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Denial, in progress
2010-09-21, 1:45 p.m.

*Sigh* Denial is a powerful thing.

I have so much I need and want to do in the next hour before work, but I need to get this in as well... I am working against deadlines on some of my creative projects and my time is running out.

Denial... Jeff is behaving as though the whole summer--and all that we went through, discussed, argued over--never happened. The only difference by him is that he's not wearing his wedding ring. He says it's because it needs to be repaired (it is egg-shaped due to a lot of wear-and-tear thanks to the hospitality industry). Whatever--it doesn't matter much to me. We see very little of each other, interact very little when we do--though I do make sure there is some interaction, as it serves my purposes, and everything is just the same as it always was, more or less.

Today we had an exchange that was particularly hope-decimating for me. There are a few picking-up-after-oneself items that seem like they are never, ever going to go away. I do my very, very best not to nag. For a while, I'd just do it. Then I'd do it begrudgingly, telling myself--convincing myself "I am the wife and mother; this is my job." This statement can be true--however, I'm also the source of the sole income to the house, so it shouldn't be. Then I tried testing my theories that if I didn't pick things up, they'd just sit there, be looked past, stepped over and accumulate. My theories were right. This seems like a good time to point out what is happening, so I did, gently. Not received well, but I'm okay with taking baby-steps. So proceed to reminding, try nagging--as it hasn't been tried yet... Revert back to just doing it myself and seething with anger. Today, when I entered the kitchen from picking up several items around the house, the box from today's macaroni and cheese lunch was empty, laying on the counter--this is one of our common occurrences that I've asked many times to be taken care of. I grumble and throw it away.
When Jeff comes around, I merely state, "I threw away the macaroni and cheese box."
*eye roll*
"Please don't roll your eyes at me."
"I also picked up your clothes in the bathroom."
*eye roll*
"Please don't roll your eyes at me. Please, please can you help me NOT feel trapped?"
*confused look* "Trapped?" *Grumbles under breath*

There are so many simple things that he could be doing, for fear of me being at the end of my wits with our marriage, that don't seem to be worth the attention or effort to him. You'd think, or I'd think after as close as we came over the summer to being over, that he'd be willing to do anything. Not even simple things, though... I'm still dreading the next, "I'm not happy" talk. He doesn't understand at all, and I don't know how to get his attention, apparently.

...and he loves me. I so don't understand it.

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