let it unfold

Thank you very much for the ear sympathy. Fascinating/disgusting report: it's quite a bit better, has deflated to a more normal dimension and I can almost hear through a minor static interference. An improvement. I am sporting an impressive Augmentin pallor, however, the kind you otherwise get from being a consumptive, or doing a long stretch inside.

Some of you have kindly enquired as to the progress of our declaration, and so, let us indeed marvel at the smoky and clogged engine that is the relevant Authority, the cogs of which do turn extraordinarily slowly.  Our paperwork is all complete, and now lacks only a stamp of approval from the Authority before we are cleared for take-off and it will all be sent on to India. Mysteriously, however, the Authority cannot seem to stamp the documents in good time, and oh dear! They are so backed-up! And lifting the stamp is so tiring! You'd be wrecked doing it!

Uffa, as Italians have it. UFFA.

As it happens, India itself is closed to new applications until January, while it reconfigures its own system. So if one wanted to be one of those perky, positive people, one could say that at least the two delays are coinciding. But, I don't know, maybe in my youth I read too many moralistic children's stories, wherein the poor blighters wore saggy, wool swimming trunks and were always getting their comeuppance but all this is taking on the aspect of a very heavy-handed karmic lesson. Festina fecking lente, etc. Embrace the crap life you are living. Live in the fecking moment. Seize the saucepan and brain your spouse the day. GOT THE MESSAGE, Universe.

Let it unfold.

That's the hardest, isn't it. The JB and I had a most weird conversation the other night. I know this is going to sound rather bleak, but let's not panic here, it's really okay. It's not as dire as all that. In fact, it's almost as if talking about these things make them more manageable. In a way.

Imagine the following being all conducted in the most lack-lustre tones, like we are discussing our rubbish collection, and whether the green bin alternates with the black every two weeks, or not:

JB, comes in after work, flops on sofa: Sorry about this morning. (He stamped off earlier in the day, in a snit over my response to the delays as above.) I just feel like throwing in the towel, sometimes. It feels to me like our wheels are spinning.

T: What do you mean, throwing in the towel?

JB: You know, giving up, leaving.

T, still with zero inflection: Ah. Breaking up?

JB: Yes.

T: Oh. Well, if that's what you want to do.

I simply had no response anymore, felt calm, in a "Ah well, 'tis the tapestry of life." way, and just lolled there like a badly stuffed doll. I can't continue to keep the show on the road. He is simply going to have to decide for himself. Every suggestion I make - counselling, research, bereavement groups, reading the helpful, straightforward The Portable Therapist - he won't do any of it. He doesn't recognise that the feelings aren't the problem, it's the defeatist behaviour that is. Of course I know that he doesn't mean what he says, he's not going to leave, he loves me, and blah, blah, blah, but those words still undermine my faith in us. My brain starts whirring. The genie is out of the bottle, and I am thinking with half my brain, the part May beautifully describes as sitting there eating popcorn through it all: Blimey. What would that be like? Where would I live? Huh.

The human brain, if mine is anything to go by, anyway, abhors a vacuum. It - I - want to know where my next meal is coming from, at the most basic level. I find it so hard to keep the vision of the alternative lives beside each other in my head, and not preempt whatever will be, and not throw myself on my sword.

Of course there was much apologising and forgiving later. But what has been said cannot be unsaid.



She makes herself comfortable.

Comments

[Hairy Farmer Family]

Argh! and Aiiee! My blog feed for Twangy, it is become apparent, has got Bolloxed. I have just Un-Bolloxed it, and... gosh. I missed stuff.

I know just the feeling you describe. Just. Including - and May, indeed, has it perfectly - the popcorn-munching. And the thoughts that won't quite cram back inside the box they slithered discreetly out from.

Oh, poor Twangy. All you've gone through, and still the road is potholed to buggery just around here. It simply isn't fair, and if I could tow you past this section to the patch that the EU paid to make nice and flat & straight (are all those blue signs thanking them still up over there? Forests of 'em, I saw!) then I would be there waving my sturdy tow-rope in a twinkling, looking eager.

Whatever life-shape the smooth bit of road takes for you, my very dear dear, I am hoping my absolute hardest that you reach it pronto. Forgiving and trying-to-forgetting are not fabulously fun activities, and any talk of towel-throwing, no matter how apathetic, does rather tend to make a girl a tad miserable. And the thought of a Twangy made miserable I find an extremely worrisome, sad, bad thought. And a poorly-sick ear to boot! This simply isn't on, lovey. I feel the need to charge over there and hasten the return of your rightful and deserved life-course to you, your just desserts of Happiness, Peace - not to mention Enduring Artistic Fame.

