Recently went to my psychiatrist for our semi-annual chat and renewal of my antidepressant medicines. She asked how I was doing in my marriage, because she knows the traumatic history.
I told her that it’s comfortable. I don’t trust him like I used to, so I’m much more reserved, less reliant and less vulnerable than I was in the past. I’ve waffled for a long, long, long time about whether I should or shouldn’t leave him, but for right now the answer’s no.
I didn’t really know I had decided that until I said it.
She was very accepting. It felt like getting permission — from someone whose judgment I trust — to stay for the shared memories, the companionship, the financial support, etc. That helps me feel less guilty for not loving him nearly to the depth I used to do.
I’m also still a little sad at the idealism about him that I lost after his affair. I used to hold him up as the standard by which I judged whether others were also good guys.
He’s still a good person to spend time with. Just not the good guy I thought he was.
I don’t know if I can or want to live like this forever, but I’m okay right now. I think.