Getting Comfortable with his Discomfort

I find his discomfort incredibly difficult. 

But, this is what makes us Cassandras great lovers and partners in the first place: we want to make life lovely for the ones we love. Isn't that what anyone in a romantic relationship wants to do, initially anyway? If you prioritise them 100% and they prioritise you 100%, surely you can't go far wrong? This is my theory anyway.

It was at the point when I was exhausted, neglected, depressed and worn down that I realised that Peter was protecting his own comfort at all costs, leaving me in intense discomfort a lot of the time and nobody was looking after me. I realised that I needed to become selfish to survive. I had to stop loving him purely out of survival.  This does not make for a successful romantic relationship. Ever. I'm well acquainted with discomfort, having grown up with an alcoholic parent. Despite tons of therapy and self help, I didn't realise that I was still tolerating my own discomfort so "well" until extremely recently.

It is still foreign to me to accept Peter's discomfort in return for my own comfort. I feel immense guilt, a sense of failure, self doubt, self loathing, selfishness. I feel I've wronged him. He makes me feel I've betrayed him: the sulking, the silent treatment, the body language. However, I'm having to tolerate Peter's discomfort to keep my children safe from his erratic driving; his lack of danger awareness, his emotional neglect and exposure to his mother's narcissism. It's a tough balance because no matter what I do, I feel a sense of unease at my decision making. This weekend, Peter had wanted the children to accompany him on a family trip and I told him no. I have thought of him alone, his cousins and sister all accompanied by their young children and him alone and a bit lost without any of us there. I have to remind myself that he has repeatedly chosen his loyalty to the FOO (family of origin) over his loyalty to me and our children and that this is his consequence.

Peter isn't used to consequences. 

He has been quite spoiled by his parents in some ways, having lived a rather privileged childhood filled with long-haul holidays; racing cars funded by his father; large houses; tree houses; play rooms filled with the latest toys and gadgets; deposits for houses and cars paid for in adulthood. Peter's childhood has lacked in emotion and love, but he has never lacked in material things and big experiences. He was supported and funded by his parents to partake in a range of hobbies and outlets as a child and I doubt if he ever asked for something, he was ever told no. 

Self entitlement is an ugly attribute, but it dominates Peter's motivations; he believes that poor people are born of laziness rather than circumstance, with this comes an innate superiority complex; he believes that he is deserving of a comfortable life. This mindset conflicts greatly when the man I know expected things to work in his favour always, despite the poor effort he made in love. He is an exception to his own belief systems. 

Yesterday, I received a text from Peter asking me to cut his hair for him having always done this previously. I didn't reply for hours. Intensely going over whether to agree or not to- my head knowing that this was not appropriate and my heart just wanting to please him, make him happy. I thought of the extra childcare he'd provided this week and had to remind myself that no, he's their father, I don't need to sabotage my personal boundaries for feelings of obligation towards him for purely looking after his own children! 

I responded eventually very authentically. I said that I felt very guilty for saying no but that I needed to protect my own feelings. In the past, I've stuck to my boundaries authoritatively at times and felt like I've been a hypocrit when I've needed him and dropped those boundaries again. This time was different. Telling him that I felt guilty helped me feel a bit more comfortable somehow. Peter actually responded with an apology for putting me in an awkward position, which felt positive.

However, we all know how these types of men operate and I was soon to blame. He was unable to make an appointment at the barbers that evening as he was looking after the children. He tried to convince me to keep the children longer as they were "playing nicely" but I had my own plans, meaning that he couldn't go off and find a barber at the last minute. His demeanor suddenly changed as a result and I was met with sulking and one word answers when he collected the children. Because things hadn't worked out for him, because I hadn't facilitated his hair cut or a last minute barber dash due to his own disorganisation, suddenly I was to blame afterall. Peter's parents have always organised everything for him all his life, before I came along and now here I was, not facilitating his lack of planning and organisation anymore. How dare I? 

That old familiar feeling of guilt started to creep in again and I had to remind myself that his hair is not my responsibility. It should never have been my responsibility. We are separated, why on earth would it be my responsibility now?! 

I ask myself what will become of Peter in his newly found discomfort? Will he give up? Will he find his motivation after all? Or will his parents swoop in and save him at some point? One thing I know for sure is that if I don't look out for myself and notice my own discomfort and unease, nobody will and it is time to accept that this is bound to come at the detriment of Peter and the cushioned life he knows so well.

I know that he will be livid with me on his return from the family trip. He'll hate to have attended the event without the front of the family man to bolster his image. Surrounded by families, it will be completely my fault that he has felt uncomfortable and missed having the children by his side. I sit here now, reminding myself that his discomfort is not my responsibility anymore. He could choose to take responsibility for his experience over the weekend, reflect on his behaviour and choices over the years which have put him in this position in the first place, but he won't do that. 

I sit tight, knowing that there'll be an underhanded punishment for me at some point and that his parents and sister will be fuelling his entitlement over the weekend. But, life could have been so much different had he have chosen to lovingly and assertively prioritise his family over just thinking of himself.