I am just too far for hugs, and that is a grief to me. But my remaining options are varied, nevertheless: I can write a very stern note to Someone In Authority if that will help? Or how about a box of cow shit, that always gets accompanying paperwork to the rapid top of someone's Urgent out tray? Or my very kindest, warmest thoughts for your wellbeing?

That last one, eh? H'okay. Consider it done.

[a]

Speaking from experience, you might want to go off on the JB and tell him that he's being...whatever he's being. Because the dispassionate conversation may lead him to believe that you don't actually care and it becomes one big defeatist cycle in his brain. And you end up believing that he means what he says, instead of him just being unable to process his feelings properly. (So based on that, I'm amateur diagnosing him with depression or anxiety.)

I hope the stampers get to stamping, and the matchers find you a match, and you're soon wanting to kick the JB because he's overly enthusiastic.

And I hope your ear is better.

[Twangypearl]

Thank you, both.
Manure idea is genius! Ha. Love it.

And a, interesting. Yes, I am sure you are right, he's sort of stuck in some sort of anxious inertia. You know, it's interesting, the discussions themselves seem to kick him out of it, as he realises that our splitting would be another cause of grief. Then he gets reset.

But what a cycle it is. SIGH.

[May]

Caveat: I am ASSVICENING, so please ignore if necessary.

JB needs to be told that when he goes all 'ohh, let's throw in the towel' it really, actually, hurts you. OK, so he's depressed and grieving and flippin' miserable, poor chap, and feeling like that makes it harder to process other people's feelings, but REALLY. It's not a free pass to be careless with one's beloved's heart.

I am amazingly eloquent even when VERY CROSS, but H, poor lamb, finds rows so stressful bits of his brain shut down and he can't really take in a lot of what I'm saying (shouting. Hissing. Whatever). So a thing that works for us is writing letters. I write what I want him to know ('It hurts me when you do XYZ or say XYZ. I feel frightened/abandoned/taken for granted/etc.'). I concentrate on how I feel in best psychological non-blaming talk, no 'you're a bastard! You're so mean and selfish!' type outbreaks. And then I hand him the letter and go out for coffee.

I do warn him the letter is coming. I certainly don't hide it in his briefcase one morning or startle him with it after a hard day's office mayhem. I say, remember the fight/discussion/thing you said last night? I'm writing down my side of it, as it were. Would you read today?

Sometimes H writes me a letter back, and I learn a great deal (this can be painful, and humiliating, but useful. Why, yes, even the Amazing May can be a total cow when she's riled, and needs to CUT THAT OUT). Sometimes he falls on my neck on my return, weepy with apology. It has never been a bad or pointless idea in our entire 19-year relationship.

Also, how often do you talk to JB about your feelings generally? Not the ones engendered by JB being apathetic and taking it out on you, but about all your feelings, including the sad bad horrible ones about loss and bereavement. If you're too brave for his sake, he may simply get the impression you're not bothered. I may be projecting like mad here, but H has a tendency not to talk to me about how HE feels, which gets worse when he's stressed, and it has led to me shouting things like 'you just don't CARE, do you?', simply because I had no idea just how very much he DID care, and the (perceived) lack of caring made me feel abandoned, and like there was no point in our relationship. If this doesn't apply, please ignore. Also please ignore if you think I'm being impertinent.

But yes. As you say, the Discussions can snap JB out of it. So perhaps if he doesn't realise how his attitude is hurting you, it'd help. At any rate, I do feel he needs to be firmly TOLD he hurts you badly when he brings out the Towel of Finality and waves it about, even if he THINKS he's not being serious or that you don't care.

Ohh, poor Twangy. UFFA indeed. And, dare I say it, che PALLE as well.

(Very much wishing the same could apply to Authority. Dear Authority, when you delay and shilly-shally and take months over simply STAMPING a document, we feel hurt and abandoned. And very worried. And angry - we jumped through hoops to get all the paperwork done properly and on time, and we had a lot more to go through to do it than you and your stampy-hand. So CUT IT OUT. yours etc...)

[May]

OH MY GOD what a long comment. I am SO sorry.

[Womb For Improvement]

The letter idea sounds interesting. I once did the same to my Dad when he got together with my (now) stepmother and he couldn't understand why I didn't fling my arms round her neck and call her Mummy.

It worked because I could explain without him interrupting that just because I wasn't about to become her best friend that didn't mean I hated her. (I mean I did, but he didnt need to know that).

