves papers and clothes strewn all over the place – the very things she accuses him of. I try and tread the line between being a parent and being fair to both, but I fear for the effect it may have on him – as I have pointed out to her. Entry 157 and Entry 149.

Overall, though, the environment has not been so bad and I pray that that continues. I ask him, ‘ who’s my baby?’, ‘who’s my hero?’ – I am, I am. But fights will happen and possibly they will affect me more than either of them – perhaps I am just being a snowflake.

157: Partial Return to the Bad Old Days

Minutae but important.

Weekday evening. Our son (now 14) is watching some football on TV. There is nothing else on.

At some point in the last month he has taken out an Amazon Prime subscription - free for one month. His mother wants to watch a film on there and asks for the password. Not an unreasonable request.

But they have been doing this faux, play fighting for a bit, have probably niggled each other and he starts being ansty - saying that she has been aggressive and that, in any case, (i) he has told her the password before and (ii) it is very easy to set up an account and get a free month's Prime.

This just goes on and on - each one being as stubborn as the other. Neither will give in. I try to persuade him but it will not happen.

My wife then, frankly, becomes a child. She says, 'ok, if you won't do this for me then you can iron your own clothes, go to school by bus, don't expect me to have your friends over, make your own school lunch.' She is incandescent with rage.

She huffs off to bed and I send him to his room - am upset and angry with both. He is crying. I ask him one last time. 'She knows what it is - it is my birthday.' I transmit this to her but it does not work; turns out he meant that he had written it in numbers whereas we thought it was in words.

Yes, he was being unreasonable but she must have irked him previously and for her to lose it completely was bizarre. She is 47, he is 14 - the reaction is beyond words.

He and I have had issues on occasion. If I have been wrong and lost my temper, I have apologised. If he has been in the wrong - for example, once when he kept repeating '5 minutes' when I was calling him for dinner - I have explained the situation in terms of the inconvenience, rudeness and irritation and he has responded positively.

My wife's irrational behaviour has happened before - Entry 68, Entry 55, - I wrote in Entry 71:

Let us hope you do not also lose our son.
 Do you know that on those evenings you go out with your friends, we have the most lovely time? A bit of work, dinner, a game or two and then quiet reading. Unlike the stress that exists when you are around.
Our son – unlike me – is a bounce-backer and in that sense more like you. He will take your punishment and then be as cheerful as before but how long will he carry on like that?
Do you note the times he asks why you have to scold him all the time? When his shoulders slump and his face becomes small at yet another harangue? When he is afraid as you stomp up the stairs? When I have had to take him to one side and, once, out for a drive just to calm him down? When after you have had a go at me, how he comes across and gives me a spontaneous hug?
How does someone become so angry and so hurtful to those she can cause the most damage to?

How?

And in Entry 53, I wondered if, Unlike me in my youth, I suspect he  will fight back and so she is well on the way to creating a difficult relationship.

I have suggested to her that she needs to be careful Entry 149, 'so, not in front of our son, I state clearly that what I remember most about my mother was her temper and her shouting and that if that is what she wants to leave as a legacy then 'carry on what you are doing.' 'That's between you and your mother. And our son is different from you.' 

She is right about the last point - I suspect he will fight back much more than I did!

Anyway, I go to bed and I am also on the verge of tears - such a harsh moment has not happened in quite a while. I worry about what I should do the next morning.

Previously, I might have been afraid, but this time I do the right thing. I iron his school clothes and ask him to get ready. I ask her whether she wants to make his lunch or should I? I expect a violent reaction from her and a continuation of the diatribe - I remain downstairs while they potter in the kitchen. She is clearly still upset but does not say anything - there is strained civility.

In the evening, I repeat to him that my mother also used to get angry and that , like mine, his mother can be unreasonable - so he should adjust a little, and I tell him that I have brought his mum's behaviour to her attention. He nods.

A week later now and the situation is back to peaceful and even.

In the past the drama would have carried on for days with wave upon wave of anger - not so this time; a minor blessing.

156: Looking back - a moment of reflection, with help from Primo Levi and others

Tomorrow - Tuesday - I have to go to a funeral. It is of a teacher at my old school. She joined as a new member of staff, fresh out of university I would imagine, just as I was coming to the end of my school days. She never taught me but we played badminton together, were Facebook friends and caught up from time to time at school events - she became the Head later. Her husband was my PE teacher and they both came to my wedding reception in London. She passed away at 56, I am 51.

