As long as I'm sitting here idling...

Something about Mrs. Spit's latest post has inspired me to do some taking stock. I suppose that's a useful action to take when stalled, take inventory of what has happened to get me to the point where I'm stuck. Maybe a consolidated perspective can make some sort of jump-starting possible. At the very least it can help pass the time.

It was only upon further reflection last week that Gary's mom taking his picture against his will became remarkable. I've had a lifetime of people imposing their wills, and wondering if there was something wrong with me for my feelings of objection: "Don't take things so seriously", "it was nothing", "it's such a little thing", "you're selfish". Her behavior at Connor's birthday dinner once would have been well within the range of 'normal' for me--the only thing I would have considered was if I was wrong for being critical of her for it.

Though the act of taking the picture was seemingly minor (and the social contract is that Gary's obligated to dismiss it as such), at its core the message was, "it's not about what you want, it's about what I want."

It occurred to me that this fits into the bigger picture I've been working about differentiation and narcissism, and a new word (courtesy of Sharon), "perspective".

I see the parallel between what Gary's mom did to him, and what Gary does to me: if Gary, from Darlene's perspective is only an extension of her will and she therefore is free to overrule his objections, then I too have been seen as an extension of Gary's.

There are consequences to this. First, any conflict is an affront, as if a part of his own body has mutinied, when I disagree. Resentment and a sense of betrayal makes perfect sense from Gary's perspective. The idea of negotiation doesn't make sense in this context because 'conflict resolution' presupposes a party of at least two, and in this perspective there is only one.

What this has looked like from my perspective is that we are not good partners in accomplishing something, from carrying a table through a doorway, to planning a trip, to raising children. From my perspective I see many points where consensus, and thus discussion, and if necessary, negotiation are needed...Gary has no patience with this; he just wants it DONE. From my perspective it looks as if he's expecting me to know his mind without his having to state it; from his, I am an extension of his mind, so he shouldn't have to state it. What's remarkable is through countless encounters that end badly, he has never examined this.

My own background made me susceptible, so that I held my own objections in suspicion (the fact that I had objections seemed evidence of my own character flaws). I suppose in a way it felt normal to live like that.

And, this is what I've been coming to realize is the reason I've been considering ending this marriage. Because we're rendered unable to function as a couple in using the most important tool: communication to resolve misunderstanding, negotiate differences of opinion, and healing rifts. And so we're choking in the accumulation of years of unresolved resentment which lowers the threshold for causes of fresh incoming nearly every day.

If we can't function as a couple then the options diminish. Either I erase myself and find a way to become a more perfect instrument of his will or I leave.

The situation is definitely far more abstract than if he were physically abusive, an alcoholic, or compulsive gambler. Putting aside the inevitable opinions of my parents that there is no valid reason to end a marriage with young children in the absence of overt abuse is the more personal question as to the nature of harm being done to them.

Though both Gary and I love the boys, between us we can't provide an environment that has the conditions necessary for love to be a tangible atmospheric ingredient. It seems analogous to living next to a stagnant pond, as opposed to a flowing river.

Which will do more harm? Stay in chronic but 'stable' unhappiness, or undergo the trauma of radical change.

{Years ago my high school literature teacher read a story to the class by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. It's a short story called "Harrison Bergeron". In the story the goal of an 'equalized' society has been realized. People who are exceptionally beautiful must wear masks; athletes, dancers, or others who move gracefully are encumbered by weights and manacles. Brilliant thinkers must wear headphones that every few minutes emit loud jarring discordant sounds. Since my children have been old enough to locomote and talk I've often thought of the parallel of the thinkers with the headphones. I'm surrounded by children and if I'm not being interrupted I'm anticipating it...I can go no further with this thread}

Where things stand

James Hillman's essay has shaken loose a number of insights, mainly on the theme of differentiation.

I've realized this for a long time, but I get it more deeply now that the seat of the fissure between Gary and me is the fact of conflict.

