As I was walking the other day and contemplating my loneliness and the crisis I feel I’m in, I thought about some of the reader comments I’ve received.
No one in particular said anything to make me question whether perhaps I’m to blame for Wayne’s lack of attention. It just sort of popped into my head as I was thinking.
I tend to believe I am.
Not because I’m a Super Nagger of a wife who harps on him all the time to where he can’t breathe and doesn’t enjoy being home. It’s the flip side of that coin. I probably don’t nag enough. I take it, whatever “it” may be, on and rarely ask for his help.
Once upon a time I wrote about something Wayne did do for love and it prompted a then new-to-me muse, Jade Walker, to ask what I do for my husband. Which of course led to a reply.
My list of To Dos and, more importantly, Will Dos, seems to grow more and more each year. The majority of the time I don’t mind. By nature I thrive on being helpful to people. I rarely demand the same in kind.
But I guess I do expect it. I expected that Wayne would be there for me as I’ve been there for him. When he wasn’t, I was disappointed.
It’s my fault. I never should have “expected” him to be there. That’s been the root of all my angst lately. He doesn’t know how to do it because I’ve never demanded it of him.
On a couple of their comments, readers have said how “strong” they think I am and that they know I can make it through all this.
That was a source of truth. I am strong. Time and time again I’ve proved to Wayne just what broad shoulders I have and just how heavy a burden I can carry.
That’s created an expectation on his part. He takes it for granted that just as I’ve always done before, I’ll manage through this too.
So I guess when it comes down to it, we’re both to blame. And I think a step towards solving our issues, one I haven’t tried yet, is to correct our expectations of each other.
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