In the same town as the crematorium lives my first professional boss, D. - someone I admired very much. Fresh out of university he was my line manager. But we lost touch over the years and a mutual friend got me his number. So, I contacted him via WhatsApp and we are meeting after what must be more than a decade and a half.

I began to wonder how I might sum up my adult life for D.. Even in broad themes, there are positives and negatives.

Negatives
I had a great start to my professional career - following graduation. The details are unimportant but I gained rapid promotion, delivered sales (after a stuttering start), gained expatriate positions and worked for the CEO of a US$15b organisation by 32. Ready for the next leap!

Then my bosses were fired. I was initially offered a global role and a contract was promised 'by the end of the week' by the global head of HR. But someone apparently 'lobbied' against me and I was shafted and made redundant.

This blew my career and I had to start again. It robbed me of confidence. It robbed me of faith - that doing the right things gain their reward, which had been the case to that point.

On the personal front, I got married in 1999 at a time when things were going well professionally and I felt I was ready to share my life and grow with a partner. We moved from the UK to India and then France and life was exciting. We had a baby in 2005.

Things were never great - Entry 155 - but I did my best as a husband and father. Then, after / despite many years of taking shit, was finally told in 2015 that I was ' incompetent, weird, a tramp, uncaring, selfish, impotent, shameful, useless, callous and a pervert ' - an utter failure in every way.

So .... professionally and personally, do the right things and get shafted - or looking at it conversely, be a failure.

The third great theme in my life has been my son. He has been put upon and I often worry about the effect on him - just as I had a very angry mother in my childhood. He is my life and I try to support, apologise if I get angry ... I suspect his actions were fundamental in the dramatic turnaround of our marriage but will I fail him as well?

I should add there has been a fourth theme in my life and that is my friends and, on the same level, my cousin in the US - who have supported  me, shown me affection and chosen to see the best of me. I hope I retain that love and do nothing to destroy the bonds.

Positives

People say - in any walk of life - that it is important to 'enjoy the process' because the conclusions are open to so many variables. So, top sportspeople will opine that the result is secondary to the process - that 'the journey' is the value. I wonder and question if that is true but accept the premise that just relying on the result is to, potentially, do yourself down and that trying for the best is the real quest.

In ordinary life, the summits of 'success' are lower. And so, if, in my negatives, I have failed ultimately, have I 'succeeded' in the journey?

Well, we are all healthy but that is down to luck and genes. I have made materially useful and positive contributions to the businesses I have worked for. I have lived and negotiated in various countries and enjoyed a good proportion of my professional life. Financially, we have been sound though not at all extravagantly rich  - nice places to stay, holidays, little bar on spend, good private school.

Having been shafted early in my career, I let work take a back seat and have been very fortunate in being able to be the 'dad' that I wanted to be  while still being able to support a reasonable standard of life.

I have a valued set of friends. I enjoy sport and try to look after myself. Life has given me a lot and I am very grateful. And I would not, for the world, change the experience that I have had with my son. He is 14 now and I say to him, 'who is my love?', 'who is my hero?', 'who is my life?', 'who is my reason for living?' and he responds, 'I am', 'I am', 'I am', 'I am.' 

Conclusions

So there are a lot of positives, but am I left with the feeling - to quote a poem that my brother put up on Facebook - that I am the 'god of small things'?

She stood still behind the metal fence as he approached

As still as one made of alabaster or marble
Dusty white with a dishevelled mane
Not a muscle twitched or an ear flicked
She waited and watched with her big grey eyes.

Surely it could not be because she remembered
How on a snowy dark dawn he had wandered past and looked at her
And had regretted not having had an apple to give
He wondered on the finiteness of memory
As carefully he edged close.

‘I am tired’, he whispered, as he touched her forehead
‘Of being the god of small things.
The light bulb fixed or the zipper mended
The car serviced or the insurance paid or the passport renewed.
I am tired of not being able to deal with the mind.’

She reared her head slightly, as if to understand,
Then nuzzled closer and her warm breath sniffed his coat
As if to ask if food lay concealed. A gentle recognition among fellow beings.
‘I am tired of not knowing where giving becomes taking
Where love ends and pain begins, where more is less and the world is too fractured to understand.
I think I will give up soon. But I promise to bring you an apple before I go.’