It did help that I was in Edinburgh and he was in Gloucester at the time.

But off topic. Yes, men often need to have black and white clarity and time to reflect.

Also remember, the adoption agency saw a strong happy couple - and they see a lot of shit so know their onions. (To mix something up).

[Valery Valentina]

Thanks Twangy and Thanks HFF, a and May.
It all makes sense. And it is so good to see this issue from all sides.
Have to remember 'cannot be unsaid'. On every bad day the towel is taunting me. Sometimes the waiting, the not knowing/doing gets so oppressive that I want to do anything, give anything to make it stop hurting. (bargaining anyone?)

So sorry the JB said that, so sorry the hurt is going back and forth between you. So sorry he keeps rejecting every solution you come up with.
So sorry nobody can tell us how much more of this we have to endure.
Does it help if I say you are doing it right? I could come over for a few days if you like?
hugs and hold on.

[Twangypearl]

Thank you all. Never be worried, good readers, that I will take offence at your offering me helpful advice, especially when done in your kindly, tactful way. It makes sense to share the pool of hard-won knowledge - it's good, especially with practical strategies, like the letter idea. I am truly grateful for it.

Thank you V, for your very kind offer. (Aw! You are so sweet.) But Ma and I plan a visit your way in January - I hope to see you then, if you can. (YAY!)

[Andie]

The JB has made me very very cross and wanting to abandon my ladylike ways and start shouting and swearing (at him).

I could be wrong but there seem to be two issues here based on the paraphrasing of the conversation. Does he want to throw in the towel relationship wise? Or is he talking about the adoption/infertility? I mean BE CLEAR, MAN! (excuse me if I am reading it wrong and just offering useless and unwanted advice). And as one previous commenter said, it is most inappropriate to just wave these sorts of comments around.

I think that everyone here has made some good points already. So I am just going to be cross and say that the JB needs to grow the hell up and start dealing with his feelings. Or he may just lose the best thing that ever happened to him, Our Dear Twangy. And anyone hurting Our Twangy has me to answer to.

[Pale]

Oh, Twangy ... Feh. Feh. Feh.

No assvice. Just support.

Oh wait. Is this assvice? A vacation, maybe? That, I find, rarely confuses the issue. And it often helps.

XXOO

D was here.

[bunny]

That's an awful thing to say, just awful. Even if he did mean it, which it sounds like he doesn't, but the MORE so if he doesn't. (And by the way, just remind him that if parenthood is more important than you, and that's really what he's wanting to throw in the towel for the sake of, good luck to him finding a new, fecund partner at the drop of a hat, and by the way, women who appear perfectly fecund can turn out to be DUDS, LIKE ME! And I doubt his adoption prospects would be brighter without you! So what exactly is his plan anyway?!?!)

Uh...right! *Hitches up sodden woolens* I'm not sure what to wish for, improvement-wise. I'll just wish generically for improvement, and for you not to let this fester. He's got to love you more than anything, because you are YOU, so I hope he gets his head right, pronto!

[Anne]

Ahhh man....Also annoyed with JB, but also think that the earlier commenter might have a point, that he says such things to try to get *you* to show him that you *do* care. (I don't think that you DON'T care, of course, but I wonder if he might). The reason I say this is that I have not been above this tactic in my own relationships when I felt disconnected and/or frustrated with my partner (I've mostly grown out of it. Mostly).

I'm sorry about that discussion you guys had. Yuck. Bleh.

[Twangypearl]

Thanks for your thoughts, Andie, Pale, bunny and Anne. (Bunny. You're no dud.)

It is good to have a "normal" reaction reflected back at me. For now we are in the upswing and all is aok. Isn't marriage a strange mixture of the profane and sublime? And how the two rub along together, and how we switch between our feelings and moods.

All a bit alien to me.

[Adele]

I detest the merest whiff of a vacuum. Makes me break out in a cold sweat.

I think some people (and I've been among them) need to verbalize the unspeakable in some misguided notion that by recognizing it, it ceases to exist. Sort of taking the mystery out of it, bringing it out into the light of day. I wonder if - in some way - this is what the JB is doing. It's a shame about the counseling, though. You have (both) been through a lot and I do think that talking it out frees up the heart a bit. But that's coming from someone who never could convince her husband to wade into those "typically American" (his words) waters.

Frustrating about the two waits. The wheels move so very s l o w l y. But then they have a tendency to suddenly leap into action, and I hope that this happens soon.

(Sorry for the late comment...bad colds struck the Delinquent household).