The Things That Happen in Book Five: Working Through the Maze 2018

This is going to be somewhat difficult to write. Partially because I have so much I want to say. Partially because I want to talk about events, emotions, myself and my Wife. Partially because I know the part at the end where I get really honest will (1) make me look bad; (2) piss people off; (3) seem insensitive and cruel.

First thing’s first, though. Bit of a recap, I suppose.

Friday has been discussed but I’ll write the brief summary of the day leading to the parts I did not write on. Friday morning Wife calls me to bring her cell phone to her, I bring her cell phone to her but she is a sobbing wreck freaking out about the job, I try to give as much support as I can before I head to work, Wife calls me 90 minutes later saying she can’t take it anymore and (with her boss’ permission) leaves work. She goes straight to my parents’ place to seek shelter and solace. I stay at work dealing with psycho-demanding Chinese Boss and literal criminals. Half-way through my day, I receive a phone call from Wife saying she isn’t going back to her job. She’s tired of living in fear and dealing with so much anxiety. After I speak, she freaks out in an even larger wreck because she can hear agitation and disappointment in my voice. Of course there is. I agonize for months about leaving a toxic job that doesn’t pay well, punishes me for taking sick leave, and rakes me across the coals for things entirely out of my control. She goes from starting a new job to announcing she’s quitting in less than 5 days and it is a job that pays good money and is an introduction to the kind of job she wants to be doing.

After I left my work, I went to my parents’ place. Wife was curled up in three blankets watching movies on her phone. My mom had taken good care of her. But the fact remained. Had she done anything that day to actually DEAL with what is going on, or did she just run. Again. Like always. Apparently the answer is: she called her mom to discuss the issue, and she and her mom both cried. She called her therapist and they discussed how clearly this the anxiety, and hyper-focusing on self is what is the primary underlying issue they need to work on. Aaaaand, that was her day of “dealing.” That was all she could “think to do or had the energy to do.”

Because we’d already been invited, and because another full day of her just sitting on a couch either thinking exclusively about herself or escaping via television was just NOT acceptable to me, I was excited to get her out with friends on Saturday. Especially because these two are the type of friends that she should be talking to about her shit. On the one hand, you have a friend that has massive anxiety and depression. On the other hand, you have a friend with massive depression and suffered from anxiety until he came out. These are the people to talk to. And both of them said… you either need to medicate or get it into your head that the anxiety isn’t based on conditional circumstances like “job” or “mood.” Running from the job doesn’t take care of the anxiety. Etcetera. We were there for about 5 hours. She was fairly okay for the first 4, then had to fall into television zombie mode.

Sunday I’ll be writing about in a few places here. But for now, this is just the News and Report version. Sunday was Palm Sunday and my parents are head ushers on the usher team at church. Our small, quaint little parish has become a gi-normous Mega Church in the twenty-one years since I started attending. So I knew that they would need help! Wife even offered to assist as well, so I was hoping that was a sign that she was realizing “Focusing on serving others” is a way to stop “Obsessively focusing on yourself.”

After church, we went back to Mom and Dad’s where Rocky (parents’ golden retriever) Ole (brother’s great Pyrenees), brother, SIL, and niece already were. I was starting to feel oogey, though. I hadn’t eaten since Saturday Afternoon, hadn’t had anything but juice or soda in too long, and hadn’t slept well the night before (due to all the stress Wife is going through bleeding over to me). So I ate a slice of pizza, two glasses of water and when Niece went down for her nap, I took a nap as well. Meanwhile, Wife went with Bro and SIL to shop for bro’s new laptop. I woke up… a bit later. I felt much better after waking up. Wife was already back in her own head. So… no playing with Niece to re-focus. No helping in the kitchen with Mom and SIL. No joining the nature discussion with Dad and Bro. Just… her. In her head again. Luckily, Dad found an old hidden box of Legos and that helped Wife a bit. First, she got to experience what it was like for me growing up. You see, my brother is an incredibly gifted and talented artist that has never had a thought NOT become something. Whether clay or photos or pastels or charcoals or pencils or paints or Legos… if he had an idea he wanted to bring into reality, it was brought into reality. So, while Wife was trying to find pieces that went together (color, size, etc)… Bro created a large Lego starship from random assorted pieces that had a working cockpit hatch, two missile canopies and communications gear. Second, she got to participate in life with other people and spend some time with Niece. Though, it is funny. Wife didn’t build anything. She was trying to put all the little Lego people back together. Arms, hands, legs, heads, hair/hats. She just wanted each little Lego person to be as complete as possible. While her intention was clearly not obvious to her; the psychological symbolism of her dedicated act spoke volumes.