Yes, this may be the case.

I am tired, that is clear,
Because, at a certain stage, people have to be tired.
Of what I am tired, I don't know:
It would not serve me at all to know
Since the tiredness stays just the same.
The wound hurts as it hurts
And not in function of the cause that produced it.
Yes, I am tired,

Fernando Pessoa

And, yet, I must remember:

Resonance: So many times I have had this debate with myself and with her. Entry 141, Entry 21

You who live safe

In your warm houses;
You who find on returning in the evening
Hot food and friendly faces:

Consider if this is a man
Who works in the mud
Who knows no peace
Who fights for a bit of bread
Who dies because of a yes and because of a no

Consider if this is a woman,
Without hair and without name
Without enough strength to remember
Vacant eyes and cold womb
Like a frog in the winter:

Reflect on the fact that this has happened:
These words I commend to you:
Inscribe them on your heart
When staying at home and going out,

Going to bed and rising up;
Repeat them to your children:
Or may your house fall down,
Illness bar your way,
Your loved ones turn away from you.

- Primo Levi


And be grateful for what I have received:

Resonance: Wow!! 'Kindness' as granted by friends and my son (Entry 114).

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

From Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. Copyright © 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye.

(poems courtesy of my brother and sister-in-law)

155: History - when will she burp again?

March 2016 – a letter drafted for my parents and in-laws that was never sent as we moved back from the brink of divorce. Recently I found this again while sifting through old files and thought I would put on here.

From Julian Barnes again, read almost three decades ago, a memory came back from his History of the World book about ‘History as a burp’. Finding this letter reminded me of that quote. I looked it up, ‘history just burps, and we taste again that raw onion sandwich it swallowed centuries ago.’ At this point (2019) in our lives, that burp is still under wraps but when will it rise?!

Dear Parents and Parents-in-law

I am pretty sure I will be seen as the ‘bad’ person in all this. You, my mother, will possibly say that this is me in one of his ‘suddenly Vesuvius erupts’ moments!

I may be wrong in what I am doing. But, the word ‘divorce’ came from M. first and this is far from an issue of ‘a moment.’ I hope all of you care for me enough to believe that I am patient, that I give situations time, work hard at circumstances and think deeply about them. Further, that I have some level of sincerity and generosity in my actions, with the ability to put myself second when needed. But I cannot demean myself forever.

Where I/we have got to in our marriage is clearly not where I envisaged us being. In the last few years, as the situation has steadily worsened, I’ve told myself that I need to keep going. But, to go on as before is no longer possible for me. I cannot take the anger, the control and the humiliation that continually come my way. Over the course of our marriage I have rarely answered back, I have never exerted any sort of control, been supportive and never questioned her qualities – so it is not as if M. is simply responding to an environment of hostility.

At 47 I am too old to go to bed crying at harsh words I have been subjected to, too old to worry about what I will find when I get home from work, too old to be concerned about and question virtually every action for fear of upsetting her. I would ask you to trust me when I say that I am at the end of my tether or I would not have taken up M.’s mention of the word ‘divorce.’

But let’s move on. All that I’ve written so far is general and I prefer to work with examples. You are all used to reading and digesting written material and so I have allowed myself some space.

The Early Years: 1999 – 2005

An inkling of what was to come arrived very early – around A.’s birthday in 1999, a few days after our marriage. M. knew how close I was to A.'s. family; if she had had an objection to that, she should not have agreed to marry me. We were invited to A.’s birthday, T. and I went over. M. feigned tiredness – possibly genuinely – but made an issue, in no uncertain terms, of my going, as if I were letting her down.

We move to England. At 123 (my parents' house) my sister in law makes some sort of comment about not using the ‘good’ cutlery every day. ‘I will use what I want, when I want. I don’t need to listen to her.’ Not that I had suggested taking G.’s advice anyway! So starts a campaign of how my parents favour G. over her, how I ignore M. when at 123 and it descended to the point of using the word ‘hate’ with reference to G.; I still have the letter which reminded me of this, so I am  not making it up. All of that may have abated by now but I used to be on tenterhooks whenever we visited and it was a blessing that we all lived in different countries for many years.

Other points. A cup – with Friends written on it – that my housemate, P., had presented me with was disposed of. A tea coaster – harking back to a humorous incident – bought for me by my cousin was thrown away. (The other coasters in the pack which I had shared around with friends as a remembrance of the incident stayed with them for many years!) I negotiated with my company so M. could accompany me to Mannheim, Brussels and the US but there was drama about not buying her flowers.

