Tomorrow is Spreadsheet Mans moving day. I’ve emptied everything out the bedroom and neatly piled it in the hall, stacked various possessions of his in the side living-room, and organised the Summer House so my things are in a corner. The only spaces left are the garage and the attic, both of which just have paperwork and camping stuff for him to grab.
I thought I’d have more feelings about all this, but I don’t. I feel nothing but relief and irritation. Relief he’s going, irritation I have to deal with him this one last time.
I had my first therapy session yesterday (Dr. F) which was extended to a 3 hour slot. We talked through my history, then settled into discussing my marriage. He asked to see my text message ending the marriage, the responding text, the email and the spreadsheet.
His biggest interest was why I pressed the eject button so fast and seemingly out of nowhere. I told him I actually don’t know; the marriage was pretty dreadful, but something about his behaviour that weekend just tipped me over the edge.
After some discussion, it occured to me that my Gift of Fear kicked in and took the wheel. It was the first time Spreadsheet Man had been out the house for an extended period - the longest we’ve been apart for our entire marriage - and I unconsciously took the opportunity to extract myself from a safe distance. It feels so dramatic typing these words, but there’s something I can’t put my finger on, something deep and buried in my core, a primal instinct I can’t rationally describe.
He’s never laid a hand on me, never threatened me, he’s never so much as raised his voice, and I’ve never considered myself scared of him, yet I find myself managing both my behaviour and our environment so he isn’t ‘set off’. I walk on eggshells, never challenge him, make sure he’s sheltered from anything negative, make excuses to others for his behaviour, protect him from criticism, act as his Meat Shield and have frequently had difficult discussions and arguments on his behalf. I have created this bubble around him so he is constantly coddled, and I’ve never stopped to ask myself why. Why am I so preoccupied with avoiding him being ‘set off’? He’s never ‘set off’ before, so why do I have this innate fear of it happening?
I admitted something to Dr. F that I’ve never discussed or even addressed with myself because it felt like I was being paranoid and deranged. Around 6 months ago, I had this fleeting thought that one day he’ll kill me in my sleep, and I instantly went online and purchased a Swiss Army knife. It was so irrational, so preposterous, so insane - the man has never even shouted at me, for goodness sake - but I couldn’t shake this feeling, this intangible and nebulous yet palpable feeling of innate unease. Once the knife arrived, I hid it in my bedside drawer.
I’ve been so deeply ashamed that I had that one thought, that I acted on it, that I entertained such a ludicrous notion. I still don’t understand it now, but I’ve realised that it doesn’t actually matter whether my thought and reaction was rational or not; it happened and demonstrates I felt unsafe- I may have misinterpreted emotional danger as physical danger, but I still felt danger, and I attempted self-preservation.
Dr. F helped me devise an Action Plan for tomorrow which ensures my safety, both physically and mentally. A friend is on standby to phone the police if I message a code word. Front door will be wedged open for the entire move. I am only to engage in discussion about possessions - if he tries to discuss the divorce, I’ll tell him that it’s best to keep it all through email. If he asks about my future plans, I’m to say I haven’t decided yet. If he asks how I’m feeling, I’ll respond “I think this is a relief for both of us.” I’m to exercise the mantra “pick your battles, this isn’t the hill to die on” if he starts trying to take things that aren’t strictly his - stuff is just stuff and can be replaced.
My gut feeling about tomorrow is that he’ll show up, treat me like a stranger, get his things, and go. I’m not scared about him being here, I honestly don’t think he’ll so much as acknowledge me, but it’s best to have a safety plan.
As Dr. F said - you never really know a person until you’ve rejected them.
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