After years of a similar pattern to our struggles I realized that part of what really twisted inside me about them was that they often rose when he held me responsible for something that I could not have known, unless my brain had been sitting behind his eyes. More and more it became clear that in his dealings with me he was fully expecting that my perspective was indistinguishable from his. A minor manifestation of this might be the two of us trying to maneuver a long table through a doorway:

Gary: "Move the end to the right...to the RIGHT! ...the right!!!!" Me, having moved the 'end' to the 'right', totally puzzled and stung by his tone. Then it turns out he means his right, and by 'end' he means the upper end, and by 'move', he means tip. I've pointed out to him before that because he can see something from his vantage, it looks different from mine, and more precise language rather than increased volume might get better results. I can tell by the acoustics that he doesn't 'get' this, that he really feels I had all the information I needed and if I didn't it was on account of stupidity (mine).

I see now that this is just one mundane example of a common thread that is pervasive in our marriage--he really believes that what he sees is what I see too. And when I differ to him it feels like a betrayal--as if I realized my eye had been 'telling' me the tree was green, but it really is red.

The fact of any conflict at all between us, and in this sense I define 'conflict' as a divergence in how we perceive a shared event, is offensive to him. Because if I were indistinguishable from him, then there would be no conflict.

So this is why we haven't been able to get a handle on even the basics of conflict management: we're not supposed to have conflict in the first place. Therefore attempts to resolve conflict, beginning with acknowledging the presence of conflict has already offended him and he is coming from a place of resentment--which creates more conflict.

This explains the curious spiral nature of the issues between us, where conflict A happens, I name it, he a) dismisses b) diminishes c) criticizes my response, and then conflict A is still unresolved and now there's conflict A1 to deal with too. Eventually we may come to a sort of resolution, but the cost has been that he harbors resentment toward me and feels I've brow-beaten him into 'admitting' he's 'wrong'.

I've not correctly apprehended the nature of this very basic problem. I have assumed that he is a rational person and tried to point out to him that essentially he's expecting me to read his mind and this isn't a reasonable expectation. I've been baffled by the fact that he doesn't seem to see this, and the basic problem recurs in a different form, at all levels of our relationship. I've wondered if it is me who is expecting too much, if I've made an error in my reasoning somewhere, or if I'm 'too sensitive' and therefore susceptible to his tone--in other words I've wondered if I'm at fault.

To consider that this is an issue of differentiation makes a lot of things clear.

What I understand about Theory of Mind comes to mind here. I hope I don't offend in mentioning it, because I know that many parents of autistic children dislike it intensely. But I think it applies in this case to a person with a typical neurology--it certainly explains what I've been experiencing. To illustrate Theory of Mind a child is shown a film of Millie who has taken a bar of chocolate out of a drawer, eats some, puts it back in the drawer, and leaves the room. A few moments later in the film Millie's mom removes the same chocolate, uses it in cooking, and puts it away in a different drawer. The child watching the film is asked which drawer Millie will look in to find the chocolate when she comes back. An immature child will think that Millie will look in the drawer that he saw the mother put the chocolate in, not realizing that Millie is carrying a different construct in her head based on her experience. In essence, Gary is not distinguishing his perspective from that of Millie--he expects Millie's behavior to be based on his perspective. Furthermore, he doesn't see that he's not separating his perspective from hers.

This would account for the sense of dead space between us, where I just don't feel I've connected when I try to explain to him that I couldn't possibly have known what he meant about something.

This is a big problem. It's a primary source of conflict in our relationship; it's a primary obstacle to being able to clean up after a conflict. It's a source of resentment from him toward me. It's the source of often poisoned air between us. It's like living on a fault line and at any moment a gap will open underfoot to fall into. It's difficult to anticipate the next time he will expect my perspective to be identical to his so I can compensate for it in advance. He is blind to it, so it is unrealistic to expect him to adjust his behavior.

The big question is, how is this affecting the boys? Is living in this zone ultimately more harmful to them than the trauma of a parental separation/divorce?