Meanwhile the tension was increasing, and it came to a head one night around 2 a.m. We’d had a tiff at the end of the evening when he said I was ignoring him. I didn’t think much about it and went to bed. In the middle of the night, Weldon was jerking the covers around, waking me up. He complained I was crowding him.
“Weldon,” I said, feeling the space between us, “there’s at least eighteen inches.” I couldn’t imagine what he meant and I was now fully awake. I got up.
“You don’t care anymore,” he said as I left the bedroom.
His words chilled me. I sat in the living room wondering what he meant, wondering where this comment had come from. It felt like a seminal moment in our marriage. Soon Weldon joined me sitting in the dark on the couch.
I told him what was on my mind.
“I’m having trouble with you being home all the time. I didn’t realize how much it would affect me. I know I should have talked with you earlier. Now it seems like it’s become a big issue between us.”
“I feel like you’re ignoring me. It’s like you don’t want me around,” he said.
“I know. I need to have time alone in my home. I have the office, but it’s not the same as being here on my own.”
“What can I do?” he asked.
“I know this has been a big adjustment for you, and you’ve handled most of it beautifully. I have to learn how to deal with your need to be a part of the household, but if you could stop asking so many questions, it would help. I hate to answer questions. I’d also like us to find ways so that I can have some time to myself at home.”
“I’ll try,” he said.
I decided I would be nicer to Weldon. I know this sounds simplistic, but I felt my reaction to him was the key to getting our relationship into equilibrium. It would lighten the mood in our home if I could do it. I also resolved to let him know how I was feeling — not my strongest suit, speaking my mind. I was successful for a time, but then I would forget and fall back to bickering or I would keep things to myself, letting my exasperation build up, which resulted in my exploding at the wrong moment, hurling hurtful comments in his direction.
But slowly I began to change. I’m not sure how I did it: Maybe it was as straightforward as making the affirmation that I would be more amiable or maybe it was my new practice of every week writing down five things I am grateful for, or maybe it was weekly sessions with a new acupuncturist, or maybe it was my new Network chiropractor, or maybe it was a combination of all these things. It took a while, but months later I realized I had shed my scratchy coat of irritation. When I began thinking negatively, I consciously adjusted, looking for positive aspects in the situation. I was less prickly, more joyful, and I began to relax and value our time together. I could see the same changes in my husband’s demeanor. We began to share household duties: He does the laundry, handles complaints and maintenance issues with our building manager, schedules appliance and other repairs, has become a computer expert, shops for groceries, makes the Costco run. We have more of a partnership. We don’t have a perfect relationship: We still have to remind ourselves to listen and to tell each other what’s on our minds, but we’re enjoying each other and life.
Weldon endeavors to stay out of my way for part of the day, giving me time to myself, and to not make constant comments about our household, but he still asks questions. This week I was curled up on the couch reading P.D. James’ latest mystery. Weldon walked into the living room and said, “I thought you changed the sheets on Monday. This is Thursday.”
I laughed. Weldon paused, laughed, and planted a kiss on the top of my head.
About Susan Knox