After the parents’ we went home. She had admitted not being sure if she was going to quit or not. But that she had so many appointments now because of the car accident (she was diagnosed with Whiplash making the arthritis in her neck an even bigger deal) and mental care (how many appointments will she have/can she have per week) that she wasn’t sure if she could keep a job that asked her to work from 7:30 to 4:30. But either way, we’d need insurance of some kind, so I was asked to look through the Marketplace. While I was doing that and asking her questions for information that I needed… she had another total freak out panic attack. And I went the tough love route. I told her quite pointedly that if she leaves this job, all she’ll be doing is running away from the stress. Again. And if she keeps running from the stress, it will continue to grow. So that the next job she tries? The stress will be even worse. And worse. And worse. That she either needs to deal with it or get defeated by it because running is giving it power. Of course, this subjected me to a loud ranting tirade (better angry than afraid, I guess) where she raised her voice so loud, I honestly thought the neighbors would intervene. But… I’m an attorney. I’m an attorney that works for crazy Chinese lady and have been involved in Criminal Law (in one form or another) since 2012. An unhinged woman shrieking at me is just part of my existence.

After about twenty minutes of silence, Wife said she’d made up her mind. She’d go ahead with it and consider it her test. I asked for clarification and she blew up again. I reminded her that her explosive outbursts earlier didn’t exactly make me feel heard; so the fact that she was basing the “test” idea off of my comments wasn’t as logical an assumption as she had thought. But that was her decision last night. That she knows if she leaves this job, she won’t be motivated to fix her stress and anxiety. She realized that she wouldn’t work on things if she didn’t have such a powerful issue. I did not comment on this out of respect. Because, as is likely obvious by long-time readers, this anxiety and stress is pretty much what keeps threatening/ruining our marriage. But if she finds this job item proper motivation, good for her. I hope she can survive herself and keep going. But we’ll see. I’ll likely have updates on this whole rolling mess throughout the day.

Though… the big “Celebration Event” that we’d planned for the end of this week? Going to Omaha, seeing the movie she’s most excited about, going to her favorite bar? She said it is already too bad that she isn’t going to enjoy herself at all, since she’ll be too stressed and upset because of this week. So… yeah. Week hadn’t even started and she’s already planning on and anticipating that her week is going to be awful and completely ruin the weekend to come.

Now to write the part that may upset people. I often preface things of this nature that way and I’d like to take a moment to explain why. I was on OpenDiary as early as 2000. I had an OpenDiary (off and on, under many many different names) until the site was closed down circa 2014. Almost the entire time I was in college and maintained an OpenDiary account (2002 to 2004), any time I would write about my sexuality or my desires or my attempts to date or find a partner… I would be attacked. Pretty aggressively. Because apparently, writing from the perspective of a lost, confused White Heterosexual Male was offensive? Ultimately, I stopped writing about trying to navigate dating… I stopped writing about being a College Aged Virgin struggling with the decision to wait until marriage or not. I stopped writing entirely after that. I did not return to Open Diary publicly after that (2005) until towards the end of Law School (2014) because things with my Wife had gotten insanely difficult. Looking back at my old OD entries (saved in Prosebox under THIS heading) I came back to OD to ask for help after 2 years 2 months and 10 days from last sexual interaction with my wife. So… you know how upset I was for being attacked on OD when I didn’t return until my own situation was that bad.

So, I share all of that to state… I encourage and love feedback, even negative feedback should that be what you wish to offer. But the following is honest and somewhat difficult. So if your impulse is merely to attack or name-call… skip it. I’ll likely delete your note and try to never let on how much it hurt. Because while your comments will likely succeed in making me feel some form of emotion, I don’t want to reward your efforts for indicating what emotion that was.

Now, onto the meat of the writing. Which my heads wants to explain in two different ways at the same time. So, if the following is strange/repetitious/or unclear… I appoligize. I am simply finding it difficult to put the words in the right order.

Attempt One
The truth of the matter is, women with significant mental health issues have always found their way into my romantic patterns. It is something I’ve spent a long time trying to understand figure out. Recently, I was trying to figure out WHY this was in a therapy session. Why does my romantic pattern involve women of questionable mental stability?

My Hypothesis “From an intellectual perspective, looking deep into myself and my past, I can only assume I gain three things from this pattern. (1) I am a man who has long worried about “a sense of purpose” and people constantly needing my support give me a feeling of purpose, albeit an unhealthy one. (2) For some reason, my mind says “People who want you can change their minds. People who need you won’t throw you away.” and lastly (3) It falls back on that Servant Hearted Nature. I genuinely want to help people. I honestly want to make the world a better place. And if people need me, it is my responsibility to help.”

