Taking Two to Tango

Is it possible that this remarkable, magical, spectacular love that I have for my husband will not withstand the equally spectacular stress of this life we've created together? Could such magic be so cheaply made?

I don't know.

And I don't know anymore if the spectrum streak that runs through my husband is what will make it just too damned much to bear. I already have one man in my house who refuses to look me in the eye and answer. I don't need another. And is this hardwired? I always figured that through the course of our marriage, the rough spots would soften and we would grow together, change together, learn together. Isn't that how it works? I thought so, too.

Not so much here. He tells me I've changed since we got married twelve freaking years, three kids, two states, one pervasive neurological disorder, and one brain-fried mother ago. Oh really, Honey? Gosh, I'm sorry I let that stuff get to me. My bad. He says we're not supposed to change. (WTF?????) I know, right? But that's what he told me today and I cannot make sense of it and I am beginning to think that he will never, ever hear what I say, never understand my perspective, and never trust my judgement. And the worst is that he will never, EVER talk about it.
Me? I'm all about no secrets. Ever since we had the big secret about how my grandfather drove to the end of the block and put a bullet through his head right before my mother's school bus went by, and nobody told my brother about it, so when he was sick and grabbed his gun in similar fashion, neither he nor his wife knew how this was built into him. (Because it was a secret...shhhh...)

Anyway, ever since then, I'm not much for not talking, for pretending it's sunny outside when the roof is leaking. I don't have the stomach for it. My husband comes from the kind of family that spoke of nothing. Ever. Thus, I am confrontational and difficult and obsessed. No, I'm not. I'm scared and mad and I need to talk about it. Tomato, Tomahto.

I'm horrible. I know. I can't let up. I've changed since we married. I know things now that weigh on me like wet sand. Am I supposed to pretend? I cannot. And I cannot keep asking the same questions and getting no answers. And getting no explanation for the no answers. Not big questions. Regular questions. It's very strange. And one minute he wants a documented list of these "offenses" and the next he thinks I should forget about them. I...I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. He hears things I do not say. His perspective has changed me, yes. Made me completely gun shy, if you'll pardon the pun. I am wary of talking,it comes at great cost to me, so when I do, it is because I must. Do you see? I must speak and be heard, and I must have him answer when I speak. For good, or for bad, just an answer, please. This is communicating, no? And yet, here we are.

Oh, how I love this man. I do, a million times over and over, I do. But is it enough?

I don't know.