So then we move to Delhi and one would think that all should be at peace. Far from it.

(On a ‘good note’, though, in the ‘A. incident’ in Delhi in 2000, M. did nothing wrong and I did not hesitate to cut off a childhood relationship as I believed the S.’s to have behaved incorrectly.)

My cousin (Mi.) and her partner (W.) came to visit from the US. First, there was anger that I accompanied them to shops when I had shown a marked antipathy to shopping with M. – ‘he loves you more than he loves me.’ (I had been to shops – lots of them – in Delhi with M. but, yes, going every week-end was not a fun thing to do.) But to go to the shops with someone I see every four years or so is justifiable as I was not shopping but spending time with someone I value. Then the anger escalated as Mi. used ‘too many towels’ and marked some of them badly. The visit culminated in my not being allowed to go to the airport to see them off even though that was the trip that Mi.’s mother committed suicide. Just as M. remembers the towels, so Mi. remembers the coldness in a moment of pain and crisis.

I remember there was drama about the furniture, drama at her work. Once or twice every month there would be an upset about something and I would be told off. We were living a life that was extremely privileged but nothing seemed to please her. This would be a recurring theme.

We move to Paris. Now, looking back, she loves her time there. But, at the time, being unable to work, there was periodic tension. I understood even then, though, that, for M., the concept and rewards of work came before the actual effort. I negotiated some help for her and she got a contract at CNRS. Did she make any particular effort to work well? No, and the contract was not renewed. (More of work later.) So, within a year, I had gone to my CEO and asked for a move to India or UK, in order to support M.’s ambitions. He cut me off almost immediately, though I struggled on for another year and a half in the company.

In the meantime, of course, I am doing the hoovering, cleaning the toilets, ironing and sharing the cooking. At no point am I asking M. to be the ‘traditional’ housewife. (Please remember this for later.)

In 2002 (or 03), we went to the US for Mi.’s and W.’s engagement. There, apparently, Mi. hugged me more deeply than she did M., this angered her and so I had to sit next to M. all evening rather than enjoying myself with other people.

I do not remember particular incidents from 2004-05. She was working, we went out a lot, G. and my brother were in Italy, I had withdrawn from Mi. Then M. suggested having a baby. I understood, possibly better than her, the implications of this, particularly for the lower earning partner in terms of a career hit. Did she understand what a baby actually meant? ‘Yes,’ she said.

The Middle Years: 2005 – 2011

We do not move to South Africa where I was offered a senior role – we stay on in England for a better environment overall for the family. We buy an apartment about as far away from my parents as possible as M. does not want ‘interference.’ 

And the first couple of years are fine-ish. We are both enraptured with our son, M. spends good chunks of time in Kolkata, I am working to earn enough but also being entirely supportive at home. Yes, there are bursts of anger, like there always have been, but I put my head down and carry on. I remember joining the Residents’ Committee where we lived – mainly to make some contacts. Even one meeting a quarter and there is drama at home and so it must have been that I come home every evening and support her as I should. Until we get a cleaner, bathrooms, hoovering, ironing continue to be my chores – and I do not mind. I do the night feeds, I look after our son on the week-ends – and it is my luck and privilege to do.

In 2009 we move to a house near the school – close enough to be a short walking distance which is a critical criterion as she does not drive at that point. It is not a house that we might have aspired to but we add a bedroom. It is in the period 2009 to 2011 that the situation goes from neutral to bad.

Sixteen of the eighteen mothers at the school nursery do not work – the ratio is probably the opposite now. M. decides not to either. Having suggested that maybe she should look for work and been rebuked strongly, I stop suggesting. I work at work and work at home. Shopping is generally done after picking up our son from school. Cooking for us does not start till six or seven. I often come home to piles of bags in the hallway. A common routine is for me to make our son’s dinner, take him up to bed, read him a couple of stories, come downstairs, clean up, wash up after dinner and not finish till nine or later. When the ironing piles up – as it always does – I get on the job. Once more, I don’t mind. It is the little things, I believe, that show support. I am earning pretty well but my whole focus is to be a supportive husband and a hands-on father. Was that wrong?

