I don’t trust easily. I haven’t figured out why. I don’t really care to know either. I have a lot of friends and some I would call good, close, personal friends. Yet I do the listening. It’s very rare for me to divulge personal details to anyone. I have never opened up to anyone regarding my failing marriage. Never. It’s probably a half of my problem because I don’t have an “out”. My ‘anonymous’ blog here is about the only out I have. A lot of that has to deal with pride. I don’t like to lose. I don’t like to fail. I hate to admit defeat. A failing marriage is all of that all balled up into one pretty little package.
I also don’t trust any one I know to give me any real advice. All of my girl friends tell me what they think I want to hear. None of them have the courage, with few exceptions, to tell me what they really think or how they really feel. This is serious business here. There is no room for gushy She-Man Woman powers, girls rule, boys drool type of attitude. I don’t do that. Never have. Never will.
Combine all of that with the fact that I love my husband. I take an enormous amount of pride in him. (I should probably tell him that from time to time. Might help.) I don’t want our friends to think less of him or me. I don’t want our relationship issues to be the topic of conversation the way other people’s relationships are.
A few weeks ago I decided I needed to talk to someone. I needed to find a marriage therapist. I didn’t want to just pick one off of Google reviews. I wanted someone who was experienced enough to deal with our issues.
Deep down I knew I needed a man’s perspective in this matter. I knew that no matter how many women I talked to, I need to talk to a man who would tell me what I NEED to hear. He also needed to be someone I had great respect for. I needed to value his opinion or all would be lost. I also needed him to know my husband at some level. I could only think of one person. I told my husband who it was and that I planned to talk to him. He wasn’t thrilled but understood.
We talked. I am forever grateful for his sincerity. For his compassion. For his honesty. For his trust.
He gave me a name of a therapist he uses himself for him and his wife. He told me the good & the bad. He told me a lot of things that I didn’t need to know but because I know he felt the feeling of trust & compassion was reciprocated. And it was.
We’ve communicated on a personal level in the past, albeit very high level. I would never text him. I only called him when absolutely necessary. Months would go by and there would be no communication between us. Yet when ever we would see each other or talk it felt like that best friend… you know…. that you can pick up right where you left off. I’ve always felt a good connection with him and sometimes I’ve felt guilty about that. He’s a married man. He’s a very successful professional. He’s basically my husband and if there was another woman who was confiding in my husband and he was responding this way, I’d be a bit jealous about it. I’d want to know about it. Yet I’m not sure his wife knows. I’m also certain there is nothing to tell her. It’s not like there is some wild affair happening; physically or emotionally. But I do know he cares about my situation. As do I about his. It’s a very hard situation for me. I am torn about my reasons for confiding in him. Yet of all things I have done regarding my failing marriage, I feel as though confiding in him was the best thing I’ve done so far. He has such similarities to my husband that I hope my subconscious can keep them straight.
I’ve told my husband about every conversation we’ve had. Every single one and what we’ve talked about. He feels odd about it. I don’t blame him. I’ve told him this man is eerily similar to him. I’ve told him why I think that. He understands yet I can tell he’s uneasy about it. I don’t blame him.