Sheltering in place has wife ready to kill her husband
DEAR CAROLYN: My husband loves to provide commentary — on the news, TV shows, even over my shoulder when I am online. Now that we are together 24/7 it is driving me over the edge. I have told him to go away, and he does for a few hours, but then forgets and does it again. It is commentary without a filter. None of it is even that original, and he presents it as some kind of genius brainstorm.
I know it sounds like I just have contempt for him, and that’s not true. He’s a great guy. He is kind and helpful and neighborly and engaged. He would never say an unkind word, even when well-deserved. I love him, but I need him to stop hovering over my shoulder before I kill him. Help!
— Up the Wall DEAR READER: Oh this is happening so much right now. So. Much. Right. Now.
And by “this” I don’t mean endless unwanted commentary or even the broader OMG-does-our-fondness-need-absence! epiphany that I think all cohabiting people just had or are about to have.
I mean the clash of anxieties, where his express themselves in a way that misaligns with yours so perfectly it’s uncanny.
Like the rest of us, he’s just trying to stay glued. His way of doing that is to talk and talk and provide unfiltered running commentary on all media. You’re trying to stay glued, too, and your way of doing that is to try to lose yourself in whatever media you’re consuming. He can’t get relief from you. You can’t get relief from him. We see you, all of you who play 24-hour news to feel better, sharing homes with people who unplug to feel better; and the ones who put themselves on rigid self-care regimens, living with the ones who surrender unshowered to Netflix and chips.
So what I recommend, at least toward remaining glued through 24/7 immersion in crisis-imposed weirdness of any kind, is to give up on relief and switch over to a program of indulgence — mutually, if he’s game, where you openly let each other be yourselves. Meaning:
■ You both acknowledge that what each of you needs is in direct conflict with what the other needs.
■ You both agree to give the other license to seek relief, with the understanding there will be times you just can’t listen right now/stop talking right now.
■ You create a lexicon for this, ideally, so “go away” can go away.
If he’s not game, or if one or both of you doesn’t have enough control over the anxiety flow to back off comfortably when asked, then you simply resolve to try: When you’re at your calmest, let him talk, reminding yourself that you’re banking goodwill credits toward when you can’t bear another word.
Repeat after me: This. Too. Shall. Pass. No worries if you can’t unclench that just yet.
DEAR CAROLYN: Some years back, I dated “James,” who I saw myself spending the rest of my life with. He was a little older, and not always perfect, but I believed we had something special.
Then, one fateful evening I came home to find him cheating on me with a co-worker. I was devastated, and we broke up on the spot. After, I started dating another man, who was incredibly kind and understanding. However, I found myself still in love with James, and after a year of dating, I ended the relationship.
Now, I don’t know what to do. I feel as though I let an amazing guy go, but at the same time I can’t deny my feelings for James. What do you recommend?
— K. DEAR READER: I recommend you.
Not James, whom you refuse to believe even after he showed you who he is, in your own home no less; not the guy you call “amazing” even though you remain unamazed. You.
That’s the relationship you need to invest in now. Completely. Listen to your own hopes, dreams, realities, flaws, quirks, stories, expectations, heartbreaks. Seek your own companionship. (For those solo-sheltering in place — LOL intended.) Buy yourself a lovely dinner. Grant yourself the kind of warmth and acceptance you’re accustomed to showing these men.
Do this until you’re no longer thinking in terms of this man, that man or the next one.
Then: Let the person you become through this process, this gentle release of everything you think you’re supposed to be and have and feel, this invitation to embrace “the rest of your life” as your very real today and not some expected tomorrow — let that person be the one to decide it’s good idea to date again. And let that be when you meet someone you are patient enough to get to know before making up your mind, who is good to and for you, and who feels as grateful for you as you feel for him.