2011 comes and anger is almost permanent. Being made to feel small about something is a weekly occurrence and I find myself crying in bed. M.’s cousin is with us for several weeks and this is a relief. But M. hardly speaks to me from the start of the year to when she goes off to India. The week-ends are also stressful. We have to do ‘something’ but I am never sure what that might be. Truth is, neither does she. She also begins to look after homework and every Sunday morning is a drama – for a five year old’s homework!! Things only improve when we go to Venice in October and particularly after the purchase of a spectacularly expensive handbag.

The Last Years: 2011-2015

In all this while, work is no holiday. I keep my job through two redundancy rounds, I maintain a very good salary, we continue to go on multiple holidays, there is no bar on spending. But life at home is still a nightmare. And I see myself taking my anger out on our son rather than being direct towards M. This, I realise, is unfair.

Now that our son is in full time education – and has been for a while – and M. still does not appear to want to return to employment, should she not do more of the work or at least be more organised? I don’t reduce support but I do start some activities on my own. I start swimming, I join the gym, start writing a blog when, previously, I had gotten my frustrations out on scrappy bits of paper. This gives me some relief.

The situation reaches a nadir towards the end of 2012. We go to Spain, Malaga. The first three days are beautiful – ‘say thank you to your father for a lovely holiday.’ Then we go to the mountains and it rains and rains and rains – and it is my fault. The hotel is 5* - liked in prospect but hated in retrospect. On the last day our son is unwell and I say, ‘just order something from the hotel menu.’ Admittedly, this is unreasonably expensive. M.’s face is like thunder for the next few weeks until even I am compelled to ask, ‘why?’ ‘You did not object to the hotel food which was expensive but we never go out.’ And many other things. I do not react but write her a letter starting with, ‘Thank you for your outburst on Sunday night. I was wondering if I ought just to move on and hope things improve but, clearly, that is not going to happen. You have accused me of being callous and, actually, not a very nice person.’

I suggest that I have never, ever objected to going out. That it has been her decision to live 180 degrees away from my parents, never to use a babysitter. It has been her decision not to go to work. And that there are repercussions to all of those – such as not going out often and being at home most of the day, particularly without hobbies.

In early 2013, though, another expensive handbag and a holiday in Marrakech. I had offered a party for friends for her 40th or theatre or something but was told ‘no’. But, though in Marrakech already, we did not go out to a non-resort restaurant on the 6th – this turns out to be a huge mistake. 2013 is a very average year – we do not talk much, anger is semi-permanent. I look back at my blog and I am saying things like, ‘I know I should let this just wash over me. I know that I must not be disturbed by it all. But I can't. I care. I try to do the right things but all I get is a set of harsh returns.

‘Am very tired and do not know what to do. I have tried explanation, have tried logic, have tried acceptance and ignoring but nothing works.’

In 2014 I really thought we had turned a corner. We bought the big house, it was her choice and I could see M. being visibly happy. But it wasn’t to last. On a Monday we were to fly to the US for two weeks. I was moving from one department to another and so my old team had planned an evening out for the previous Thursday. My new team was going out on the Wednesday and I thought it would be politic to join them. I ask permission. She says ‘yes’ but then I get a phone call on some spurious pretext and am told to come home. ‘And you have to be home early tomorrow.’ So I end up leaving my own leaving party early. (I then look back at my diary and I’ve been out six times in the year and for two of them M. would have joined me had she not been in India. Is that a lot?)

In December (2014) work is really stressful. Also, she has specifically stated that she does not want a handbag and in each of the Christmas’ past, my present has been returned and others picked up in the sales. This time, then, I am not too stressed about not being able to get to the shops before the 24^th and she does not get anything she likes by Christmas day – I figure that the sales are there. Turns out to be HUGE problem. I should have got something, anything, just so long as it was expensive. Treating her as an adult had been a mistake. She essentially stops talking to me.

She has got a couple of free tickets for a film on the 26^th December. We spend 25^th at Oxford at my brother’s and our son is tired and wants to watch a DVD at home rather than go to the cinema. ‘If you don’t go this evening, you’ll never be allowed to see this film.’ So, a tired nine year old has to go to an 8:30 pm show.