So, in this my first attempt at discussing what I hope to get around to discussing, I’ll lay it all out.
I attract the ones with issues. My first girlfriend was a compulsive liar with extreme father-abandonment issues that genuinely thought “love” was the same thing as “manipulation.” After that, I swore off women with overt mental issues. Which I think may have bitten me in the butt. When I was going through Confirmation, there was a girl 1 year younger that I found genuinely attractive. She was dark haired, a twin, and intelligent. So, yes, when I say attractive I mean I found her physical appearance please while also appreciating her on a friendly level. She confessed her crush on me but in the note confessing her crush; she stated that she was a very depressed girl and that seeing me made each day more bearable. I decided that was not an appropriate place to start a romantic relationship. That seemed too… well, it seemed like a problem. So despite the fact that the attraction was mutual, I turned her down. I did a fair job after that, I thought, of avoiding girls with overt issues. Until The Singer. But we weren’t exactly together and she and I fell away before her issues truly manifested (they have since manifested into full blown disassociation and identity crisis). Next? I thought was great. True, she never talked about her absentee father, but I thought I’d lucked out. That was Tiffany Number 2. The one that went from quiet, beautiful to Party Girl. But I don’t honestly think you can call that a mental illness or mental crumble issue. That was just growing up. She discovered what she wanted to do with her life, it was wildly different from the girl I thought I knew, and that was that. After her was “Buffy”… a woman whose only issue is that she is a certifiable saint. In that case, she broke up with me because I was the mental issue. And she was right. Whereas she was able to keep her focus on the hopeful and the good; my focus was far too quick to focus on the broken and in need. And THAT is where we run into AKU. The very definition of a girl whose mind was too shattered to date, but I did anyway. After her, I got deeply involved with AOIFE. A girl too fragile and broken to allow for something genuine. Then Thompson, who isn’t necessarily mentally ill but a game player and someone who was “dating around until her first choice was available again.” Then from there? Shannon and my now Wife.

Yeah, I don’t think discussing it this way is exactly working.

ATTEMPT TWO
What we have learned from my relationship with my Wife is that her anxiety and mental issues instantly, quickly, and strongly turn her celibate. They shut down any and every intimate desire she may have and make her entirely resistant to advances of any nature. Change is her biggest anxiety causing issue. Thus, why I was very clear with her this time about how this anxiety isn’t just “making it hard to work” but is the very origin of most of our marital problems. Because when we got married (change) and moved to Nebraska (change) and I started Law School (change) my Wife decided we would not be having sex. At all. She was quick to blame Wal Mart, the specific Wal Mart where she worked was too awful and ruined her mood every day. But this went on FOR THREE YEARS! As a young man that had been strongly encouraged to Wait for Marriage, and as a young man that had waited for the woman that became his Wife… this was incredibly difficult to deal with. Oh, and all of this happening in the middle of Law School made it that much harder as well.

I am already worrying about a similar issue. Don’t misunderstand. I want to support my wife, I want to be the good husband, I want to be the good person… all of that. But… the truth… I’ve been putting up with this shit for 7 years of marriage. And every year we’ve been married, Wife says it is the worst year of her life. Each year was worse than the one before it. She was quick to say it wasn’t my fault, but she was also quick to blame something. Wal Mart, size of town, Wal Mart (again). But the painful truth is… it wasn’t the conditional situations that made her life worse every year… it was her own bullshit that she wasn’t dealing with mounting, growing, and getting worse every year. All of that attains cumulative weight and strife… so the longer she didn’t deal with it, the worse things got, which made every year The Worst Year.

So again, saying all of that, I want to be the supportive husband, the Good Man. But I’m also a person with his own emotions, his own needs, and his own issues. Always being there for someone else tends to build up this reserve feeling of “When is it going to be my turn?” In part, that is what the next two months were supposed to be for me. At least a little bit of an attempt to get my turn. Maybe not in every way I wanted, but at least a little.

But with Wife’s current state? We haven’t had sex since… February, at least. Maybe longer. And Wife has been very clear that any and all advances of an intimate nature are unwelcome, will not be reciprocated, etc. She is very sincere that we are going to have to wait quite a while before she can even consider sexual anything because of how she feels.

And it puts me in a position.

