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 24th 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 26th December. We spend 25th 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?!