2015 has undoubtedly been our worst year yet. Expensive shoes in January do not improve the situation and it is clear that we are in trouble. As a release, I have confided in a friend but I lie about this to M. when she asks if I have spoken about our marriage to anyone. This friend is a woman, one of my old team and a number of pictures exist of her and me on Facebook at various parties – along with other team members. M. is convinced that I am having an affair with the lady – particularly when she finds an e-mail and a Facebook exchange where it is obvious that I have lied about confiding. I am told to remove all photographs from the computer and Facebook – this I do. I state categorically that I have not had an affair but that I will not give up my friends. M. examines my phone bill and sees that I’ve had a 25 minute phone call with my friend. ‘She has been ill,’ I say and, ‘I never said I would give up my friends.’ If I had had anything to hide, would I not have used the work phone?! ‘Choose between your friend or your son and me.’ ‘That is not a valid choice. She is a friend, that is all.’ ‘I hope she dies, with whatever her illness is.’

In August I book theatre tickets and tea at the Dorchester but am told that the spend of about £250 is ‘cheap’ as I have not bought a present separately.

We go to Prague for a week. That goes well overall but she is unhappy because on a couple of occasions I am unable to perform sexually. I go to the doctor and my blood results show marginally low testosterone. ‘When we got married, why didn’t you tell me you were impotent?’ ‘No wonder your friend’s brother thought you were gay.’ ‘This explains why when normal men were chasing women, you were writing letters. How weird is that.’

Then come further arrows. ‘Aren’t you ashamed you haven’t had a pay rise in five years?’ ‘Those who have real jobs don’t have time for friends.’

Have I provided such a bad life for your daughter (in-law) that I am spoken to like this? Yes, I have friends and need them but I have never neglected my family and have supported M. and our son to the best of my ability. I will say it, I deserve better than this.

Finally has come December 2015. My old team had a Christmas party, someone else took a picture of my friend and me – along with another close friend by the way, so there were three of us in the picture. This somehow ended up in my pictures on my phone. She found it when I left the phone at home one day, and asked for a divorce when I got back from work. I thought about it for a couple of days and then said, ‘ok’, but it would have to be an informal separation if we wanted to maintain our son’s schooling and general lifestyle.

Truly, I cannot take her anger any more. I might have been deficient in buying presents but I believe I have been a fully supportive husband. This is a miserable existence, has been for a long while. I will not be a slave. I have had enough. Not least because my attention, in the midst of all this drama, has to be on doing well and earning a living.

I have presented you so far with a chronological letter. Re-reading it does not convey the weight of carrying so much stress and anger; you have to live with it I suppose. But, there are also general themes and all of these I have shared with M. over the years – but it has made no difference.

Time Management

M. has a trouble free child and a low maintenance husband. Before our son, I generally did the cleaning, ironing etc but we’ve had a cleaner for ten years or more now. Yes, I’ve pulled back from cooking – partly under instruction – but would still help cleaning up, I do my own ironing, and often our son’s if things piled up, and I clean the toilets if the cleaner is on a break.

M. usually shops only after school, cooks only in the evening, does the washing after dinner, makes our son’s school lunch – even if it involves a bit of cooking – in the morning and not the previous evening. Which means that even with my help she would not finish till 9:30 or 10 pm and then no wonder she is stressed. Why not use the day more effectively?

My theory? Routine bores her. She is excellent at ‘special projects’ but has to create a drama to get the boring work done. This belief that she is over-worked is tiring as the stress comes out on both our son and me.

Anger and Control

Where does this anger come form? It is certainly not visible to outsiders who see the charming side of M. She speaks to me like a haranguing madam would to a servant or as she talks to call-centre people – people, perhaps, who cannot answer back. Maybe I deserve it but last summer I came home five days’ running to a crying son. Does our angel of a child deserve that? Swathes of anger flood down the stairs and our son puts his head in my chest and waits for the rush to slow down. 

‘You didn’t shampoo well at all.’ ‘I did.’ ‘No, you didn’t.’ ‘But I did.’ Ultimately, I showed her a picture of his head full of shampoo – I had taken a photo because I knew this would happen.

Double Standards

M. is not the cleanest or tidiest person. Beds generally only get made on the days the cleaner (or some other person) is coming. So why do different standards apply to our son and me? The other evening, he was reading in bed and, admittedly, did delay in getting out to go and brush his teeth. ‘I have to make your bed, like I have to do everything. You have to do as I say – now, go.’ All in that strident voice. This is at 9 o’clock in the evening – the bed could not have been made earlier in the day? Anything we do wrong and the world explodes, anything she does and it is not so much of a problem.