My mind goes straight to The Past.
As is evidenced by my first approach to write this… girls with mental issues of one kind or another are not exactly foreign to me. However, previous encounters have been considerably more… open to advances.
AKU: She was certifiably crazy. Dangerously crazy. Tried to kill me, tried to rape me crazy. But when we were together, she would often “dress for me.” She would know my preferences and she thought it fun to try them out. She wanted to please me and wanted to see what she could do to sexually arouse me. Of course, this was all a part of manipulation and exploration of control for her… but it was a case where Mental Issue Girlfriend item also created a semi-pleasant environment for me in a sexual manner.
AOIFE: If only we could have worked as a couple. She was so full of anxiety and depression and so often demanded my attention about it (without us being more than FWB) that I snapped on her once and we’ve never been the same since. Haven’t spoken since. But when we were together? It was the kind of chemistry and sexual passion that you read about in fiction. She would dress coy (a long skirt, a button up sleeveless blouse) and periodically show me her bra straps and hint at fun to come. Then we’d finally move the game to something more intense, and her shirt would fly and my mouth would bee line for her neck, ears, breasts… her hands would grab my erection… it was… always an intense experience!
SHANNON: Now we were never an item, though I was SO CLOSE to asking her before now-Wife came onto the picture. And it may be unfair to say she had “mental issues” but she was certainly not stable. She had been in an abusive marriage, gotten a divorce, and released her Wild side. Parties, recreational drugs, casual sex. But I enjoyed spending time with her as a friend and our game of flirting with each other always sent my head to the clouds, my heart racing, and my pants getting a bit tight. We even went beyond flirting a few times to a bit of groping and a kiss once or twice.

But I didn’t wind up with any of those three. I wound up with Wife. A woman who knows well my preferences and has never once “dressed for me.” A woman that understands I have needs and wants and has never once explored them. A woman for whom, truly it can be said, has been more celibate in our marriage than not. All because of her anxiety and mental blockages. And for those thinking “Maybe she has anxiety because she hasn’t accepted that she’s asexual or gay.” If that is the case, it is something I’ve tried to explore with her. Trying to determine if she just may not be heterosexual and how, that would be fine and I wouldn’t be mad, but as someone who loves her wants/needs her to discover if that is a possibility. She’s adamant that she is a heterosexual woman. Whether you believe it or not, that’s what I can report. Instead I have a marriage with a wife who actively spends time trying not to turn me on, who actively avoids sexual connection, and who has only ever been able to have sex with me while she was drunk. Yes, that all sounds to me like someone hiding from their true sexuality… or at least hiding from themselves.

The really troubling part?
I’m to the point in my emotional/physical place where I don’t even care if I’m having sex with my wife, I just want to have sex or feel sexually wanted and/or enjoyed. And that is a dangerous place to be. When you don’t care who you’re engaging in potentially sexually involved activities? That is a really bad sign.

Sunday I was at my church. 12 years ago, it was small and starting to grow. The message of Forgiveness, Inclusion, Love, and Enthusiasm spread and our church looked to be heading to Mega Church status. Then it was discovered that Olympic Medalist Shawn Johnson was a member of our Church and it exploded into Mega Church status. Especially in any Weekend Holiday Service. The one Palm Sunday service I went to? 3,000 attendees. Why do I discuss this here in this portion? Because, even though it was church, there were a lot of women. And as an accepting church that says “Wear whatever makes you comfortable”, there was quite the sundry of styles. There were the teenage girls who attended because it was popular… they wore anything from “Lil Club Goer Jr” outfits to “Leggings/Sweater” combos. There were dresses, skirts, jeans. In other words… there were so many people and so many variations (of people and clothing) that if you had any type… you could find at least one woman that completed that type attractively. My own sense of standards decreasing, despite it being at church, my eyes drank in the many pleasing sights around me.

Today I was at court. A Monday Morning court appearance isn’t exactly anyone’s favorite, but it is the busiest the courthouse gets. Busiest it gets means people. People means women. And in a court house, you get two kinds with various subtypes of each kind. Attorneys and Criminals. Female Attorneys dress in everything from slacks and a blouse to a full skirt suit with nylons and heels. Frankly, lots to visually enjoy for me in the Professional Attire category. But then you also have the Female Criminals. Some trying to look like “upstanding citizens” so they put on the Ugg Boots, the white leggings, the brown sweater top, and do their hair and makeup. You have some who genuinely don’t know their body type, so they show up in jeans and a shirt with their bosoms spilling out. You have some who just came in from their night out, so hoochie skirt and heels. Not exactly my type of individual in every case; but at least not bad on the eyes.

But appreciating women looking good isn’t exactly a problem. How do I know it is a problem in this case? Because as I was driving back to the office, a woman crossing the street caught my eye. She was in black boots, black slacks, wrapped in a black coat, a black scarf covering the lower part of her face, her black curly hair covering most of the rest of her face, and a forest green stocking cap on her head. You could determine that she was possibly medium to thin, hispanic, and under five feet two inches, and little more. But even that individual caught my attention and elicited the “I bet she’s hot” comment.