Why do I feel the need to tell y'all this?

Note: more defending myself re: this post.

I swear sometimes that this blog is turning into my own little counseling session, with you all ("y'all" for those of us who spent a few years or more in the south) as my counselors. But here's some more:

I've noted that Spousehole and I had a regular and vigorous sex life early on. Things declined after the conception and birth of Boy. That's common in most marriages, I think. Children change things drastically.

When Boy was 9 months old, one week after 9/11, Spousehole was laid off. It turned out he was the first of many and the company folded a few months later. Still, it was difficult because that was our only source of income. He found another job a couple months later, but with a hitch. It paid fairly well, but we had to pay 100% of the health insurance cost (about $1200/month). Not only that, but it was a 2 hour drive, EACH WAY, and called for 10-hour days. (He was at a nuclear plant, down near the Zigs). That 14 hours each weekday away from home. We lived like that for a year. But he had very little time at home and we were dealing with an infant whose developmental delays were becoming more apparent every day. Still, we managed to find our way back together once a month or even every couple weeks.

A year after the first layoff, Spousehole was laid off AGAIN (Sept 2002). We were still getting back on our feet financially after the first one and this was a real blow. It was still $1200 a month to continue health insurance and we just couldn't afford it on $600/week in unemployment benefits. So we let the health insurance go. Now, I haven't talked about this much, but I have been an insulin dependent diabetic for as long as I can remember. My health is generally good and I've been darn lucky. By the grace of God and the evil geniuses at Wal-Mart, insulin and needles are pretty affordable for me even without insurance. Test strips, less so, but do-able. But, and you probably saw this coming, I got sick within a month of losing our insurance. Racked up a few thousand in medical bills.

Spousehole got another job by Christmas 2002 (and health insurance kicked in there in March 2003). He was making almost 25% less than before, but we only pay a small portion of the health insurance premium and he only has a 5-minute drive to work.

But we still had those medical bills. Here's where it gets bad. I never told him about the bills. A lot of his ego is wrapped up in being a good provider, etc. It kills him that he does not provide for his family the way his father did for his when he was a kid. I don't give a shit if we are wealthy or not. As long as we have a roof over our heads and food on the table, I'm good. If I were concerned about having a lot of money, I would be working instead of staying home with my kids. I have never, EVER, complained about his abilities as a provider and never would.

Now, he knew I was sick. He knew there were bills. But he never asked how much and I never told him. I handled our money at that time (boy, has that changed!) and he almost always took a "don't ask, don't tell" approach to things. But there was no way we could pay those bills without some help.

His parents gave me the money to pay the bills. That's where I totally f'd up. Spousehole resents his father greatly. His father was an engineer-cum-executive with a major automobile manufacturer. He did very well for himself financially, but was a lousy father to Spousehole (he was better with the other kids, especially the much younger ones). On the rare occasions he was home, he constantly criticized Spousehole. It was severe. He once told him that he should divorce Spousehole's mother just to get away from him. Great guy. Starting to see where Spousehole learned his mad familial skillz?

Another 6 months or so went by and Spousehole found out about me getting money from his parents. He went ballistic. Threw me out of the house. This was accomplished by tricking me into getting into the car on the pretense of a shopping trip, driving to my parents' house, telling me to get the fuck out of the car, and driving away with my son.

He relented and let me come home within a couple days, but he has never trusted me since. He took over paying the bills (he's shitty at it, I always have to remind him to pay stuff). He never leaves more than a few hundred dollars accessible to me. Once more than that accumulates in our savings, he moves it to his personal savings account to which I do not have access. I don't mean it to sound like we have money problems, because we don't. Our only debts are our mortgage and a note on one car. No credit cards, nothing else. The other car, the motorcycle, the @!%^*&#$ catamaran - everything else was paid for in cash or is paid off.

Along with controlling me by not letting me have access to money, he started frequently withholding sex. It dwindled to maybe 3-4 times a year and he made me practically beg. Control is the name of the game around here. Then, in spring of 2004, after a 9-month drought, the Girl was conceived (the last time he ever initiated anything). This was a huge surprise, but he took it pretty well. However, it was over 18 months before we had sex again. He didn't want to have sex while I was pregnant (wasn't a problem the previous pregnancy) and then he said he was scared of another accidental pregnancy.

When Girl was about 6 months old, Spousehole got a vasectomy. We were getting along pretty well. Trust issues had mostly disappeared. He said he wanted to resume a more active sex life. I was thrilled. But it's been 2 years and that hasn't happened. We've had 8 encounters in the last 2 years, some not entirely successful. He has had some performance issues since the vasectomy and I think that just killed things for him. He has a very fragile ego. Suddenly, it's all my fault. Once again, he brings up trust. Says why would he want to be with me when he can't trust me. And besides, I'm ugly and fat (I'm not thin, but I weigh less than when we got married; and if I'm ugly now I must have been ugly then; it's only been 8 years). Then it became about the house. It's too messy, how can he feel like having sex when dirty dishes sat in the sink overnight a couple days ago and the kids' toys are on the living room floor?

We spent six months in counseling. He admits, however, that he didn't take it seriously until the very end. He couldn't get past thinking that if I would fix all the things wrong with me, everything would be fine. He has trouble accepting that we are equal partners in making it work or not.

And sex isn't our only problem. He has a lot of trouble telling me that he loves me (he said it this morning though - out of the blue!). He constantly criticizes. He says he can't say nice things to me because then I might believe them. (Yes, he actually said that!) He says it's not his job to make me feel better about myself by saying nice things. So, I can go all out to look good for a night out or something and he says NOTHING. If I say "Do I look alright?" he says "Stop fishing for compliments." But then I'll overhear someone say to him "Wow, dude, your wife looks fantastic tonight" and he'll say proudly "Yes, she does, doesn't she?" But he can't say it to me.

So that's how I ended up where I am today. Proving that his lack of trust has merit.