The Tragedy

M. has had the full ‘freedom’ that she should expect in a modern relationship. (I use the word 'freedom' with hesitancy because that is a right for both and not a gift from either but you know what I mean - I do not fight, make no demands and ask no favours.) In addition to freedom, she has also had support. She has intelligence, she can be charming and, when she wants to be, organised and competent. But she has declined to take advantage of her abilities – whether natural or acquired. That has been her choice.

There are other themes which I could go into – being hugely judgemental, a complete inability to be content, a sense of entitlement – but I am growing tired. So, let me finish with the issues that M. will talk about most when she speaks to you. The Affair (that never was) and gifts.

The Affair – but there is an historical pattern

Considerable anguish has been around through 2015 because M. was convinced that I had been, or possibly still was having, an affair with a work colleague and friend. I had indeed confided in this person but I have never had an affair. Never propositioned, never been propositioned.

But, you know, this is part of a pattern, particularly with any women close to me. G., Mi., Ch., Ph., Em., Tr., So., Bi. – everyone has something wrong with them, from being spoilt to provincial to boring to evil. I stepped away from my friends for many years just to avoid aggravation.

Ch. had a daughter, Chl.. I was very proud to be made her Godfather – particularly as Ch. and her husband are committed Christians. ‘You bought a voucher for Chl.. You never buy anything for our son.’  (Not true.) So, to my shame, I stepped away from my god-daughter, just to avoid tension.

And, even general friends, male or female, they all get a rough ride. ‘I have nothing in common with them.’ It is only Te. and To. whom she would consider to be worth anything at all and even Te. has probably gone down in her estimation as he has let work take very much a back seat in his life.

She also said that I would leave and attempt to disinherit her and our son by starting a new family. We are in the process of writing out a formal will – which is sensible enough. But, of all her accusations, that I would disadvantage my son was the harshest cut. Even if she does not think that I have done much for her, can she say that I have neglected our son?

Presents and Appreciation

These appear to be the biggest complaints – that I do not appreciate her and do not care to buy presents. I am not good at complimenting and ‘special’ days, it is true, do not mean much to me. And, in the early days, I did buy presents but dresses were returned and jewellery stays in a vault. I have offered presents but been met with a 'no'. Lately I have started buying expensive handbags and things and they are returned and swapped for other items - fine by me. So, the accusation is partly unjustified but, yes, it is true that I am not a big respecter of 'special days'. In any case, £250 for dinner and a show is 'not enough' - so I can't win really.

I may have been wrong in this but my philosophy has been that it is in supporting at home that I have been able to show appreciation. And, over the years, I have gotten better at buying presents as that is important for her. But I have never controlled spend in any way and ‘retail as recreation’ is what she has always done; it is not as if purchases are restricted to particular days.

So…..where do we go with all this?

We have seen in both our families and at very close quarters, what happens when we ‘sacrifice’ and bottle up; the water builds up and up until the dam bursts. I have painted one picture of our lives. M. would and will describe an alternative version with just as much justification, conviction and truth. I am not interested in ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. I can look myself in the eye and know that I have tried my best – that is all that matters to me. The only person in the future I will have to justify myself to will be our son.

It is clear to me that we are only together for the sake of our son. If M.’s words are to be believed, then I am incompetent, weird, a tramp, uncaring, selfish, impotent, shameful, useless, callous and a pervert ... and much, much more - a failure in every respect. Why should she want to share her life with someone like that? Conversely, why would I want to share my life with someone who thinks of me in that fashion?

But we cannot live apart because to do so would have a marked negative effect on our son’s life. It is certain that we would have to give up the house, share custody and take him out of private school. I do not think that is fair. Hence I have suggested that we separate but continue to live in the same house – if necessary, we could also divorce but share the house until he is an adult. I cannot bear thinking about living apart from our son and I am sure neither could he as we are very close.

Maybe things will become unbearable but, for the sake of our son, we should try to make it work.

_{Entry update:}

Since then there has been the Dramatic Turnaround and I have wondered about the reason. Life has been pretty peaceful and at times even fun. But, when does the burp come?!

154: A Little Strange

I may be going way off-beam here but let's put it down anyway.

It was her birthday yesterday. Our son's school has not opened as yet after the Christmas holidays and so we agreed that we would go today (7th Jan) instead to a posh restaurant in town.

3 full weeks of holiday and shirts and trousers were not ironed for the return to school. I am half-way through the ironing when she realises what I am doing and shouts out, 'I will do that. You will not do my work - only if I ask you to. You are only doing this because you think me incapable.'

I don't - was simply trying to be helpful.

'You musn't think that you can't go for assignments out of town - that you have to be here for us. We are perfectly capable.'

I haven't turned down assignments and now that our son is 14 I would happily go away on consulting jobs during the week.

'Who packed away P.'s (our son) sleeping bag?' He did.

'You wouldn't have been able to anyway!' So, why ask the question?

'Because you keep doing our work.' [What I didn't say in response - yes, well, sorry to be helpful!]

This does not negate the fact that in the past I would only need to be out of the house a couple of evenings in the week and there would be drama. And for many years I would end up doing two shifts during the week and a significant amount of work on the weekends - Entry 47    Entry 43

(eg Entry 2 and this extract from Entry 21)

Presents and Support

In the past, every time I have bought a present, it has not been liked. Dress – you asked me not to buy any in the future; jewellery and watch – which we bought together – in a vault; handbag – returned and changed; flowers – you have specifically told me not to buy; spa – again, you have said you don’t want. A break on your own? Again, no. So, what is left, given that you do not have any particular interests / hobbies? Lingerie? A special meal with your friends for your 40^th? No. We did buy the Mac specifically for you. However, if those ‘nos’ were really ‘yes’ then I’m sorry.

I can go back to buying presents and I had intended to anyway. Ask this, though, of your friends. Flowers on Valentine’s Day and breakfast and a lie-in on Mother’s Day sure but .... Always doing the night shift with the baby? Me. Sleeping with him when he is ill? Me. Lying in most week-ends to 10 at least? You. Going downstairs at 1:30 am every night for six / nine months? Me. Doing hours and hours of ironing when the pile gets too much? Mostly me. In the early years, cleaning toilets, hoovering? Me. Cleaning your pubic hair from the shower and period blood from the toilet? Me. (I had left a streak for you which you have removed I saw). For a while, I would come home and even have to prepare our son's food some evenings.

You may say that you never asked for this support. Trust me. If I had to work late three evenings in a row there would be stress at home and I would be the bad guy. It got to the point where I was working at the office (which is no holiday by the way) and then starting a substantial second shift at home – which would last till 9pm. I decided that this was not fair – particularly as our son has been full time in school since 2009. So I decided to go swimming and have gradually pulled back from the cooking and washing up. If you want me to go back to it, tell me

So, I don't know. I feel as if that, while everything appears to be fine, there is some frustration building. She is always sweetness and light to external people and much of her misery and anger would come out on us. Now that she is being careful about that aspect, and treating us with less contempt, I wonder if she is holding too much in.

There is a manic aspect to her cheeriness .... or am I just over-imagining?

153: Happy New Year 2020

So, here we are  at the start of a new decade.

If I live, by 2030 I will have started my 60s. Will I be comfortably off? Will I be healthy?

My son - if he's gone to university - will be reaching the end of that and, hopefully, continuing on a satisfying and happy life with love and friends.

Way, way back - must have been 1998 or 1997 - before I was married or even considering being so, I was in an airport lounge and hoped that I would be a 'present' father and supportive husband - ie not always on a plane and sacrificing the home for the career.

'Sacrificing' is the wrong word actually because it has negative connotations. It suggests that what has transpired for me is the 'better' way - that is not what I mean at all. Genuinely - each to their own and luck and circumstance have such big hands to play.

What has indeed happened is that I have been able to be the father that I wanted - at least in terms of presence at home and reading stories and cuddles and school events and so much more. I believe my son and I have a good relationship and I pray that that continues.

I have clearly not been the husband that I would have wanted. Physically I believe I have done more than many others in terms of support in the home and my wife has had no binds on her actions because of me or my work. But that has not proved good enough. And I cannot forget all that was said and the years of torture before.

In 1998, philosophically, that was a bold wish, but much of it came through - even if the consequences have not been what they might be!

What do I wish for the next major period as I work through my fifties?

I did not have this diary then and so is it more of an issue to write something down?!

In reality, while I thought it would be, it is not difficult to put down what I wish for.

So, while I will always want to continue to support the family as necessary and have the emotional and material ability to do so, by then I do want my independence.